INICIAR SESIÓNThis girl is pushing it.
I’m trying my best not to lose my shit, but then she throws that line—“I don’t want or deserve a fuckboy like you for a husband.”
What the actual hell?
Yeah, that’s it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
“Listen, GreenLee,” I say, keeping my voice calm—barely. “I know I’m not perfect. But name-calling? That’s not necessary.”
She shrugs, unapologetic. “I’m just stating the obvious. I know I’m not what you normally go for. You probably thought I’d make this easy for you. But unlike the sluts you’re used to, I don’t just open my legs for a pretty smile. No need to get upset. I’m sure you’ve got opinions about me I wouldn’t like either.”
And then she rolls her eyes.
Why does she have to do that? Why does she have to be such a brat? So damn disrespectful.
“You’re right,” I snap. “Why would I want a little disrespectful brat who doesn’t know her place for a wife?”
I expect tears. That’s what most women do when I bite back.
But not her.
She smiles. Cool. Unbothered. And goes back to eating like I didn’t just insult her.
“Nothing more to say, little girl?”
I want to push her. Test her limits. See what makes her break.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say,” she replies, standing up. “But as you said—I need to know my place. So if it’s alright with you, I’ve got studying to do.”
She turns to leave.
“Actually,” I say, voice sharp, “we need to finish our agreement before everyone leaves. So sit back down.”
She stops. Breathes. Turns around.
But she doesn’t sit.
She stands there, arms crossed, eyes locked on mine. No fear. Just rage. Pure, unfiltered rage.
“I thought I already finished it,” she says. “Like I said—I don’t want or need a man-whore, fuckboy like you for a husband.”
And then she walks out.
She said no.
To me.
No woman has ever refused me.
Sal clears his throat. “Luca, please forgive her. She’s as bullheaded as her mother was at that age.”
“It’s alright, Sal,” I say, still staring at the doorway. “I get it. It’s a lot to take in. We should give her space tonight. Try again tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” Sal asks. “I’d understand if you wanted to walk away from the deal.”
“Sí,” I nod. Gio gives me a look like I’ve lost my damn mind.
But all I can think about is her fire. That spark. That fury.
That fire I want next to me.
Wait—next to me?
What the hell was that?
Do I actually want her as a wife? Or just a challenge? I’ve never been husband material. But her rejection? It hits different. It makes me want to prove her wrong.
“We’ll talk more in the morning, Sal. John, Rob—good to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” John says. “Sorry about our sister. She can be a handful.”
Rob smirks. “She’s got fire. Hope you can handle it. And I know you’re powerful, but if you hurt her—you’ll answer to us.”
“I understand,” I say, nodding. “I’ve got a sister too. I’d say the same thing to any man who looked at her.”
I laugh, shake their hands, and head upstairs.
It’s been a long day.
As I reach the top of the stairs, I notice her door is open.
Maybe if we’re alone… we can talk.
Or maybe I’ll finally figure out what the hell she’s doing to me.
They think I’m broken.Liam watches me like I’m a trophy he’s cracked. His uncle calls me “the Ricci girl” like I’m some cursed relic. They think the bruises, the silence, the locked doors mean they’ve won.Let them.Let them believe I’m shattered. That I’ve forgotten who I am. That I’ve traded my name for survival.Because I am surviving. Every breath, every quiet step through this gilded prison, every time I bite my tongue instead of screaming—I’m surviving. And I’m learning.Liam doesn’t sell me like the others. Says I’m “his.” But he treats me like inventory. Like something to control, to parade, to punish. He wants me to forget I’m a Ricci. Wants me to forget I’m GreenLee’s daughter. Luca’s blood. Wants me to forget I was raised in fire.Flashback:They didn’t understand.Not Papa. Not Matteo. Not Salvatore.They saw Liam and saw danger. I saw him and saw freedom.“He’s not one of us,” Matteo said, voice sharp like he was trying to cut Liam out of me.“He’s hiding something,” Sal
They handed me the keys like it was a favor. Like taking over the Bruno family was some kind of honor. It wasn’t. It was a cleanup job. Uncle Sal left behind a legacy soaked in blood and bad deals, and I was the poor bastard with the mop.Kansas City fits me. It’s got teeth. The kind of place where people smile with their mouths and lie with their eyes. I don’t mind. I’ve got my own brand of honesty—numbers, leverage, and the kind of silence that makes men nervous.Matteo and I came out of the womb in sync, but we split somewhere along the way. He went diplomatic. I went direct. He plays chess in candlelit rooms. I play poker with men who carry knives in their boots. Doesn’t mean I don’t love him. Just means I know what game I’m playing.The Lords of Valhalla MC trust me because I don’t pretend. I don’t flinch. I don’t ask questions I already know the answers to. Jasper’s got its own rhythm—steel, leather, and loyalty that doesn’t need words. We run guns because it keeps the peace. An
I came into this world sixty seconds before my brother—just a minute, but it’s a minute that shaped everything. My father, Luca Ricci, always said it was fate. My mother, GreenLee, preferred to think of it as destiny. Either way, from the moment I drew my first breath, the weight of the Ricci name settled around my shoulders.Salvatore and I have always been mirror images: both tall, both tan, both inheriting the strength of two empires. But if you look close, you’ll see the difference. My hair is black as midnight, just like my father’s—unmistakable, a mark of the Ricci line. Salvatore’s is a blend, streaked with hints of red that catch the sun, a living reminder of our mother’s Kansas City fire. People used to mix us up, but never for long. I carry my legacy on top of my head; Salvatore wears his on his brow.Growing up in the Ricci estate felt like living in a gilded cage. Every lesson, every glance, every whispered promise was meant to mold me into the next Don. There was no room
GreenLeeFive years ago, I was surviving. Now, I’m watching my sons chase balloons across a backyard filled with laughter—and I’m finally breathing.Matteo and Salvatore are five today. Five candles. Five years of becoming. Not just for them—for all of us.Rob and Gabby are married now, expecting their first baby. She glows like someone who’s finally safe.John and Hannah are on baby number three—a boy this time. I think he’ll be the one to teach John how to slow down and listen.Sal and Lori have been married four years. Still dancing like they’re the only ones in the room.Gio and Gina—twins already, and another baby due any day. Their house is chaos, but it’s the kind that sings.Luca’s parents are finally enjoying retirement, even if Papa insists on flying to Missouri once a month to “check on Sal.” We all know it’s just his excuse to stay close to the noise he loves.Tosha and Toni are on baby number three.Talia’s eight now, and she’s already the kind of big sister who makes spac
They all saw joy. I saw responsibility.Metteo Alessio Ricci. Salvatore Luca Ricci.Two names. Two boys. Two futures I’d die to protect.GreenLee looked at me like I’d given her the world. Truth is, she gave me mine. I held Metteo first, felt the weight of my grandfather’s name settle into my arms like a vow. Defender. That’s what Alessio means. I’d never understood it until now.Then Salvatore. Her uncle’s name. My own. That one hit harder. Legacy isn’t just about blood—it’s about choice. And GreenLee chose me. Chose us.The room was still buzzing, but I was somewhere else. Back in the alley behind Nonna’s bakery, where Gio and I first learned how to throw a punch. Back in the chapel where I swore I’d never let this life touch the people I loved.Now I had two sons. And a woman who trusted me to keep them safe.The villa was full—of noise, of love, of people who’d survived too much and still showed up. GreenLee was upstairs with the boys, finally asleep. I’d checked twice. Maybe thre
I thought I knew what pain was. I’ve worn it like silk, stitched it into every smile I’ve ever faked. But this—this was different. This was raw and holy and loud.Luca’s hand was wrapped around mine, steady. He didn’t speak much, just watched me like I was something sacred. Not fragile. Not broken. Just… becoming.The nurse said it was time. I nodded, even though I wasn’t ready. Who ever is?The first cry came fast. A boy. My boy. They placed him on my chest, and I swear I felt the world shift. He was warm and real and mine. I cried like I hadn’t in years—like something inside me cracked open and let the light in.Luca kissed my forehead. “He’s perfect,” he whispered.But the nurse didn’t move away.“There’s another,” she said.I blinked. “Another what?”“Another baby.”I stared at her. At Luca. At the boy in my arms. My heart stuttered.Twins.They’d hidden each other. Every ultrasound, every test. One curled behind the other like a secret. Like a shadow.The second cry was softer. S







