Novels by Luisa

ELENA’S POV “There will be consequences for your disobedience.” Enzo’s voice sliced through the air, low and final, like a judge passing sentence. He stood over the bodies sprawled across the asphalt with his gun still smoking in his hand, blood pooling dark, and thick under the harsh afternoon sun. His eyes locked on mine—black, endless, furious in a way I’d never seen directed at me before. My knees buckled but I caught myself against the van as my palms scraped the rough metal. The punch to my face still throbbed, my split lip still tasted like copper, but the pain felt distant compared to the terror clawing up in my throat. Those men had stormed into pediatrics as they grabbed my arm mid-sentence while I charted a little boy’s fever, and dragged me through the corridor full of people. I’d thought at first they were Enzo’s men coming to haul me home like a misbehaving child but when the first fist landed on me I realized they weren’t his. His men would never touch me like that.

ENZO’S POV I sat at the head of the polished mahogany table in the private room at La Perla, the kind of place where deals worth hundreds of millions got sealed over plates of osso buco and bottles of Barolo that cost more than most men’s cars. The air hung thick with cigar smoke and the low rumble of voices—five capos from the old families, two Albanian suppliers, and my own lieutenants flanking me like bookends. We were carving up the new port routes of Naples, rerouting shipments after the last raid cost us two containers and three good men. I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled, letting Marco handle the numbers. My mind wasn’t on the percentages of the bribes to the harbor master. It was thirty-three floors up, in a penthouse where a stubborn woman with fire in her veins was probably waking up and plotting exactly how to defy me. I’d left before dawn, slipped out while she still slept tangled in sheets that smelled like us. Cowardly? Maybe. But if I’d stayed, if I’d seen

ELENA’S POV“No?” The single syllable cracked out of me like a gunshot. Enzo didn’t flinch, but something dark and lethal flickered across his face. He stood there in the middle of the bedroom looking like a warlord who’d just been told the battle was cancelled. “No,” he repeated, slower, colder. “You’re not going back to work. Not today, not next week, not until I say so.” I shot off the bed so fast the mattress bounced. The shirt I wore twisted around my hips and I didn’t bother fixing it. “Say that again.” His eyes narrowed. “You heard me.” “Yeah, I did.” I took one step toward him, then another, until the heat rolling off his chest licked at my skin. “And I’m telling you right now, Enzo DeLuca, you don’t get to decide what I do with my life. You bought my body, not my future.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Don’t.” “Don’t what? Speak the truth?” My voice climbed even though I hated how it shook. “You parade me around, dress me up, fuck me whenever you feel like it, and now y

ENZO’S POV The elevator doors slid open and the air in the penthouse turned to glass, sharp, brittle, ready to cut. Giovanni was sprawled across my couch like a king on a stolen throne. His ankles were crossed as he had my twenty-five-year-old Pappy Van Winkle in his hand, four of his soldiers fanned out behind him in cheap suits that screamed Naples dockyard. My own men lined the walls, their palms already resting on holsters, their eyes flat and murderous. Elena’s fingers tightened around mine until I felt her pulse hammering against my skin. Giovanni unfolded himself slowly, that crocodile smile stretching across his face. “Fratello mio!” He opened his arms like we were about to embrace at Christmas mass. “Finally, the groom-to-be arrives.” I let go of Elena’s hand and walked forward. The marble was cold under my shoes, every step echoed like a countdown. My men moved with me; Giovanni’s men mirrored them. Twelves safeties clicked off in perfect, hateful harmony. I stopped t

ENZO’S POV I watched Elena stand there with the pistol in her hands and her feet planted wide as I had shown her and her eyes focused on the target downrange. She squeezed the trigger as the shot cracked out and missed wide left as it kicked up dirt. Her shoulders slumped and she lowered the gun with a sigh."Don't beat yourself up," I said, stepping closer. "There is always a first time for everyone. You did good just pulling the trigger without flinching."She looked up at me with those eyes that always cut straight to my gut and shook her head. "I wanted to hit it. I feel stupid missing it like that."I took the gun from her and reloaded it with quick snaps. "Nobody hits a perfect shot at their first try. Watch me again."I turned to the target and raised the pistol as I fired three rounds in smooth succession as each one punched dead center. The paper shredded with the impacts. I lowered the gun and handed it back to her. "Your turn. Spread your feet a bit wider, lock your elbow

ELENA’S POV I woke up to warmth for the first time in days and the first thing I felt was Enzo’s arm heavy across my waist and his breath steady against the back of my neck. I stayed still and listened to his heart thump slow and sure against my spine and told myself this was real. I was home and I was alive. I didn’t want to move and break the spell so I just lay there and counted every breath he took until sunlight started sneaking through the curtains and painting soft gold across the sheets. When I finally turned my head the space beside me was empty and the sheets were now cool. My stomach dropped hard as realization tugged at me—he left again, after everything he still left. I sat up too fast as pain flared through my shoulder, ribs, and my stomach like someone had lit matches under my skin. I swung my legs over the side of the bed swallowing hard the little cry that threatened to slip out. My bare feet hit the floor and the shock of the cold tile helped me focus. I stood u