Lucia Romano hadn’t wanted to come home.But when your father was Don Salvatore Romano, one of the most ruthless and respected mafia dons in the country, saying no wasn’t an option. She’d known, deep down, what awaited her the moment she stepped off that plane. An arranged marriage. A merger disguised as a wedding. A cage gilded in power and expectation.But she hadn’t thought it would happen so fast.She woke up in her old room, one that hadn’t changed since she was sixteen. Still soft cream walls, still those heavy silk curtains, still that view overlooking the courtyard where the Romano men trained every morning.Lucia stretched, her body sluggish with jet lag, and moved to the window out of habit.And promptly froze.There, shirtless and glistening in the morning sun, was the man from yesterday. The one she’d had a messy, embarrassing misunderstanding with in town when he nearly ran into her car and then called her a reckless driver. She hadn’t known who he was then.She did now.
16The air in Napoli was thick and fresh. Late afternoon sun spilled across streets and walls, the kind of old world charm Rafael Montayo had no patience for. He tugged the sleeves of his jacket, stepping out of the sleek black car that had ferried him from the airport.His father had made it sound like a routine trip, settle a deal, keep an eye on one of their less reliable allies, and report back. But Rafael knew Javier Montayo too well.There was always another game behind the one he showed you.His phone buzzed as he crossed a narrow street toward a café terrace. Alessio’s name lit the screen.Alessio: “Don't miss me too much"Rafael smirked, typing a reply. “No promises.”He slid the phone into his pocket just as a blur of motion slammed into him.A sharp elbow jabbed his ribs. A heated voice spat, “Watch where you’re going, asshole.”He caught her wrist on instinct. Dark eyes met his, furious, beautiful, and impossibly familiar. Tousled hair, travel wrinkled clothes. There was a
The tension of their conversation hung heavy between them. Alessio’s pulse still thundered in his ears, the words they’d just traded settling like lead in his chest. He hadn’t planned to come here angry. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to come here at all.But the thought of Rafael walking headfirst into a trap, of his father putting a bullet between those familiar, reckless eyes, made something unbearable twist inside him.Alessio stepped back, breaking the grip Rafael had on his jacket. “I mean it, Rafael,” he said quietly, his voice raw from everything unspoken. “If you’re not careful, they’ll come for you. And I won’t be able to stop it.”Rafael’s gaze searched his face, something softer, sadder flickering in the depths of his dark eyes. “Would you even want to stop it?” he asked, a bitter edge in his voice.Alessio’s throat tightened. “Don’t ask me that.”“I need to know,” Rafael insisted, his hand catching Alessio’s wrist, the grip firm but not rough. “If it came down to it… if it
The morning came too soon.Alessio woke with the sharp Ray of sunlight cutting through his window, the hazy glow of dawn brushing against his skin like an accusation. His head ached not from drink, but from the kind of exhaustion that sleep never really fixed.For a fleeting second, he reached across the bed, expecting to find Isabella still there.But of course, there was only cold sheets.And duty.Always duty.A knock came at the door, sharp and impersonal. Without waiting for a reply, Pietro one of his father’s trusted men stepped inside, his face as unreadable as ever.“Your father wants you downstairs,” Pietro announced. “Now.”Alessio scrubbed a hand over his face, dragging himself up. “What is it this time?”“Meeting. Something about the Marcelli deal. And your presence is expected.”Because of course it was. He was the heir. The future of the De Luca name. A pawn dressed up like a king.“I’ll be there,” Alessio muttered, already reaching for the nearest clean shirt.Pietro l
It wasn’t the kind of view you’d find in the expensive lounges or penthouses they both knew too well, it was rougher, quieter, the kind of place no one bothered to look.A forgotten rooftop on the outskirts of town. Unassuming. Discreet.And for tonight, it was theirs.Alessio leaned against the low wall at the edge of the roof, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as the wind teased through his dark hair. He wasn’t dressed like a don’s heir tonight. No tailored suit. No polished shoes. Just dark jeans, a black sweater, and the kind of exhaustion that came from pretending too long.He checked his watch.11:47 p.m.He’d sent the message earlier, his words brief but unmistakable.“Come find me. I need you.”No location shared, no address. Rafael would know where.And sure enough, a minute later, footsteps echoed softly against the worn concrete. Alessio didn’t have to turn to know it was him.A pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him in close. The sce
The night air hung thick, carrying the scent of rain and wet concrete. The courtyard behind the Montoya estate was quiet except for the ragged breathing of the man kneeling on the ground, his face swollen and streaked with sweat.Rafael stood a few feet away, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, the glow of the security lights catching the sharp lines of his face. His expression was unreadable, a portrait of calm edged with something colder.“Rafael.....please,” the man stammered, voice cracking. “It wasn’t me. I swear it on my mother’s grave, I didn’t...."“You passed the information,” Rafael said, his voice low and steady. No Drama. No threats. Just fact. “About the port shipment. To the Ravellis.”The man’s eyes widened. “No.... I....I only...”Rafael’s hand moved without hesitation. The pistol came up, the barrel glinting in the half light. There was a single, sharp report, the crack of the shot cutting clean through the night.The man collapsed in a heap, blood darkening th