Married to the Enemy, Claimed by the King

📖 **CHAPTER TWO — "The Gala Glance"**

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### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:

> *"Benvenuti a Roma, miei cuori peccaminosi (welcome to Rome, my sinful hearts)… tonight is silk, secrets, and a stare that starts a war. This isn't the kind of meeting where hearts flutter. This is the kind that sets empires on fire. And baby, the match just struck."*

> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile*

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### 🔄 **Recap from Chapter 1 — "Welcome to Rome, Princess":**

Aira Singh landed in Rome to escape her blood-drenched legacy.

A private university dorm. Quiet days. And a black rose that whispered danger.

She didn't know yet that Yuvraj Malhotra — Italy's mafia king — had already seen her.

He watched her arrival.

He planned their first meeting.

At the university gala, their eyes met for the first time.

And then her phone buzzed with a message that would change everything:

> "Don't run from me, amore.

> I've waited too long."

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**AIRA**

The air inside the gala was velvet.

Everything dripped in luxury—champagne towers, chandeliers that looked like they'd been stolen from Versailles, and men in tuxedos pretending they weren't carrying loaded pistols beneath their suits. It was Italy, after all. Old money came with old rules.

I didn't belong here. Not really.

And yet, I stood near the marble bar like I owned the room, my red dress painted onto me, clinging to curves I didn't apologize for.

I sipped wine with my free hand, the other resting lightly on my hip. I wasn't scared. Not of this place. Not of the shadows I knew watched me.

I was the daughter of Devraj Singh.

I *was* the shadow.

My eyes scanned the crowd casually, trying to look disinterested while mentally calculating every escape route. A habit I never outgrew.

That's when I felt it.

A slow burn.

A shift.

Not in the room.

**In me.**

I turned my head, and there he was.

At the top of the staircase.

Leaning against the railing like he'd built the entire damn place.

Tall. Black suit tailored like sin. Hazel eyes that made fire look like a joke. And that jawline—

God help me.

He wasn't just looking at me.

He was *studying* me.

Like I was the ending to a story he'd already decided to write.

My heart hiccupped. Then glared at me for it.

No. Absolutely not.

I didn't care how good his bone structure looked in candlelight.

I didn't come to Italy to fall for mafia royalty.

I came to escape it.

So I turned my back.

And smiled like nothing happened.

I'd show him I didn't break under gazes like that.

Even if, deep inside, something in me already had.

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**YUVRAJ**

There she was.

The girl who'd haunted my phone screens, who I'd watched move through surveillance footage like poetry laced in bullets.

And now—

Now she was real.

And more dangerous than I ever imagined.

Her red dress was art. Her smirk was rebellion. Her eyes were wildfire.

And her attitude?

Made me want to ruin the world.

Everyone else blurred. My mind, usually a machine of strategy and silence, went chaotic.

Aira Singh.

Daughter of the family I should hate.

**The only woman I wanted to claim.**

I didn't move. I wanted her to feel me first.

She turned. Our eyes locked.

And for a second—just a second—she blinked like she felt the war I did.

Then she turned away.

Bold.

Beautiful.

*Brava, piccola regina.* (Well played, little queen.)

But what she didn't know yet was…

No one ignores me.

And walks away untouched.

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**AIRA**

I wasn't sure if it was courage or stupidity that made me linger by the bar another ten minutes, pretending I didn't feel his eyes drilling holes into my spine.

But I wasn't giving in.

I finished my drink and started toward the exit, heels clicking like gunshots on marble.

Almost free.

Almost gone.

Then—

**A hand gripped my wrist.**

Firm. Commanding. Gentle in a way that still screamed danger.

I turned, heart slamming into my ribs.

It was him.

Closer now. More terrifying up close.

And more beautiful.

Up close, he smelled like dark leather and something expensive I couldn't name.

His voice dropped so low it curled down my spine.

> "Amore… you left without saying hello."

I swallowed. "You shouldn't touch me."

He smirked. "Then don't make me chase you."

My jaw clenched. "Let go."

He didn't.

Instead, he leaned in, lips grazing the edge of my ear.

> "Mi sei mancata da prima ancora che ti conoscessi."

> *(I missed you before I even met you.)*

I didn't breathe.

Didn't blink.

And when he finally let go…

It wasn't mercy.

It was a promise.

One I didn't want to understand.

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**YUVRAJ**

She didn't slap me.

She didn't scream.

Which meant I'd already gotten inside her head.

Good.

Because I wasn't stopping now.

I watched her walk away—hips swaying like sin, pride in every step—and I whispered under my breath:

> "Aspettami, amore mio." *(Wait for me, my love.)*

Because the next time we spoke?

It wouldn't be by accident.

It would be the beginning of **everything.**

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**Aira stepped into her car, heart still racing.

As it pulled away, her phone buzzed again.

Same unknown number. One message.**

> "You shouldn't have looked at me like that.

> Now I can't unsee you."

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### 💌 Author Note — From Aish L'Inarrestabile:

> *"That's not love, babe. That's war wearing a tuxedo. If you're still breathing after that whisper-in-the-ear moment, you're stronger than me. Chapter Three's gonna hurt... beautifully."*

> — *Aish L'Inarrestabile* 🫶🏻🔥

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**Chapter 3: "The Devil in the Lecture Hall"?**

Comment down chapter 3