She arrived at the Mafia crowning event, her heart pounding like a drum. She'd heard so many stories from Ricky about this place, but her dad had never let her get even one glimpse. Girls weren't allowed, plain and simple.
"Wow," she muttered, stepping closer to the massive entrance. The building was even more impressive than she'd imagined—grand chandeliers, velvet curtains, and dark wood that screamed power and tradition. She couldn't help but admire it, even as she tried to act natural in her new body.
She adjusted her shoulders and tried to blend in, but just then—bam—her chest crashed straight into a huge bodyguard.
"Your invite card?" the guard demanded, blocking her way.
Keila's brain scrambled. Invite card? She froze for a second, then blurted out, "Uh—I'm... Keila—no, wait." She slapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean—Kyan. Kyan Massimo."
The guard stared at her for what felt like forever, his eyes sharp and unreadable. Then, with a slow nod, he stepped aside.
"Go on. Just don't cause trouble."
Keila swallowed and nodded, slipping past him into the dark, dangerous world she'd dreamed of for so long.
Keila stood at the edge of the grand hall, watching the ceremony unfold.
The Mafia Crowning was a serious tradition, held every year across Italy. It wasn't just about power—it was about respect, family, and legacy.
One by one, the strongest heirs were called forward. Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for—Nico Luciano, the leader of the strongest mafia family, stepped up. Dangerous, tattooed, and dangerously handsome, Nico wore power like a second skin.
The crown was placed on his head, and the room erupted in a mix of cheers and hushed whispers. After the crowning, all the heirs took a solemn oath to protect their families and honor the tradition.
Keila's heart pounded as she watched it all—this was a world she had never truly seen before, and yet, here she was.
As the ceremony ended, Keila slipped away, clutching the mysterious stone her grandma once told her about—the one said to work the impossible.
She found a quiet room, desperate to change back to her real self and escape before anyone noticed.
But just as she was about to use the stone, the door burst open.
A tall, stern bodyguard stormed in. His eyes locked on her instantly.
"You're the thief. No invite, no right to be here. You came to steal from the new king," he said coldly.
Before Keila could explain, strong hands grabbed her, pulling her out of the room.
They dragged her straight to Nico—Nico Luciano, the man who never forgave.
Keila was roughly yanked to her knees at Nico's feet. Their eyes met—her wide, scared ones against his cold, icy stare.
The bodyguard leaned in, voice low but urgent. "Sir, we found him in your lounge. We suspect he took the missing watch."
Keila's mind spun. What was going on? Missing watch? She didn't understand.
One thing was clear—her stone had slipped off somewhere during the struggle, and now she had no way to change back. Panic started to creep in.
Nico's hand moved slowly to his side. In a flash, he pulled out a gun and pressed it against Keila's forehead. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Keila didn't speak. She couldn't. Her mouth was dry, her body frozen, but her eyes locked onto his with quiet panic.
And something in that stopped him.
He studied her. Not like a man looking at prey—like a man trying to understand a riddle.
The gun lowered.
"You're terrified," he said, his voice like gravel. Then, a pause. A glint of something darker. "And somehow, that makes you even prettier."
He leaned in, barely an inch away.
"You just signed your life away, ragazzo. You're mine now."
"Take him away," Nico said coldly, his voice low and dangerous.
Before Keila could process anything, the bodyguard grabbed her by the arm again and dragged her off. Her heart pounded wildly.
This is bad… this is really bad. I'm officially stuck in this body. And now I'm being taken away like a criminal. Only God knows where we're going. That tall, hot, sculpted, tattooed bastard…
The drive felt endless. She tried to ask questions, but no one responded. Finally, they arrived at a private dock. A massive cruise ship was waiting.
The salty air hit her face as she was yanked onboard. No one said a word to her.
The same bodyguard from earlier leaned close, his tone sharp.
"You're officially the Boss's new servant now. You'll work until that watch is paid off."
Keila's mouth fell open. "What? I didn't even—"
But he had already turned and stormed off, leaving her stunned and alone on the ship.
New servant? Of who? Nico? No. This can't be happening. This isn't what I wanted…
The night was cold and quiet, with only the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the ship. Keila—now stuck as Kyan—sat in the corner of the room, staring blankly at the floor.
There's no going back now. I should've listened to Dad.....
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
"Hey, ragazzo!" a deep voice called out.
Kyan flinched. It was the bodyguard again.
The man walked in, tossing a pile of clothes onto the small bed. His eyes were sharp, and his voice had no warmth. "You're a softie. Boss hates softies. You're lucky he let you live. Anyone who crosses Nico usually ends up in a coffin."
Kyan swallowed hard.
The guard crossed his arms. "Listen close. You break one rule, you die. Simple."
He started listing them, ticking off each one with his fingers.
"One — No talking back to the boss.
Two — Never ask questions.
Three — No leaving your post without permission.
Four — No stealing, touching, or looking at things that don't belong to you.
Five — Don't speak unless spoken to. Especially around the boss."
Then he pointed at the clothes on the bed. "Put that on. You work for him now."
Kyan stared at the black uniform. It looked rough, like it had been worn by a hundred other servants before him. His fingers curled around the fabric, but he didn't move.
"Too shy to change?" the guard mocked, shaking his head. "You better get over that quick. This is the Mafia, not a fashion show."
Then he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Kyan sat there frozen, heart racing.