NikoLuca gazes at me with an expression of disbelief, his wide eyes shimmering with curiosity. He tilts his head slightly to one side, reminiscent of a perplexed child. "My grandfather has an island here?" he questions, each word laced with incredulity. "That can't be true; his estate was divided between my father and grandmother after his passing.""Do you doubt Mitchel's word?" I inquire, a flicker of uncertainty gnawing at me as I ponder whether we should trust him. We still haven't had that talk about Alexandra. Considering it, what did happen to her?"What happened to Alexandra?" I ask Luca, my voice barely rising above the muted sounds of the bustling market. I take another drag from my third cigarette in just ten minutes, the smoke curling around me like a restless ghost.We're making our way back to the dock, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of street food sizzling nearby. Our goal is to find Sven; his perspective on recent events is crucial. We must also r
Continued: "Shut up, Mother," Franko demands, his tone icy and frightening, as the back of his hand meets her cheek with a resounding crack. The atmosphere shifts sharply; every feminine gaze drops to their laps, avoiding the growing tension. The other women present are notably younger, and I can't shake the impression that they might be girlfriends rather than wives or mothers to Derek's sons. Their expressions are a mix of shock, fear, and, most importantly, jealousy. "I see that's taken my sons by surprise," Derek admits with a keen smile, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement. "The women can leave now," he stipulates, beckoning the men from outside to assist in herding them away. As they pull their chairs back, a silent invitation to stand, one man approaches me, but Derek intercepts him with a slow shake of his finger. "She stays." The man steps back, compliance etched across his features, as he helps usher the other women out. He closes the door with a heavy thud behi
Continued: Determined to absorb every detail that may serve me in the future, I consciously take in the intricate patterns and shadows of the hallways connecting the various rooms in this sprawling home. We return to the lavish cinema room that doubles as a living area, but this time, we venture down the hallway that Franko and Benji had explored just yesterday. It feels as though we're already deep underground, yet we descend two flights of stairs, emerging into a dimly lit common area where women and children congregate at lined tables in a bustling canteen. The air is thick with unspoken tension, and eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and scepticism turn toward me. I sense a heightened vulnerability here, much more so than in Derek's presence, as if these women, more than the innocent children, resent me merely for existing in this space. "Disregard them; they all harbour their own reasons for their disdain. You're the only woman to come, leave, and return," Benji murmurs, his
Bianca Benji guides me back to my room, the air thick with an oppressive silence that feels almost suffocating while the tears cascade down his cheeks like silent rivers of anguish. Every step he takes seems to weigh heavy on his heart, the pain evident in the clenched muscles of his jaw and the rigidness of his posture.As we pause, waiting for the door to mysteriously swing open, I reach out instinctively, yearning to connect with him. But he turns away, his grip on my wrist becoming a vice-like hold, firm and unyielding. The tension between us crackles with unspoken anger, swirling beneath the surface like a storm ready to erupt. I brace myself for the fallout, convinced that I deserve it after my actions. In a twisted way, I welcomed it; perhaps a slice of pain would be better than this unbearable guilt.Yet, when the door finally creaks open, he pushes me inside with a surprising gentleness that contrasts sharply with my expectations. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound o
Continued:"Because I know you," he responded, an understanding warmth creeping into his tone. "I recognise how overwhelming it is to imagine Emma living a life devoid of my presence. I truly understand.""And what about our men, Luca?" I asked, glancing apprehensively at the other tables. They pretended to be engrossed in their conversations, but I could feel their eyes lingering on our exchange, bemused by my awkwardness."They will follow my command as Don," he assured me, his confidence radiating like the bold lights of the city outside."Now, enough of the lingering distractions. We need to discuss Bianca," Luca urged, the rhythmic sound of conversations hiding his hushed words. "Has she mentioned anything about The Densels? What's her connection to them? Has she ever stepped foot in their base?""Yes, actually, she has," I replied, recalling her words from yesterday as I strolled along the ocean's edge, the cool breeze meeting the sea's dampness against my skin. "She believes th
Niko "Call team three to question the locals," Luca instructed, his voice firm as we stepped out of the dimly lit hotel and into the narrow alleyway we had recently escaped through. Today, an eerie stillness blanketed the mainland, an unsettling contrast to the usually vibrant street life. A sense of abandonment hung in the air, likely a consequence of the violent shootout that had erupted between rival mafia families just yesterday. My choice to create that mess has sent an underlying message to every family that there's rivalry, though whether the word has spread who fought or not is still to be determined. This mainland, a heavily fortified section of the mafia elite's holdings, was a world unto itself. Most residents were either tightly woven into the fabric of their families—through blood, obligation, or a lifetime of service—or simply enjoying a quiet retirement after a life steeped in crime. The families invested substantial resources into the community, ensuring its surviva
Continued:"Not only do you disrespect me in my own home, but my son too?" he bellows, the volume of his voice reverberating off the walls, filling the room with tension."My respect is earned, not freely given," I declared, my voice dripping with defiance as I spat the words at him. A surge of rebellion welled up inside me, overpowering any rational thought about the consequences of my actions. The air crackled with tension, and I could feel the heat of the moment coursing through my veins.Before I could register the twitch of Derek's fingers, his fist flew for my face, and I fell, twisting at such an angle that my lip hit the corner of the table leg, bursting it open and spreading my blood through the hole that shouldn't be there.Derek reaches down for me, pulling me roughly to stand before pushing me against his desk. I fight, kicking out, but this only allows him to grab my legs, spreading them before he settles between a precarious place on my body. I freeze long enough for him
Bianca I awoke to the unsettling sight of a strange man hovering by my bedside, his hands deftly fastening a familiar cuff around my arm. Although his face was unfamiliar, something in his gaze—an intense warmth and deep concern—made my heart race, as if he genuinely cared for my well-being.Instinctively, I recoiled into the embrace of the plush pillows, desperately putting distance between us. "Shh," he whispered softly, urging me to remain still. His voice was smooth and calming, like a gentle lullaby."It's okay, Ms. Rossi. I'm just checking your blood pressure. You can go right back to sleep," he said, an air of ease in his tone that resonated with a sense of déjà vu."Who are you?" I mumbled, still tethered to the remnants of sleep, my mind foggy and slow."Dr. Phillip Agar," he replied, a warm smile spreading across his face, crinkling the corners of his kind eyes. "It's a pleasure to see you again.""Again?" I echoed, confusion knitting my brow."I treated you a few years ago
Continued: "Help me," I pleaded, echoing my earlier desperation from the boat. The weight of my vulnerability was palpable in the air. "I'm trying, Bambi, but you're hating me every step of the way," he confessed, his voice laced with frustration yet tinged with an unmistakable warmth that hinted at his deeper feelings. What motivated him to reach out and offer his assistance? And why was it so difficult for me to let him transform this moment—no matter how long it lasted—into something more bearable than the unbearable experience I had just endured in the bathroom? "I don't trust easily," I remarked, twirling a forkful of creamy Fettuccine Alfredo, the comforting taste of my favourite dish that my mother used to prepare with such love—if she really was my mother at all. A shroud of uncertainty enveloped me, and the more I pondered, the more the mysteries of my past loomed large, casting shadows over my thoughts. Whether these uncertainties were a product of my imagination or roo