**She thought she knew the man she loved. She was wrong about everything.** Vanessa Rodriguez's perfect life shatters in a single morning when she overhears her boyfriend Marcus discussing "loose ends" and how to "handle" her. The sweet daycare teacher who thought she was dating a banker suddenly finds herself running from a man she no longer recognizes—and straight into the arms of the most dangerous man in the city. **Alexander De Luca doesn't trust anyone. He can't afford to.** The ruthless mafia don has built an empire on fear and blood, but his six-month-old daughter Aria is his only weakness. When his longtime housekeeper can no longer care for the baby, Alexander needs a nanny he can trust. What he gets is a woman with secrets as dark as his own. **Some lies are worth dying for. Others are worth killing for.** When Marcus is gunned down in what appears to be a random mob hit, Vanessa has nowhere to turn except the penthouse of the man who just hired her. But as she settles into life caring for Aria, Alexander begins to suspect his new nanny isn't the innocent woman she appears to be. **In a world where trust is a luxury and love is a weapon, Vanessa and Alexander must decide what they're willing to sacrifice for the truth.** *Because some secrets are too dangerous to keep... and too deadly to tell.* --- *A dark mafia romance filled with betrayal, passion, and the kind of love that's worth going to war for.*
View MoreThe sound of shattering glass cut through the morning air like a blade through silk.
I froze in the middle of the daycare's main room, my hand still wrapped around little Emma's tiny fingers as she looked up at me with those wide, trusting brown eyes. The crash had come from the kitchen, followed by Marcus's voice low, dangerous, and speaking in words I couldn't make out from here. "Miss Vanessa?" Emma tugged on my sleeve, her bottom lip trembling. "What was that scary noise?" My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my voice to stay steady. Sweet. The way it always was with the children. "Just someone being clumsy in the kitchen, sweetheart. Why don't you go play with the blocks while I check on things?" She nodded and skipped away, her pigtails bouncing. Innocent. Untouched by the darkness that seemed to follow me wherever I went these days. I made my way toward the kitchen on unsteady legs, my sensible flats silent against the polished floor. Through the crack in the door, I could see Marcus standing with his back to me, his expensive suit perfectly pressed despite the early hour. He was talking to someone a man I didn't recognize with graying hair and cold eyes that made my skin crawl. "…needs to be handled quietly," the stranger was saying, his voice like gravel. "No loose ends." Marcus nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. The same hair I'd run my fingers through just hours ago as we lay in bed, he whispering sweet promises about our future together. "She doesn't know anything," Marcus said, and my blood turned to ice. He was talking about me. Had to be. "Vanessa's... innocent. Naive. She thinks I work late because banking is demanding." The stranger laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "Innocent women have a way of seeing too much, asking too many questions. Your girlfriend could become a problem." Girlfriend. The word should have made me smile—Marcus rarely called me that to others, preferring to keep our relationship private. But now it felt like a death sentence hanging in the air between them. I pressed closer to the door, my pulse roaring in my ears. What didn't I know? What had I supposedly seen? "Vanessa won't be a problem," Marcus said, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he was being absolutely serious. "I'll make sure of it." The world tilted sideways. Make sure of it? What did that mean? "You better," the stranger replied. "Because if she becomes one, we both know what needs to happen." My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the gasp that wanted to escape. Behind me, I could hear the children playing, their laughter a stark contrast to the fear clawing at my throat. These innocent babies who trusted me to keep them safe and here I was, bringing danger right to their doorstep. I had to get out of here. Had to think. But as I turned to slip away, my elbow caught the edge of a picture frame hanging on the wall. It crashed to the floor with a sound that might as well have been a gunshot. The conversation in the kitchen stopped abruptly. "What was that?" the stranger's voice cut through the silence. Footsteps. Coming toward the door. I ran. Not caring how it looked, not caring about explanations I'd have to give later. I just ran through the daycare, past the confused faces of my coworkers, past the children who called my name in bewilderment. "Vanessa!" Marcus's voice boomed behind me, closer than I'd expected. "Vanessa, wait!" But I was already pushing through the front doors, the cool morning air hitting my face like a slap. My hands shook as I fumbled for my car keys, dropping them twice before finally getting the door open. As I peeled out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Marcus in my rearview mirror. He stood in the doorway of the daycare, his face a mask of something I'd never seen before. Something that looked dangerously like calculation. --- I drove aimlessly for an hour, my mind spinning in circles like a broken record. Banking. Marcus worked in banking. Loans and interest rates and perfectly boring financial documents. He left early, came home late, and sometimes took calls that made him step outside or into another room. Normal boyfriend behavior, I'd told myself. Everyone deserved privacy. But now... Now I was remembering things differently. The way he sometimes got text messages that made his jaw clench. The expensive watch that appeared on his wrist last month a "bonus," he'd said, but his bank wasn't exactly known for generous bonuses. The way he'd been asking subtle questions about my work schedule, about which days I stayed late at the daycare. Had he been planning something? And if so, what? My phone buzzed against the passenger seat. Marcus's name flashed across the screen, followed by a text that made my stomach drop: *We need to talk. I can explain everything. Please come home.* Home. The apartment we shared, where I kept my clothes in his closet and my coffee mug next to his in the cabinet. Where I'd felt safe and loved and completely, utterly naive. Another text: *I love you, Vanessa. More than you know.* The words that should have comforted me only made the fear worse. Because now they sounded less like a declaration and more like a goodbye. I turned my phone face down and kept driving, not sure where I was going but certain I couldn't go back. Not yet. Not until I figured out what kind of man I'd been sharing my bed with. What kind of man had I fallen in love with? And what he meant when he said he'd "make sure" I wouldn't be a problem.The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the apartment as I finished my coffee, watching the city wake up below.Three weeks at the gallery had settled into a comfortable routine—one that included Ace's increasingly frequent visits.He'd started picking me up from work, claiming it was on his way home even though I knew his penthouse was in the opposite direction.He'd begun stopping by the gallery during his lunch breaks, always with some excuse about needing artwork for a client.And this morning, he'd arrived at my door with espresso from my favorite café and that smile that made my stomach flutter in ways I didn't entirely understand."You know I can walk to work," I said, accepting the coffee gratefully. "It's only six blocks.""I know. But I like driving you."The simple honesty in his voice made something warm unfurl in my chest."Besides," he continued, leaning against the kitchen counter with easy familiarity, "it gives me an excuse to see you twice in one day."T
The warehouse on the outskirts of San Francisco looked abandoned from the outside.Exactly the way I liked it.I pulled my Maserati between two shipping containers and killed the engine, checking my watch. Right on time for a meeting that could determine whether my arms dealing operation expanded into military contracts or stayed small-scale.The balance I walked these days felt like a tightrope stretched over an abyss.On one side was the father Aria needed—gentle, present, the kind of man who could teach her to ride a bike without blood on his hands.On the other hand was the don my organization required—ruthless, feared, willing to make the hard choices that kept us all alive.Some days, I wasn't sure which version of myself was real anymore.Colonel Miles was already waiting inside, his crisp uniform a stark contrast to the grimy warehouse surroundings.We'd done business before—small transactions, handguns mostly, nothing that would raise too many eyebrows.Today was different."
Alessandro's alarm went off at five in the morning.I felt him slide out of bed, careful not to wake me, but I'd been lying awake for hours anyway.Planning."Morning," I whispered, making my voice soft and sleepy.He turned, surprised to find me watching him in the gray pre-dawn light."Go back to sleep, Bella. I have an early meeting.""I'll make you breakfast.""You don't have to—""I want to."I slipped out of bed, letting my silk nightgown cling to my curves as I moved past him toward the bathroom.In the mirror, I caught his eyes following me, and a spark of hope flickered in my chest.Maybe today would be different.Twenty minutes later, I had coffee brewing and eggs Benedict on the table.Alessandro's favorite. The dish his mother used to make for special occasions.He appeared in the kitchen wearing one of his perfectly tailored suits, hair still damp from the shower."You didn't have to go to all this trouble," he said, but I could hear the appreciation in his voice."It's n
The silk nightgown had cost more than most people's rent.I'd worn it to bed every night for the past week, letting it slip off my shoulder at just the right moments, bending over to check on Aria so Alessandro could see the curve of my breasts.Nothing.He looked, of course. Alessandro was still a man, after all.But his eyes held the same distant politeness they'd carried since Marco's call three weeks ago.Since Vanessa's death.Since my victory.I adjusted the neckline of my cream silk blouse and checked my reflection in the hallway mirror before heading to the kitchen.If seduction wasn't working, perhaps it was time for a different approach.---Alessandro was already at the breakfast table, Aria on his lap as he fed her small pieces of cut strawberries.My heart should have melted at the sight—my handsome husband and our perfect daughter sharing their morning ritual.Instead, I felt the familiar stab of jealousy.Even grieving, even distant, he gave Aria more genuine affection
Two weeks at the gallery had changed everything.My hands were stained with ink from pricing labels. My feet ached from standing on the polished concrete floors. And for the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, I felt alive."Victoria, can you help this gentleman with the piece in the corner?" Giulia called from where she was hanging a new painting.I turned to see an older man studying one of her abstract works—swirls of blue and gold that looked like a storm meeting sunlight."It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said, moving to stand beside him."My wife would have loved it," he said softly. "She always said art should make you feel something, even if you can't explain what.""Your wife sounds like she understood what Giulia is trying to do with her work."He nodded, lost in the painting for a moment."Would have been our fortieth anniversary next month."The past tense hung heavy between us, and I felt that familiar ache of understanding loss without remembering my own."She w
The morning light streaming through the terrace windows felt like an accusation.Seven days.Seven days of sitting in this beautiful apartment like a china doll on a shelf, perfectly dressed and utterly useless.I set down my untouched coffee and stared at the ring on my finger. The same ring that had given me a name but no memories, purpose, or direction.Victoria Romano.Even saying it felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit.Maria had left fresh flowers on the kitchen counter—bright yellow sunflowers that seemed to mock my dark mood."Buongiorno, cara," she'd said when she arrived that morning, her usual warmth radiating through the small space. "You look better today."But I didn't feel better.I felt restless, caged, like I was slowly disappearing into the comfortable walls of this borrowed life."Maria," I'd said, watching her arrange the flowers. "I need to do something. Work, volunteer, anything. I can't just sit here forever."She'd paused, her weathered hands gentle on the
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