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Chapter 17

Author: Raven Sanz
last update Last Updated: 2025-11-05 06:33:25

HOLLY

The washing machine at my apartment building died a dramatic, soap-sudden death on a Tuesday. One minute it was humming along, the next it was making a noise like a dying walrus and spitting suds across the floor like it was auditioning for a detergent commercial.

I stood there, holding a basket of damp clothes and a sock in my hand like a white flag.

“Same machine?” a voice said behind me.

I turned to see a woman about my age, curly hair piled on her head like a crown of chaos, holding a laundry bag that looked like it had been through three wars and a toddler’s birthday party.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think it just gave up on life.”

She nodded solemnly. “Honestly, same.”

Her name was Juliette. She was a graphic designer, a part-time dog walker, and a full-time connoisseur of overpriced tea and underwhelming men.

We bonded over the shared trauma of laundromat life and the universal truth that dryers eat socks out of spite.

By the time our clothes were tumbling in synchronized misery,
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  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 22

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  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 21

    HOLLYI never imagined my life would change this fast.One day I was pouring tea for strangers in a shop that smelled like old wood and forgotten dreams. The next, I was unlocking the door to Steeped in You — my tea shop. My name on the lease. My blends on the shelves. My future steeping in every corner.Luca had handed me the keys like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just rewritten my entire story with one gesture and a crooked smile.The shop was beautiful.Warm oak counters. Soft lighting. A wall of loose-leaf jars labeled in my handwriting. The sign above the door shimmered in gold cursive: Steeped in You. Romantic. A little dramatic. Entirely us.Inside, the staff was already buzzing. Three baristas, one pastry chef, and Lila — my manager — who had the energy of a caffeine-fueled general and the clipboard to match.“Welcome, boss,” she said, handing me a cup of jasmine green before I could speak.I blinked. “You know my order?”“Luca sent a dossier.”Of course he did.The morning

  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 20

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  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 19

    LUCAI didn’t slam the door when I got home. I closed it like a man who’d just been handed a contract with an expiration date.Because I had.Holly didn’t say no. She didn’t say yes. She said “Let’s not rush” and then offered to draw up a lease agreement like we were negotiating a sublet, not a life.I poured myself a drink. Then another.By the time Santino and Dante showed up, I was halfway through a bottle of something expensive and emotionally numbing.Dante walked in first, looked around, and whistled. “You redecorated. Very ‘lonely billionaire with trust issues.’”Santino followed, holding a bag of takeout. “We brought carbs. And judgment.”I grunted. “Perfect.”They made themselves at home like they paid rent. Dante flopped onto the couch. Santino set the food on the counter and pulled out three glasses.“Is this a wake?” Dante asked. “Because I didn’t bring black.”“It’s not a wake,” I muttered.“Then why do you look like someone just ran over your dog and proposed to your ex?

  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 18

    LUCAThe pub was loud. Not the kind of loud that came from music — the kind that came from men who’d survived too many shootouts and too few therapy sessions.It was our place. No cameras. No outsiders. Just leather booths, bad lighting, and enough whiskey to drown a small country.I was in the VIP section with Dante. He had a woman curled up beside him — blonde, glossy, and laughing at everything he said like he was the second coming of Sinatra.He wasn’t serious about her. She was serious about him.Typical.The table was cluttered with half-empty glasses and half-finished conversations.One guy was talking about a shipment delay in Naples. Another was bragging about how he’d “negotiated” a deal with a rival crew using nothing but a crowbar and charm.I wasn’t listening.I was nursing a drink and watching the ice melt.Dante leaned over. “You’re quiet.”“I’m thinking.”“Dangerous habit.”He sipped his whiskey. “She respond yet?”I didn’t look at him. “I’m giving her space.”He snort

  • The Don is Mine   Chapter 17

    HOLLYThe washing machine at my apartment building died a dramatic, soap-sudden death on a Tuesday. One minute it was humming along, the next it was making a noise like a dying walrus and spitting suds across the floor like it was auditioning for a detergent commercial.I stood there, holding a basket of damp clothes and a sock in my hand like a white flag.“Same machine?” a voice said behind me.I turned to see a woman about my age, curly hair piled on her head like a crown of chaos, holding a laundry bag that looked like it had been through three wars and a toddler’s birthday party.“Yeah,” I said. “I think it just gave up on life.”She nodded solemnly. “Honestly, same.”Her name was Juliette. She was a graphic designer, a part-time dog walker, and a full-time connoisseur of overpriced tea and underwhelming men.We bonded over the shared trauma of laundromat life and the universal truth that dryers eat socks out of spite.By the time our clothes were tumbling in synchronized misery,

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