She's all I see

Mantovani's P.O.V

I couldn’t understand why I acted like this around Candice. I had gone to her room to make up for being rude, but everything I said and did felt wrong. I hated myself for feeling things no brother should feel.

Conti was wrong to call Candice our sister. 

I saw myself as a threat to her. I remembered the terrible things my father did to me and wanted to keep Candice safe from that. But after what happened with Jane, I feared Candice needed protection from me more than anyone else.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept drifting to Candice—her shy, quiet way, the way she moved. It made something twist deep inside me, a heat I couldn’t shake. 

When she called me "brother," I felt a bit guilty, how could I have such thoughts and feelings towards my new sister? but it only made the desire burn hotter. I told myself it was just frustration, that I was craving something else.

"Argh, I can't sleep," I muttered to myself as I got out of bed and paced the garden, hoping the cool night air would cool my burning thoughts.

As I passed her door, I noticed it was slightly open. Giovanni and Aston said she’d been in there for the last hour. Knowing she’d tried to talk to the guards made me uneasy, but I was glad they kept their distance. 

For once, Dad’s rules about keeping her safe made sense. I made sure guards stood close by her window—especially after hearing how Sherif’s men had torn apart other mafia families so brutally.

But all I could think about was her—how soft her skin must be, how fragile she looked. And how much I wanted to protect her... or maybe something more.

I stood in front of Candice’s room, pretending to check the window, but my eyes refused to look away. The moonlight kissed her skin perfectly, making every curve impossible to ignore. Her breasts caught me instantly—full, flawless, and so tempting. I could see the soft molds of her nipples pressing just beneath the skin. I whispered under my breath, “They are huge…” and the words burned hotter than I expected.

A fierce heat spread through me, raw and deep, a hunger I couldn’t push aside. I imagined cupping those breasts, feeling their weight in my hands, and suckling on them—taste, warmth, softness. The thought made my pulse slam against my ribs, twisting desire with guilt.

I forced myself to pull the blanket over her slowly, my fingers lingering too long, trembling with the fire inside me.

Backing out, my heart pounded like a drum. I told myself I couldn’t lose control, not now, not ever. But the image of her perfect body and those hard nipples was burned into my mind—and I knew it would haunt me for a long time.

---

Candice's P.O.V

'Oh crap.' I cursed in my head. 'I forgot to lock the door.'

I lay in bed, confused by Mantovani’s strange behavior. He acted distant and kept running away from me, which only made me more annoyed. To distract myself, I tried talking to the bodyguards outside. My old friends ignored me now that I wasn’t useful to them anymore, and it made me feel lonely. Talking to Aston helped a little, but Giovanni stayed cold and distant. I planned to ask them about the heavy security—it made me uneasy.

That night, when Mantovani came into my room, I pretended to be asleep. I didn’t want to deal with his weird mood swings. I felt his eyes on me, my bare breasts pressing against the cool sheets. I couldn’t move—doing so would only make things more awkward.

Then I heard him whisper, soft and low, “They are huge…”

My heart raced. Nervous and excited, my mind spun with questions. What was he going to do? What if he touched me, or worse? The thought sent a heat rushing through me, and I scolded myself for feeling that way.

Then I felt the blanket gently cover me, and I realized, 'Maybe he wasn't as bad as I thought?'

The next morning...

I woke to Mom standing over me, her voice too bright for someone dragging me out of bed so early. “Candice, we’re going to visit Conti today,” she said, smoothing her already perfect hair. “You remember—Sanna’s adopted son.”

I didn’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice. “Conti, huh? Does it really matter?”

She smiled too wide, that fake kindness that always made my skin crawl. “It matters because he’s part of the family now. And you need to get along with him.”

I scoffed softly, sitting up. “I heard he has a fiancée.”

Mom’s smile didn’t falter, but I caught the twitch in her eyes. “Yes, he does. But that shouldn’t bother you.”

I clenched my jaw. Why did it bother me then? I told myself it shouldn’t. It wasn’t my business. But hearing about Mantovani having someone else made a dull ache in my chest.

Mom’s voice softened, almost sweet. “You know, appearances are important. People watch us. It’s how we survive.”

I stared at her, feeling the weight of years in that one sentence. I remembered how Dad always stood up for me before everything fell apart—how he never cared about appearances, only about me. Now, I had to swallow my pride and tolerate Mom’s endless acting for just one more year. One year, then freedom.

She reached for my closet, already picking out a dress. I sighed but didn’t argue. I knew how this would go.

When she handed me a short white dress, I pulled at the fabric, hating how fragile and exposed it made me feel. I didn’t want to wear it, but Mom’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Candice, it’s what you need to wear. Trust me.”

I nodded slowly, putting it on, each moment feeling like I lost a little more of myself.

It was time for breakfast. Mantovani sat at the head of the table. He looked stiff and didn’t really notice me. He acted like I wasn’t there, and it made me feel uneasy.

Sanna, though, was very kind to me. He smiled a lot and seemed nice. That surprised me because I had heard stories about him being mean and proud. But right now, he seemed friendly, and that confused me.

Mantovani didn’t say much. When Sanna told him we had to visit Conti for the weekend, I saw Mantovani’s jaw tighten. He looked angry but didn’t argue. He just followed orders.

I wondered why Mantovani was so cold and quiet while Sanna was so friendly. Was Mantovani always like this? Or was he hiding something?

Just before we left, Mantovani hardly looked at me—except once, when his eyes quickly flicked to my chest. My heart jumped, and I wasn’t sure if I really saw that or imagined it. He seemed tense and answered in short words.

That made me curious and a little excited. Maybe spending the weekend with him would show me the truth. Was he really this cold, or was he secretly interested in me like I thought?

I wanted to find out. I needed to know.