Novels by Jersey

One week after the dinnerAlessio hadn’t seen Rafael in days.Not really. Not in any way that mattered.They’d shared space, a glance across a lobby, a car ride with others, a distant nod during a meeting. But there had been no words. No lingering looks. No accidental touches. Just ice where fire used to be.And Alessio was pretending that was fine.Pretending he hadn’t noticed the shift in the way people looked at Rafael now, more careful. More respectful. Or maybe more afraid.He’d heard whispers. That Rafael had been sent to handle something in Siracusa, and that he’d done it clean. Quiet. No witnesses.No survivors either.Alessio didn’t want to believe it.He didn’t want to think about the man he used to fall asleep beside now being spoken of like a weapon.Still, when the Eduardo deal came up , a meeting scheduled without much detail, Alessio hadn’t thought twice about going. It was routine. His father’s idea. A quick sit down with Don Eduardo, about port access in Trapani.Noth

Three days after the weddingAlessio stood outside the Montayo estate with Isabella on his arm, listening to her talk about wine pairings as if the knot in his stomach were something he could ignore.It wasn’t.The doors opened before she even knocked, as if someone had been watching from behind the curtain and the household staff greeted them like it was routine. Like this was already his life.He stepped inside, and it felt like walking into a past he didn’t belong to.Javier Montayo stood at the end of the hall, composed in a dark suit, his expression carved in stone.“Papà,” Isabella said, cheeks flushed with warmth, the perfect daughter. She kissed him on both cheeks, lingered a moment.Alessio extended a hand. “Don Javier .”A firm shake. “Welcome to the family.”He said it like a formality. Like a chess move.Dinner was already being plated.The dining room smelled of roasted lamb, citrus, something herbal Alessio couldn’t place. The table stretched long and gleaming under soft

The car was too quiet.Rafael gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white where skin met bone, the leather cold under his fingers despite the warmth still clinging to his suit. The engine hummed, tires rolling against asphalt, smooth and soundless like a secret.He didn’t turn on the radio.Noise would feel like cheating.Outside, the night hung low over Naples, golden streetlamps blurred against the windshield, storefronts closing, couples walking hand in hand, unaware of the situation that had just split his world open. A wedding. A celebration. A future he should have ruined but didn’t.He took the long way home. Drove without purpose, letting the streets curve him away from the villa. He passed the sea. Parked for a while beneath a bridge. Smoked a cigarette without thinking. When he lit the second one, he noticed his hands were shaking.He had said nothing all day.Clapped when expected.Smiled for photographs.Held his sister’s hand and told her she looked beautiful and she h

Alessio stood in the hallway long after the reception ended.Everyone else had gone. The staff. The musicians. The cousins with their slurred congratulations. The older men with cigars and business nods. The mothers. His father.And Rafael.That last one he felt like a missing limb.Alessio leaned against the cool wall outside the bedroom door. His collar was open. His jacket somewhere he didn’t care to remember. His hand still smelled faintly of lilies, Isabella’s bouquet, handed to her after they kissed in front of God and family and every carefully arranged camera.He couldn’t walk in.He could hear her moving on the other side of the door. The soft rustle of fabric. A drawer closing. The creak of the bed.She was waiting for him.His wife.He closed his eyes.That word didn’t fit in his mouth. Wife. It felt like he’d stolen it. Like he was trying on someone else’s life. Nothing about it was his.Not the gold ring on his hand.Not the vows still echoing in his ears.Not the silence

The wedding morning arrived like something out of a dream, too soft, too bright, too perfect.The De Luca estate was dressed in white and gold. Rows of orchids lined the garden archway. Musicians tuned their strings behind velvet drapes. Staff moved gracefully , every tray, flower, and fold of linen placed with military precision. Doves, actual doves, cooed softly from their gilded cages, waiting to be released at the end of the ceremony.It was everything Isabella had asked for, understated by Montayo standards, extravagant by anyone else’s.Rafael stood in the second floor guest room overlooking the gardens, watching the final touches go into place. His reflection stared back at him from the window, sharp black suit, white collar, the Montayo crest pinned to his lapel.He looked perfect.He felt like he was dying.A quiet knock pulled him from his thoughts. He turned, expecting a servant, maybe Isabella. But it was Nico, stepping in with his tie still undone and a subtle crease in h

The hallway was colder than Nico remembered.He walked fast, past the archways and portraits, past the faint murmur of house staff in the distance, past the echoes of a conversation that had no place in this house. In his chest, something twisted hard, like a wire pulled too tight.Rafael. Alessio.He couldn’t unsee it.Not the way Alessio had looked at him. Not the way Rafael had touched him, as if he was something sacred. There had been no doubt in that room. No misinterpretation. No way to rationalize what he had seen into something innocent.Nico reached the end of the corridor and leaned against the wall, chest heaving slightly as if he’d run a mile. A wave of nausea crept up the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead.He wasn’t supposed to know this.He was the younger brother, the one kept in the shadows when things got ugly. Alessio protected him, always had. From business, from violence, from blood. Even after their fath