CHAPTER 1: THE NIGHT I MET THE DEVIL

Lisa's POV

I was never supposed to be here.

The music was loud. The bass hit my chest like a heartbeat, the air filled with the scent of alcohol and smoke. My friends laughed beside me, cheering and swaying to the rhythm. I smiled too, even though my heart beat a little faster. I'd never been to a bar before. Never worn something this short or this tight. But tonight was different.

I was tired of rules. Tired of being the "perfect daughter."

So I lied.

Told my parents I was sleeping at my friend Emily's house. I wore a long jacket out the door—but underneath it, a red crop top, black skirt, heels that made me feel both sexy and stupid.

I should've stayed home.

I sat down at the bar with my friends, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. I laughed when they laughed. Took a sip of something cold and strong that burned my throat. My first drink. My first sin. My smile didn't fade though—I was good at hiding things. Always had been.

"I need to pee," I whispered to Emily. She nodded, too busy flirting with some guy to care. I stood up, heels wobbling a bit. The hallway was dark, lights flickering slightly. I turned left… then right… then left again.

Where was the bathroom?

I pushed open a door, thinking maybe it was in here. But instead of a bathroom—

Silence.

A thick, heavy silence, like I'd walked into a lion's den.

There were six men inside. All dressed in black. Cigarette smoke curled through the air. Whiskey bottles on the table. Guns on their belts. But it wasn't the danger that froze me.

It was him.

The one sitting in the middle. A glass in his hand. Cold eyes that stared straight into my soul.

Noha.

His name, I wouldn't know until later. But that night, all I saw was a man who looked like death. Beautiful and deadly.

Tall, sharp jawline, black hair falling into his face. He didn't smile. His expression was blank—but his eyes widened slightly. A flicker of shock.

Like he'd seen a ghost.

"You're in the wrong room, sweetheart," one of the men said, rising to his feet.

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered, backing away.

But Noha stood.

The others went silent. One word from him, and I felt it—he was the boss. The king. The one they all feared.

"Wait," he said.

His voice was deep, rough like gravel. He walked toward me slowly, like I was some kind of mystery.

His eyes didn't leave my face.

"You…" he whispered, more to himself than to me. "She looks just like her."

The men exchanged glances. I had no idea what he meant.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, I swear. I got lost," I said quickly, scared but trying to hide it.

He just stared.

And then he did something no one had seen him do in years.

He smiled.

It was small. Broken. Like his heart was trying to remember how to feel.

"Leave," he told the others.

"But boss—"

"I said leave!"

They didn't argue. They filed out quietly, leaving me alone with the devil.

Noha.

He poured another drink and sat back down, motioning for me to sit across from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

I believed him. I don't know why.

I sat down.

He asked for my name. I told him.

He didn't tell me his.

That night, we talked. About nothing and everything. He was cold, distant, but curious. Kept looking at me like I was someone else. He didn't mention the mafia. I didn't know what he was. To me, he was just a broken man in a bar who had a story buried deep inside.

And for some reason… I wanted to know it.

That night, I didn't realize the storm I was walking into. I didn't know he was a mafia boss. I didn't know he had lost the only girl he'd ever loved. I didn't know he had a heart buried under all that pain.

All I knew was this:

Noha didn't smile.

But for me, that night…

He did.