Claire's stomach twists into knots as she looks up at him. His presence is like a storm cloud, dark and intimidating. She tries to stand, but her legs wobble and she sits back down. "How do you know my name?"

Vincent chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. "We've been watching you, my dear. Your talent is...undeniable." He slides into the seat next to Zara, his movements so fluid it's like he's part of the shadows. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, I need to ensure that you're...reliable."

Leo shifts his weight, his gaze darting between Claire and Vincent. "Boss, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else."

Vincent waves a hand dismissively. "Relax, Leo. I'm sure our little singer here can keep a secret." He turns back to Claire, his smile turning predatory. "Now, about that favor."

Her thoughts race. What kind of favor could the mafia want from her? But she knows she's in no position to refuse. "Okay," she says, her voice shaking slightly. "What do you need?"

Zara's eyes light up, and she reaches across the table to take Claire's hand. "We need you to perform at a very private party. Just one night. After that, we'll make sure your little...misstep is forgotten."

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Claire nods slowly, her mind racing. "Alright, I'll do it."

Vincent's smile widens, revealing a gold tooth. "Excellent. But remember, Miss Claire, loyalty is a two-way street. Cross me, and your troubles will only just begin."

The bar seems to shrink around her, the air thick with the scent of danger. She nods again, trying to keep her voice steady. "I understand."

The next few days pass in a blur of rehearsals and nerves. Zara and Leo are ever-present, making sure she knows the stakes. The night of the event arrives, and she's dressed to the nines, her heart pounding in her chest. They drive her to a mansion nestled in the hills, surrounded by a wall of silence and secrecy. The gates open, and she's led into a grand ballroom where the mafia's elite are gathered.

The stage is set, the lights dim, and the music starts. Claire takes a deep breath and steps into the spotlight. The room goes silent as she opens her mouth and lets her voice soar. The notes fill the room, beautiful and haunting, and she feels a strange sense of power. For the first time in weeks, she's not just a scared girl running from her past; she's a siren, captivating the very people who could destroy her.

As the song reaches its crescendo, she sees a figure in the back, watching her closely. It's Vincent. His eyes are on her, and she can almost feel his approval. It sends a shiver down her spine.

Vincent's perspective:

Vincent stood in the shadows of the grand ballroom, his eyes never leaving the figure on stage. The rain-drenched girl from the bar had transformed into a radiant star before his eyes. Her voice, filled with pain and longing, was the perfect backdrop for the deals being made in the dimly lit corners of the room. The sound of clinking glasses and hushed whispers faded into the background as he listened to her sing.

He had first heard Claire's music in a small café years ago, when he was still a nobody, climbing the ranks. Her voice had stopped him in his tracks, and he had found himself going back to that café every night just to hear her. He had watched her from afar, her talent blossoming like a flower in the sun. He had always loved her, even when he knew he couldn't have her. Not then, not in the way he wanted

.

But now, with the power of the mafia behind him, he could give her everything she ever dreamed of. He had been watching her career, waiting for the perfect moment to bring her into his world. The scandal had been a stroke of luck. A chance to save her, and in doing so, make her his. He knew the price she would pay for a second chance, and he was willing to pay it.

The song ended, and the room erupted into applause. Claire's eyes searched the crowd, and for a moment, they met his. In that brief instant, he saw the fear, the hope, and the desperation in her gaze. He felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned by the thrill of knowing she was his now. The deal was sealed with her performance, and he knew she would do anything to keep singing.

As the night went on, the party grew wilder. The air was thick with the scent of money and power. Deals were struck, alliances formed, and enemies made. Yet, all Vincent could think about was the woman on stage. He had her in his grasp, and he wasn't going to let her go.

He made his way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her. As he approached, she stepped down from the stage, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the spotlight. He offered her a glass of champagne, and she took it with trembling hands. "You were amazing," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Her eyes searched his, looking for some sign of the man he had been before the mafia life claimed him. But all she saw was the cold, calculating leader he had become. "Thank you," she murmured.

Vincent knew that she was his now. The girl who had captured his heart all those years ago was now entangled in his web. But as he watched her sip the champagne, a part of him wondered if he had made a mistake. If bringing her into this world would only cause her more pain. Yet, the allure of her voice was too strong to resist.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Welcome to the family," he whispered. And with those words, she was officially part of the mafia's world. A world where love and danger danced together in a deadly waltz, and where every note she sang could be her last.