Chapter One: The Devil Returns
The rain hit the pavement like bullets—sharp, relentless, and cold. Julie Lanes didn't flinch as she stepped out of the café and into the storm, her umbrella unopened and forgotten at her side. The water soaked through her coat within seconds, but she didn't care. After all, nothing could chill her now. Not after what she'd been through.
Not after him.
She walked with practiced ease, heels clacking against the concrete, ignoring the stares of those huddling under awnings. Her name had changed, her hair was darker, her eyes colder—but inside, a storm still lived where love once bloomed.
Julie had buried Lorenzo Moretti two years ago. Not literally—though she had imagined it, more than once—but emotionally. She had taken every scrap of her affection for him, every broken piece of her past, and set it on fire.
So why was his black Maserati now parked across the street from her apartment?
She stopped cold, heartbeat slamming against her ribs. It was unmistakable. Matte black. Custom Italian plates. And behind the tinted glass—
No. It couldn't be him.
She turned away and started walking, faster now. Her soaked heels slipped, but she didn't stop. Not until a deep, familiar voice echoed behind her, low and smooth like dark velvet soaked in sin.
"Julie."
She froze. Rain streamed down her face, indistinguishable from tears she refused to let fall.
She hadn't heard that voice in two years.
And she had sworn she never would again.
---
Two years earlier
She'd waited three hours in the golden hallway of the Moretti estate. Her hands clutched the thin satin gift box she'd brought—a silver cufflink set with his initials. It was his birthday, after all. The least she could do was surprise him.
She had dressed carefully, modestly, though her hands had trembled as she applied her lipstick. Theirs was a secret, forbidden romance—but it had been real, hadn't it?
He had whispered promises to her in the dark, touched her as if she was the only softness in his hard world. He'd told her he'd protect her from everything, even his world of violence.
But as the grand oak doors opened, and Lorenzo stepped out into the hallway, everything she believed shattered.
He wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a tall blonde woman in a blood-red dress, clinging to his arm like she belonged there. And he didn't pull away.
Julie stepped forward. "Lorenzo, I—"
He looked at her. Cold. Distant. Not the man who had held her trembling body in his bed just nights ago. Not the man who'd kissed her like she was air and he was drowning.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Her voice cracked. "I came to wish you a happy birthday."
He laughed—short, cruel. "You shouldn't have. We were nothing, Julie. A distraction. A mistake."
The words sliced into her like knives. "You… You said you—"
"I said a lot of things. I lied." He reached for the blonde's waist, pulling her closer. "You were just the daughter of a low-level enemy. I never planned to keep you."
She stood frozen, the gift box slipping from her fingers and landing with a soft thud on the polished marble floor.
He stepped over it without a glance.
---
Present Day
"Julie," he said again.
She turned slowly, heart a fist in her chest. The same dark hair. The same tailored black coat. The same devastating, ruthless face.
Lorenzo Moretti hadn't aged a day. If anything, he looked more dangerous now—more powerful. His jaw was sharper, his eyes harder. But there was something else in them too. Something she didn't expect.
Regret.
She lifted her chin. "You have no right to say my name."
"You're still angry," he said quietly.
Angry? The laugh that escaped her lips was hollow. "You humiliated me. Used me. You don't get to stand here now and pretend that meant nothing."
His jaw tightened. "It didn't mean nothing."
"You said I was a mistake."
"I lied." He stepped closer, the rain soaking through his black coat, turning it darker. "I lied to protect you."
She flinched, blinking against the rain. "You don't get to rewrite history just because you feel guilty now."
"I don't feel guilty." His voice deepened. "I feel—haunted."
She stared at him, jaw clenched, breath trembling. "I don't care."
"You should," he said softly. "Because you're in danger."
Her world tilted. "Excuse me?"
"You've been watched. Followed. My enemies know who you are."
Julie took a step back. "You expect me to believe this isn't some trick? That this isn't just another game?"
Lorenzo's expression turned deadly serious. "They're not after me this time, Julie. They're after you. And I won't let anyone hurt you."
She swallowed. "You already did."
Lightning split the sky, and for a moment, they stood in silence, two ghosts from a story that had ended too painfully to bury.
Then he said the words that shook her to her core.
"Come with me. I'll explain everything. But not here. You're not safe."
She wanted to scream, to tell him to go to hell. But the truth was, despite everything—despite the scars—her legs refused to move.
And her heart, traitorous thing, was already pounding out a rhythm she hadn't heard in years.
The rhythm of a love she had never truly killed.
---Chapter One (continued): The Devil Returns
Julie's fingers trembled as she clenched them into fists. She hated this. Hated how her body still reacted to him—how her pulse danced at the sound of his voice, how his presence still set her on fire.
She had sworn she was done with him. Done with the lies. The danger. The heartbreak.
But she wasn't stupid. If Lorenzo Moretti came looking for her after two years of silence, it wasn't for romance. It was because something terrible was coming.
She squared her shoulders. "If I'm in danger, I'll call the police."
His eyes darkened. "The police can't protect you from the men coming for you."
"Then why are they coming for me, Lorenzo?" she asked sharply. "Because of you? Because I was stupid enough to love a monster?"
He winced at her words, but didn't deny them.
"You were never stupid," he said. "You were the only real thing I ever had."
Julie laughed bitterly. "Spare me the poetry. You made your choice."
"I did," he said, voice low. "And it was the worst mistake of my life."
Before she could answer, a loud bang echoed nearby—like a firecracker. Julie flinched, heart leaping.
Lorenzo was instantly alert, stepping in front of her. "We have to go. Now."
"What was that?" she whispered.
He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a phone, muttered something in Italian, and motioned toward his car. "There's no time. You're coming with me."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Julie snapped.
He looked her dead in the eye. "If you don't get in that car right now, Julie, you might not live to regret it."
Her heart stalled.
It was the tone that convinced her—not angry, not pleading, but raw. Real.
Something in her gut twisted.
She glanced around. The streets were nearly empty. Her instincts screamed at her to run—but not from him. From something else. Something she couldn't yet see.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "If I go with you… is this forever, or just another lie?"
His eyes met hers. "Forever, if you let it be."
---
The ride was silent at first.
Julie sat in the passenger seat, soaked and stiff, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The scent of leather and expensive cologne filled the air—his scent. It brought back memories she didn't want.
Memories of heated kisses in shadowed corridors. Of whispered promises in the dark. Of a man who touched her like she was sacred… then crushed her like she was nothing.
She stared out the window. "Where are we going?"
"My private residence. No one knows about it but me and two men I trust."
"Why would someone be after me now? I've stayed out of everything."
His jaw tightened as he drove. "Because my enemies couldn't touch me. So now they're trying to hurt me through the one person they know I've never stopped caring about."
Julie turned slowly toward him. "You don't get to say that. You gave me up like I was trash."
"I gave you up," he said, voice hoarse, "because they threatened to kill you if I didn't."
Her breath caught. "What?"
He nodded once. "Two years ago, the Lucetti family intercepted our messages. They found out about us. I was warned—break it off or watch you die. I made a choice."
Her lips parted, disbelief washing over her. "So… everything you said… you didn't mean it?"
"I hated every word I had to say that night," he whispered. "But I needed you alive. I needed you to walk away."
Julie stared at him. For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
"And now?"
"They're back. But this time I'm not letting them near you. I've already lost you once."
She looked away, struggling to process it all. The betrayal. The lies. The sudden revelation that what broke her hadn't been cruelty, but protection.
"I don't know if I can trust you," she whispered.
"I know," he said quietly. "But I'm going to prove you can."
---
When they reached the estate, Julie stepped out of the car and stared.
The house wasn't the glittering mansion she remembered—it was smaller, more private, hidden behind iron gates and surrounded by thick trees. Silent. Guarded.
"Home sweet hideout?" she muttered.
Lorenzo didn't smile. "It's safe. That's all that matters."
Inside, the warmth was immediate. A fire crackled in the hearth. The place was sleek, masculine—deep woods, dark leather, and glass.
Lorenzo handed her a towel and disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he carried one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants.
"These will be big, but they're dry."
Julie took them without a word and walked into the guest room to change. As she peeled off her soaked clothes, her hands trembled. Not from the cold—but from everything unraveling inside her.
He hadn't lied to hurt her.
He had lied to save her.
And now, somehow, he was back—ripping open wounds that had never truly healed.
She looked in the mirror, wearing his clothes, smelling his scent, and hated how part of her still ached for him.
Still wanted him.
Still loved him.
---
When she came out, he was seated by the fire, a glass of scotch in hand. He looked up and stilled when he saw her.
She tried not to notice how his gaze lingered. How it burned.
"I'm going to stay one night," she said, voice firm. "Just until I figure out if you're telling the truth."
He nodded. "One night."
But deep in his eyes, she saw it.
The promise that one night wouldn't be enough.
---