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The neon lights of Angel’s Den flickered in the rearview mirror as Milan climbed into the passenger seat of Vito’s car. She smelled of spilled gin, fried chips, and cheap tonic. She sighed heavily as she thought back to her shift. It was a blur. She had rushed through the night in a complete daze because of him.Her hands were still shaking slightly, buried deep in the pockets of her jacket.Vito didn't say a word as he pulled away from the curb. The interior of the luxury car felt like a pressurized chamber. Milan stole glances at him as he drove. He was driving with a lethal calmness and his movements were fluid and precise. She remained quiet and as far toward the door as possible. The silence wasn't peaceful, it was a battlefield. Every time he shifted gears, the scent of his expensive cologne drifted over, clashing with the stale smell of the bar on her clothes. Ten minutes into the drive, the pressure became unbearable. Vito’s jaw was a hard line of granite. He could feel
Milan started to keep her distance from Vito even though they lived in the same house. Her fear had turned into anger. Their last confrontation had opened her eyes. What he did to Mateo was unforgivable. Asking her to abort if she were pregnant was also unforgivable. She continued pretending that she was not pregnant but she was secretly arranging her return to the States with her March income from the waitress shift. She was proud of herself for keeping it together. She and Mateo grew apart after that incident. He didn’t plan another date or speak to her. When she tried to meet up, he gave excuses and she did her best to respect his decisions. She stayed away but kept apologising in text messages. Mateo refused to tell what truly happened and Vito remained a ghost. After her shift most nights, Milan finds it hard to sleep. She forced herself not to drink, but it was nearly impossible. Her guilt towards Mateo had consumed her. She’d had several nightmare
Vito leaned his forehead against the cool mahogany of the door, his eyes closing in a rare moment of defeat. He could break the door down in seconds. He was the Capo, and nothing in this house happened without his consent but he reminded himself that forcing his way in would only push her further into Mateo’s waiting arms. “Rest then,” he whispered, so low she might not even have heard him. Vito lingered there for a long time, listening to the silence of the room, before finally turning away. Milan was only able to sleep after he left. As Vito walked back down the hall toward his study, his thoughts shifted toward the Saturday summit. The Godfathers’ Night hung over like a death sentence. He had been having terrible nightmares but for Vito, the real war was being fought in the aisles of Angels Den the next day. When he caught Milan bent over a sink, pale and trembling. His concern was instantly swallowed by a toxic, burning jealousy. “Why are you vomiting? Don’t even try to tel
The tension in the club was as thick as the cigar smoke clinging to the ceiling. “Is he really that terrifying, or is it that you can't stand the thought of him not coming for you?” The question he asked Milan that day still echoed in his mind. Mateo barked out a furious chortle. He was the terrified one, and a cold dread had lived in the marrow of his bones since the moment he discovered that the address Vito had sent, then rescinded, was known as the location of “Punishment Villa.” Yet he stood his ground for Milan. He wanted to be her shield against a man who killed anyone who tried to claim what was his. The Wednesday night crowd was restless, the air buzzing with whispers of the high-stakes summit scheduled for Saturday. The local power players were on edge, and that agitation trickled down to the lower ranks. Milan was weaving through the tables when a hand shot out, thick fingers curling around her waist with a proprietary squeeze. The customer was drunk, his eyes glaze
The apron felt like a leash. Vito wanted to shred it, follow them into the night, and show Mateo exactly how violent his claim over Milan truly was. The sharp vibration of his phone against the mahogany table shattered the moment of silence. He instinctively looked down, expecting a routine report from his security detail about Milan's location. But when he saw the name on the screen, Kathleen Dinar, an icy shiver ran down his spine. He signaled to Andrea to leave the room. She nodded and slipped into her room, instinctively sensing the shift in the room's atmosphere. Vito answered the call, his voice cold and devoid of warmth. “Kathleen.” “Vito,” her refined British accent flowed smoothly, carrying a tone that was both charming and subtly menacing, with a trace of sarcasm that hinted at underlying threats. “I hear things are becoming quite crowded in Milan. I trust you’re diligently keeping your people safe? I’m monitoring Antonio Rocci’s movements closely. I called to
The evening of the date arrived, and Milan felt as though her nerves were vibrating beneath her skin. She was dressed in a backless, emerald-green dress, which was from the gifts Vito bought for her on the first night she was here. When she added the diamond necklace, its weight felt heavy, almost possessive. An inner voice asked her to check the huge diamond pendant for any hidden lens but she shook it off, believing Vito wouldn’t be that crazy.Tension tightened in her throat as she looked at her reflection. She was a walking masterpiece funded by one man’s hand, yet she was stepping out into the night to meet someone else.Milan noticed that she couldn't stop trembling, so she tried to calm her nerves by breathing in and out. She was nervous and it wasn't because of the upcoming date.Frankly, she hadn't mentioned the outing to Vito because she was terrified he wouldn’t allow her to leave the house. She didn't even dare send it as a text messa
Vito woke to a soft, insistent tapping on his bedroom door. For a brief second he let himself believe it was Aurora following their morning routine. He glanced at the small clock on his bedside table and froze. It was still too early for the little girl to be up. The wine from the night before and t
Milan could hardly breathe. Having Vito’s powerful presence standing before her was overwhelming. Too overwhelming. His eyes looked darker than ever, smoldering with an intensity that gave her a fleeting, dangerous thought: that he wanted to kiss her.Damn it if that didn’t send heat flooding betwe
The house felt strangely hollow that evening. Milan stood by the dressing table, slipping on a pale blue dress that fit as if it had been made for her. Every piece of clothing Vito had brought her seemed to match her size perfectly, except the shoes and watches, which were slightly large but sti
“You need to stop drinking,” Vito finally spoke to Milan, his voice low, controlled, but with a touch of rage. “You’re hurting yourself.”She scoffed, grabbing her glass from him. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’re going to forbid me from drinking too.” Before she could take another sip, Vito reached out, t







