The news of the engagement spread like wildfire. In the Bianchi home, smiles were strained and silence grew heavy.
Alessia’s mother had always been wary of the Moranos, but even wariness could be softened by promises of a better life. The Donato patriarch assured her that after Alessia married Luca, the Bianchi family would never know poverty again. Farmlands. A house of their own. A car. Even gold jewelry for her wrists and ears. So they nodded. Smiled. Pretended to rejoice while their eyes said otherwise. Alessia, however, barely slept. Her dreams were filled with the ghost of Lorenzo's empty smile, and her days were haunted by Luca's unreadable eyes. She had tried to speak with Luca after that day. To explain. To ask what he felt. But Elias, one of Luca’s most loyal men, whispered to her that Luca had been furious after seeing her with Lorenzo but held himself together out of respect for her family. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Not in her home. Luca’s silence hurt more than words. *** The wedding day came faster than expected. Alessia had never seen herself in white before. Daisy, now her bridesmaid, had helped her undress from her maid’s uniform, folding it quietly and setting it aside like a relic from another life. “You look beautiful,” Daisy whispered as she fixed the veil. “Like someone finally stepping into the light.” Alessia turned to the mirror. For the first time in eight years, she didn’t look like a servant. She looked like a bride. But she didn’t feel free. Outside, guests filled the mansion courtyard. The Morano estate had never looked so elegant. Musicians played softly, and the air was filled with roses and whispered gossip. Luca’s past lovers were there too—eyes sharp, words sharper. “You always had your eyes on him, didn’t you?” one sneered as Alessia passed. “From rags to riches, just like that.” Another had called her the night before, laughing on the line. “A maid with ambition. Cute. Don’t forget where you came from.” But none of them dared insult her to her face after Luca made a public warning days before: “Anyone who disrespects my future wife will pay for it in blood. That is not a threat. It’s a promise.” No one tested that promise. *** The ceremony went smoothly. Vows exchanged. Rings slipped on fingers. A kiss that felt like a seal more than love. The guests cheered. Alessia blinked back tears she didn’t understand. And then it happened. As the first champagne bottle popped, gunshots rang out. Screams tore through the celebration. From the balcony, Alessia saw shadows move—men dressed in black, faces masked. Chaos broke loose as guests ducked for cover. The Morano guards sprang into action, returning fire, drawing weapons from hidden holsters. But it wasn’t just any attack. Alessia’s breath caught when she spotted him. Lorenzo. Standing among the shooters, dressed in black, gun in hand. His eyes met hers—cold, unflinching, distant. And then, he raised the weapon and fired into the crowd. Alessia screamed. “No!” Daisy grabbed her, pulling her back as Luca appeared by her side, shielding her instantly with his body. “Get her inside!” he barked to Elias. “Now!” “No one will hurt you,” Luca whispered fiercely into her ear. “Not on my watch.” But Alessia couldn’t move. Her legs felt rooted, frozen by the sight of the man she once loved pointing a gun at the family she was now part of. Bullets echoed in every direction. But not one of them touched her. The Morano security team, known for being brutal and fast, had pushed back the enemy within minutes. Some attackers were wounded, others captured. None escaped unnoticed. Alessia didn’t see any of that. But Lorenzo's betrayal remained. And so did her silence. She was still staring into the smoke and dust, into the vanishing crowd, searching for Lorenzo. He was gone....The news of the engagement spread like wildfire. In the Bianchi home, smiles were strained and silence grew heavy. Alessia’s mother had always been wary of the Moranos, but even wariness could be softened by promises of a better life. The Donato patriarch assured her that after Alessia married Luca, the Bianchi family would never know poverty again. Farmlands. A house of their own. A car. Even gold jewelry for her wrists and ears. So they nodded. Smiled. Pretended to rejoice while their eyes said otherwise. Alessia, however, barely slept. Her dreams were filled with the ghost of Lorenzo's empty smile, and her days were haunted by Luca's unreadable eyes. She had tried to speak with Luca after that day. To explain. To ask what he felt. But Elias, one of Luca’s most loyal men, whispered to her that Luca had been furious after seeing her with Lorenzo but held himself together out of respect for her family. He didn’t want to cau
Alessia didn’t know which burned more—Luca’s scent still on her skin or the panic she felt when she saw Daisy at the other end of the hallway. Her heart hammered as she adjusted her dress quickly and walked toward her friend. She masked her flushed cheeks with a polite, tired smile. “Where have you been?” Daisy asked, folding her arms. Alessia forced a chuckle. “Luca asked me to tidy up… an abandoned room downstairs. He said he was expecting a special guest.” Daisy raised a brow, skeptical. “He’s usually expecting his usual sluts, but not a maid,” she said jokingly. Alessia dropped her gaze, guilt washing over her. Then, trying to change the topic and use the moment to apologize to her, she said, “Daisy… I’m sorry. I shattered your dreams of becoming married into the Morano family. But you know I didn’t choose any of this. If I had my way, you’d be the one Donato chose for Luca. You deserve it. You’ve worked
Daisy ran back to their room as tears poured down her cheeks. Alessia called out her name and hurried after her, but before she could reach the door, Daisy slammed it shut and locked it from the inside. “Daisy, please open the door,” Alessia begged softly, knocking. But Daisy refused to answer. Just then, Donato walked down the hallway and noticed Alessia standing alone. He approached quietly. “When you’re less busy,” he said, “the family has something important to discuss with you. After your chores tomorrow morning.” Alessia gave him a nod and whispered, “Ok sir.” Luca had arrived at the club. After downing a glass of strong liquor and watching the strippers swirl on the pole with practiced seduction, he headed upstairs to his private suite. Two women were already waiting on the bed, posed seductively just as he liked—lingerie
"Get out, you fucking bitch!" Luca barked harshly, shoving his steel-hard dick back into his pants, fumbling slightly as he reached for his trousers. His voice was sharp and dangerous, dripping with frustration and desire left unsatisfied. Alessia stood still, trembling. Something about what she'd just witnessed stirred something deep inside her. The scent of sweat and lust still hung heavy in the air. Her body betrayed her, a wave of wetness pooling between her thighs. Her nipples hardened, brushing against the thin fabric of her blouse. She shouldn’t feel this, not about him. Not about Luca Morano. But damn it, she did. She clutched her arms around herself, confused and ashamed. Why am I imagining him holding me the same way? Touching me the same way? Why do I wish it was me beneath him, moaning his name? No, she screamed inside. I can’t feel this. I’m a servant. Just a servant, and I have my lover. But wha
Silence suffocated the air as Donato, the eldest son of the most dangerous mafia king, stood at the corner of the lounge watching his father, Morano, who sat dominantly with a stern face. He parted his lips and said, “I want Luca to get married to one of the maids working for us since I didn’t see a reasonable lady around Luca,” he said firmly. Morano, who sat elegantly in his dimly lit bedroom, turned to face his son with a raised brow, clearly caught off guard. “Why would you bring up such a suggestion?” he asked slowly, his tone stern and questioning. Donato stepped forward. “You know it’s our family tradition — as the first son, I have the right to choose a bride for my younger brother. And I’ve made my decision. Luca isn't getting any younger.” Morano leaned back slightly, intrigued now, as he glared at his son, perplexed. It was true Luca wasn't getting younger, but doesn’t this feel so sudden? “So which maid are you planning on marrying him to?” “There’s a girl,”