I jolted upright, my breath catching in my throat as the remnants of the nightmare clung to me like a second skin. My heart thundered against my ribcage, sweat slicking my brow. I'd dreamt that Giovanni had found out the truth about my identity and he kicked me out. Luciano wasn't satisfied with the punishment so he took a revolver and shot me square in the head. It was grueling and too realistic. I could still feel the pain throbbing right in my forehead. I turned quickly to the side, searching for comfort but the space was empty. "Giovanni?" I called out softly, my voice was scratchy with sleep and panic. There was no answer. My eyes flew open, wincing at the soft rays of sunlight gleaming through the window. I looked at the time at wall clock and sighed,7:15I'd slept for quite a while. I wondered why Giovanni didn't wake me up, but then again neither of slept early last night. I could still feel the evidence of last night's activity pulsing between my legs and I couldn't d
GIOVANNI'S POV"Thank you."I finally said after a moment, tucking the documents into my inner jacket pockets. I would review them properly once I was home. "Are you happy?" I didn't respond immediately, gazing at the running machinery in the corner. My hands were folded behind my back, my jaw tight. Dad took a step closer, the click of his cane against the marble floor cutting through the silence. "Does Dahlia know this is her worth?" he asked, his voice was lower now. "Does she know why you really married her?"That made my shoulders stiffen. He chuckled under his breath and shifted his cane to his left hand, the lion head gleaming at me. "I did some digging," he said casually. "Turns out her father owed you quite a bit of money and couldn't pay back."He shook his head, as if the information personally offended him. "Poor girl. Sold off by both her husband and her father."I turned slowly, my eyes like steel. "Don't cross that line."Dad's expression darkened. "I already did wh
GIOVANNI'S POVThe room was heavy with smoke, the scent of tobacco mingling with expensive cologne and the faint trace of whiskey. I leaned back in the leather chair at the head of the table, a half burned cigarette pinched between my fingers as I listened to my men speak. "And the division in Upper East," one of them said, exhaling a stream of smoke," they've been cracking down on the trucks. Last week, they raided two of our deliveries." My eyes flickered toward him lazily. "Why?""New chief," another guy replied, stubbing out his cigarette. "Young blood. Real moral type. Word is, he turned down a hundred grand." That made the others chuckle, the sound was low and bitter. "Must be nice," someone muttered, lighting another cigar. "Still got that righteous fire. Bet it won't last the year."I leaned forward slowly, my cigarette burning to the end. "Everyone," I said coolly, "has a price." The room quieted, all eyes on me now. "Some want money," I continued, my eyes gleaming unde
Enzo held the photograph between his fingers, squinting at it like it was written in a language he didn't understand. "What is this?" He asked, his voice low and edged with confusion. My jaw clenched. "I should be the one asking you that!" I snapped, pacing in front of him. "You keep showing up, always with some clever line, like you know more than you say. I thought you agreed to back out of my life, what the hell do you want now?" My voice was rising now, bitter and sharp with frustration. "Is this your plan? Drive me insane until I confess? Is that it? You won't stop until you ruin me completely." Enzo's brows furrowed, his mouth twitching with something unreadable. Then he snapped. "I'm not behind this!" He barked, his voice booming through the quiet room. I froze. The silence that followed was deafening. "What?" I whispered. Enzo ran a hand through his hair, tossing the photograph onto the coffee table with a grimace. "Ever since the wedding," he said, his voice was cal
Enzo Pavarotti. I was sitting at the edge of the bed, my fingers dancing nervously across the screen of my phone. The name glowed on the search bar like a warning siren. It wasn't hard to find him. Not with the dozens of articles, interviews, and polished pictures of him in suits and fancy yachts. They had a branch not too far off from here, and something told me that he would be there. My heart raced. I could find him, go now without anyone noticing and clear all of this once and for all.The way Giovanni opened up to me last night left a raw wound in my chest, the fear that I wouldn't be able to reciprocate the same. In his eyes, I was Dahlia Monroe and that was all I could be. My memories didn't matter. My fears didn't matter. All I had to do was fit into the picture of the bride he chose. That was the agreement when I signed up to do this. But why did my heart hurt so much thinking about it. I stood up immediately, gripping my phone tightly. All of that did not matter righ
I tossed and turned beneath the sheets, my thoughts echoing like knives slicing through my skin. The room was eerily quiet yet my mind was screaming. The picture.The red scribbling.The word 'IMPOSTOR' clearly written on it. I pressed a hand to my chest, staring at the ornate ceiling, my breath shallow. I still couldn't shake the image of that envelope on the bed or the weight of the photo in my hands. Someone had broken into our bedroom. But who? Everyone had been normal during dinner. Cristina threw her usual snarky comments and raised eyebrows but that was just Cristina. Luciano was reserved tonight. He barely said much, but when José asked, he just waved him off saying it was something only old men could understand.No one bothered him after that. If it wasn't them, then who? I turned on my side, my eyes darting towards Giovanni sleeping soundly beside me, one hand loosely draped across his torso.He looked peaceful, unaware of the storm raging inside me. I bit my lip, gui