LOGINCandice Harper’s world shatters when her mother remarries billionaire Sanna d’Agostino just weeks after divorcing her beloved father. Uprooted from New York to a glittering Los Angeles mansion, the 17-year-old senior vows to endure one year of this gilded cage before escaping to college—and freedom. But freedom becomes a distant dream the moment she locks eyes with her new stepbrother: Mantovani d’Agostino, the infamous mafia underboss hiding behind a polished facade of wealth. Mantovani is a storm wrapped in control—ruthless, volatile, and haunted by a darkness he refuses to name. Ordered by his father to play English teacher at Candice’s elite academy while hunting the sheriff dismantling their empire, he plans to despise the innocent girl invading his world. One glance at her fragile beauty among the lilies, however, ignites a forbidden fire he can’t extinguish. She’s off-limits. She’s, his stepsister. Yet every shared breath in their opulent prison tightens the noose of desire around his throat. As Candice navigates a life of bodyguards, paparazzi, and a mother obsessed with status, she’s drawn to the brooding enigma who fleas from her presence yet watches her like she’s prey. Strange midnight visits, heated glances, and whispered commands blur the line between protection and possession. Mantovani fights to bury his hunger, but the mafia’s shadows creep closer—enemies circle, secrets unravel, and a single misstep could destroy them both. In a world where loyalty is blood and love is a death sentence, Candice and Mantovani must choose to surrender to the inferno threatening to consume them… or burn the empire down trying to resist.
View MoreCandice's P.O.V.The safe house we ran to was a plain little cabin in the hills outside L.A., the sort of place that smelled of pine and dust, and I was pacing the wooden boards of the floor, which creaked under my feet, my thoughts full of the pictures of the flames of the villa licking the sky and the devastation of the war cutting deeper into our lives and Mantovani sat at the rickety table cleaning his gun, his green eyes fixed but distant, his weight of leadership making him look invulnerable and at the same time, infinitely human. Sanna was lying in the corner on a cot with his burns bandaged by the gentle hands of Mom and she sat next him now, her fingers twisted and intertwisted with his, and their relationship a silent passion born of the ashes, that even in this messiness of things, the flame could still burn and the love not be killed. Conti, with his patched up face straining with every word, called out to the scattered company, with a low, urgent voice, which c
Candice’s POVThe villa—our home, the place where Mom and I had rebuilt trust, where Mantovani and I had first confessed love on a moonlit piano—was engulfed in flames on that screen, and I felt my world fracture again, the war striking when we were halfway across the country, the sheriff’s revenge perfectly timed to split our forces and break our spirits. Dad’s apartment suddenly felt too small, the air thick with shock as Mantovani grabbed the phone, trying to call Sanna, Conti, anyone, but getting only static and voicemail, his face paling beneath the stubble, and I clutched Dad’s hand, promising him he was safe now, even as my own safety crumbled thousands of miles away. Mom sank into a chair, whispering, “We left them alone; this is my fault,” guilt eating at her, but Mantovani knelt in front of her, voice firm, “It’s the sheriff’s fault, Elena; we finish this for all of us,” and the passion in his eyes reignited our resolve, turning grief into action.We secured Dad in a safe lo
The image seared my retina--the face of my dad, bruised and terrified, with duct tape over his mouth, the background his small apartment in New York that remained easily identifiable--and I was falling over to the world tipping the scales and my legs shaking as Mantovani picked me up, and the only thing supporting me is his face, which was duct taped, and I kept saying, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no Mom looked at the screen and screamed, her hand to her mouth, with tears instantly and streaming because even after the divorce she still cared, still recalled the man who had loved us both in his silent fashion and Sanna took the phone, his face hard to something deadly, and ordered flights and alliances to be made at once in New York. Bandaged though he was, and insisting on remaining, Conti rose, growling, on the couch, saying, We get him back, no one touches family, and the intensity with which he spoke was reflected in
Conti fell with a sickening shock, and the blood leeked over his shirt like red wine, and I screamed his name and sank to my knees beside him, my hands against the wound in his shoulder, and I could feel the warm stickiness run through my fingers at the first touch, and then Mantovani was there, and his gun was being leveled at the new traitor--Giovanni, one of the bodyguards, who had been with us since the start, and his face was drawn up in remorse and covetingness as he took the smoking pistol, and said, "The The war boomed out again within our house, bullets bouncing on walls, Sanna and the rest of the remaining loyal men fired back and Giovanni was forced to seek protection behind the overturned dining table and Mom seized a dropped gun, shaking in hands, but glaring, screaming, No one takes my family! and fired a shot before he could wring the trigger which cut Giovanni on the arm, causing him to scream with pain.Mantovani dragged Conti along a column and tore his own sh
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