The Mafia’s Runaway Bride

ROSA’S POVThe silence in Vincenzo’s penthouse was suffocating. The moment we stepped inside, he let go of my wrist. I almost stumbled back, my heart racing. I should have felt relief, should have been glad he let me go, but instead, my skin tingled where his fingers had been, like his touch had burned into me. The place was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the glittering city. Everything screamed power and control, black leather, dark marble, dim lights casting long shadows. A cage, I realized. A beautiful trap. Vincenzo watched me like he was figuring me out, his dark eyes trailing over me slowly. I felt exposed, like I was still standing under the club lights, like he could see right through me; to my fear, my desperation… and how much he affected me. I swallowed, forcing my voice to stay firm. “You had no right.” He turned, unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling them up as if he had all the time in the world. “No right to what?” “To interfere,” I snapped. “To d

Rosa’s POVThe walk back to my apartment feels longer than usual.The streets are quieter at this hour, but the silence does nothing to soothe the chaos in my mind. My heels click against the pavement as I pull my coat tighter around me, a weak attempt to shake the cold that has settled deep inside my bones.I don’t have enough money.The thought plays over and over in my head, each repetition pressing down on me like a crushing weight.The hospital visit had drained me. Not just emotionally, but financially. The cash I had managed to grab at the club wasn’t even half of what I needed. The surgery, the hospital bills, the medicine—it was too much.I need more.And I know exactly where to get it.A sick feeling coils in my stomach as I consider going back to the club. The idea of stepping onto that stage again, of letting men leer at me, touch me; it makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.But I don’t have a choice.I would do anything for my daughter.Even this.I push the thought a

ROSA’S PoV It was Bianca Ricci. My best friend. She was standing in the doorway, the shock on her face mirroring mine. I had thought I would never see her again. Her red lips were curled with disdain and I could tell that she wasn’t happy to see me. She just stood there, watching me, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. The memories hit me brutally, uninvited, rushing to the surface after being buried for years under the weight of struggle. The secrets we had whispered in the dark and the clink of the wine bottles we had stolen from my father’s cellar. As she stood there watching me, I could hear her laughter from faraway, a beautiful sound that was all Bianca’s. She looked different now. Harder. She stepped inside, moving with the same effortless grace she had always possessed. That easy, unshakable confidence that had once drawn me to her. Bianca knew her place in this world; after all, she was the daughter of a ruthless mafia don. She walked straight to Vincen

ROSA’S PoVI stepped into the bedroom as Vincenzo had ordered. The door clicked softly behind me, and I stood still for a moment, letting the quiet wash over me. The faint smell of his cologne lingered in the air, reminding me of the many nights we had spent tangled in each other, our bodies moving together like a melody neither of us could resist. I had missed him. Leaving him had been the toughest decision of my life and I still couldn’t get over it.My mind wandered to the letter that Bianca had handed to him. I thought of how close she had been to him. It was like we had switched roles.“You’re a lucky woman, Rosalinda,” it was Bianca. Four years ago when everything had seemed right with the world.I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Really? Why? Because a pretty boy loves me?”I sighed now at the fleeting memory. Vicenzo had always been a pretty boy but now that he was tough and rough on the edges, he was more handsome. And it was starting to seem like Bianca was the lucky one. But why

VICENZO’S POVI could feel unbearable pain shooting up my arm but I was glad that I was alive. The world was still ringing from the aftermath of the gunfire. Smoke curled through the air, thick with the stench of blood and burnt rubber. Bodies littered the ground, bodies of Bianchi’s men, some of mine. But the fight was over. We had won.I stood there, my breath coming fast, the dull ache in my shoulder flaring every time I moved. Blood—mine and others’—streaked down my arm, soaking into my already ruined shirt. Mateo was at my side in an instant his eyes scanning me.“What’s the loss?” I asked, my words coming out in gasps. “Minimal compared to theirs,” he said. “You need a doctor.”It was a declaration of fact but I rolled my shoulder, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through me. “I need a drink.”Mateo exhaled, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.The rest of my men were already gathering what was left of our forces, dragging the bodies away, clearing the scene before the cop