Mag-log inA few hours later, the dining room had transformed.The table was cleared, the chairs pushed aside, opening the space into something looser, more social.Along one wall, a bar had been set up, staff moving quietly as they poured wine and whiskey.The lights dimmed, casting the room in a softer glow, while classical music drifted through the low hum of conversation.It was exactly the kind of gathering Anna imagined rich people enjoyed.Everyone looked relaxed, but the ease felt rehearsed, every laugh and gesture carefully measured.Across the room, women gathered in small groups, their jewelry glinting beneath the lights as they whispered about luxury vacations, designer handbags, and houses so massive they barely needed renovating.Anna drifted away from the crowd, knowing she didn’t belong there.She stopped near a floor-to-ceiling window, half-hidden in the shadows, and pressed her back against the cool glass, letting out a slow breath.From there, she could see Vincenzo across the
Anna watched the faces of the people around the table shift—eyebrows lifting and lips pressing together, a thin, eager hunger for drama flickering in half a dozen eyes.“Or did you use Miss Camilla for her father’s connections, like the rumors say, and then dump her?” Mr. Dom added, his tone mocking.The room rippled with low murmurs again.Vincenzo dropped his hands to his thighs.His fingers curled inward, knuckles whitening as his fist tightened around nothing.Anna’s gaze traced the line of his arm to his shoulder, where his neck was held rigid and every muscle drawn tight.Veins stood out against his skin, pulsing with each beat of his heart.His jaw was clenched so tightly she could see the muscle twitching beneath his cheek.His gaze stayed locked on Mr. Dom, cold, impassive, and lethal, like he wanted to kill him.Which he wanted to do more than anything right now.He wanted to pull the trigger, put an end to him, and finally silence the fucker.But he knew he shouldn't.It wo
The morning light sliced through the gap in the curtains—a blade of gold driving straight into Vincenzo’s skull.Slowly, he stirred awake, dragging an arm over his eyes to block it out.A groan tore from him, low and guttural, echoing inside his head.Pain pulsed behind his temples, sharp and relentless, as though someone were hammering against his skull from the inside.“I really should stop drinking,” he grumbled.The words hurt his throat as he said them.Drinking had become a habit. A bad one, he knew.But it helped him cope with the pressure—the deals, the threats, the need to always stay in control.For a few hours, it let him forget everything.But it never lasted.The hangover always hit the next morning, hard and sometimes unbearable.And each time, he regretted it more than the last.He lay on the bed for a while longer, letting the pounding in his head settle just enough to move.Eventually, he pushed himself up, rubbing a hand over his face as if he could wipe the hangover
Anna’s body went rigid as shock rooted her in place.For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.But Vincenzo didn’t stop.He kissed her relentlessly like a man possessed, as if he meant to erase every thought in her head.When she still didn’t respond, he gripped her waist and pulled her flush against him, dragging a sharp gasp from her lips.His tongue forced its way past her lips, the kiss turning deeper, hungrier, demanding more than she was ready to give.It stole her breath, her balance, her will.And then… something in her broke.She kissed him back.It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful.It was raw, unsteady, charged with everything she’d been holding back.Vincenzo’s lips were firm and unyielding against hers, carrying the taste of whiskey and something darker, something that made her knees threaten to give out beneath her.His hands rose to her face, gripping firmly as his fingers tangled in her damp hair.He tilted her head back and deepened the kiss, harder this time, as t
Anna hesitated for a moment at the doorway, her gaze sweeping across the polished counters and the quiet sense of order that ruled the space.Stepping further into the kitchen, her eyes flickered between Martina and Rosalia.“I guess I must learn how to make Italian dishes today," she remarked, a slight tilt to her head. "There’s no escaping this, is there?”Martina and Rosalia exchanged a quick glance and smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah,” they said together.Without another word, Anna joined them at the counter, and Rosalia handed her a knife and a cutting board.Rosalia showed Anna how to slice the eggplant thin, how to layer the lasagna sheets just so, how to season the sauce until it tasted as if it had been simmering for generations.Martina stood beside her, chattering about nothing and everything—about the time Isabella had set fire to a dish towel, about the way their father used to sneak bites from the pots when their mother wasn't looking, about the recipe that had
Anna stared at Vincenzo, her mind a whirlwind of questions that tangled and twisted over one another.But beneath all of them, one question burned brighter than the rest, searing itself into her thoughts until she could think of nothing else.Why was he asking her if she wanted to know more about Lucia?Vincenzo’s gaze dropped to the necklace in his hand.His fingers traced the silver chain with deliberate slowness, letting it slide between his knuckles, catching the afternoon sunlight with every subtle movement.Then he turned to Anna. "You are curious, aren't you?"Anna's throat constricted.She swallowed, but her mouth had gone dry as dust, and the motion did nothing but scrape against her esophagus.She forced the words out anyway. Her voice came out smaller than she intended. "Emm… not really."Clasping her hands in front of her, she threaded her fingers together. “I already heard about her from Isabella at dinner last night. So… I’m not really curious.”Vincenzo exhaled slowly.
The guard guided Anna down the long hallway and then carefully down the stairs, each step deliberate and quiet. At the bottom, he turned to the right, leading her along a dim lit corridor. Their footsteps echoed against the polished floor, magnifying the sound of her own uneven breathing. Anna’s s
“You heard me. The Boss wants you moved to the his quarters,” the maid said again. Anna sat up slowly, confused and still dazed. “Why?” The maid shrugged. “He didn’t say. Just told me to tell you to move to his quarters.” Anna climbed down from the bed, her arms sore and her legs heavy with ex
Anna froze, her heart pounding. The air grew heavy, thick with tension. She didn’t dare look up, but she could feel Vincenzo’s stare burning into her. Her entire body trembled now, her breath coming in shallow gasps. For a long moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, Vincenzo leaned back in his chair
Days passed, and Anna spent them observing the room. She no longer drifted from the window to the bed without thought. Now, every movement was deliberate and calculated. She always stood still in the center of the room, eyes scanning every corner, angle, and crack, from the gap between the door







