로그인She married him for revenge. They say grief makes you fragile. They're wrong. Six months ago, Carmela Ferrara’s sister Elena died under the protection of the one man that was supposed to keep her safe—Don Gabriele Conti. Her husband. Now Carmela has one goal: revenge. But nothing in the mafia is ever as simple as it seems. Gabriele is dangerous, damaged, and hiding deadly secrets about the night Elena died. And the closer Carmela gets to destroying him, the more she realizes her sister's death wasn't what everyone believes. In a world built on blood and betrayal, where every vow is a weapon and trust is fatal, Carmela must choose: continue her revenge or uncover the truth. Because the real killer is closer than she thinks. And in the mafia, that mistake could cost her everything. Some vows are made to be kept. Others are made to ruin. 'Til vengeance do us part. An enemies-to-lovers, dark, morally gray romance novel built on revenge, betrayal, self-destruction and revenge.
더 보기CARMELA'S POVThe meeting had been Gabriele's idea, which surprised me, because everything I'd learned about him in the weeks since our alliance formed suggested he preferred to keep the Russians at a comfortable distance.He told me the night before, standing in the doorway of the study while I was going through papers, in the tone he used when he'd already made a decision and was informing rather than asking."The Russian Vor will be there tomorrow evening. Alexei Volkov. He's attending on behalf of the Pakhan." He paused. "I need you to be present.""As your wife," I said."As my wife," he confirmed, and the way he said it had shifted slightly from the earlier weeks. It sounded less like a role he was reminding me to perform and more like a fact he was stating. I nodded and looked back at my papers and listened to him leave.****The dinner was small and carefully curated, the kind of evening that looked social and was entirely business. I spotted Alexei Volkov the moment we walked
CHAPTER FIFTYCARMELA'S POVI found the files three days later even though I hadn't been looking for them specifically.I'd been going through the study adjacent to our bedroom, the one Gabriele had told me I could use as my own workspace, casually checking every drawer and cabinet the way I'd been doing since I arrived in this house. It was an old habit. You learn every room you're trapped in. You find every exit before you need one.The false bottom in the third drawer was well constructed — flush with the wood, no visible seam unless you knew the particular pressure point that released it. I found it by accident, pressing too hard when the drawer stuck, and felt the panel shift beneath my hand. I stood there for a moment before I lifted it.The files underneath were not Gabriele's. The handwriting on the tabs was different and the paper had the particular quality of documents that had been handled carefully and stored with intention. Someone had put these here deliberately, whic
CHAPTER FORTY-NINECARMELA'S POVThe morning after the dinner, I found Gabriele already in his office.He didn't look like a man who had slept, which told me he'd been at this since before dawn. The desk was spread with papers, his coffee had gone cold beside him, and he had the particular focused stillness of someone who had stopped noticing the world around them hours ago. He looked up when I came in and gestured at the chair across from him without preamble, which I appreciated. I didn't want pleasantries this morning. I wanted to work."Marco spoke to you alone last night," he said, before I'd even fully settled. "At the door, after dinner. What exactly did he say?"I'd been turning the conversation over since it happened, deciding how much to give and in what order. "He mentioned Elena," I said. "Framed it as a cautionary tale. He said she was smart but pointed her intelligence somewhere it didn't belong." I watched Gabriele's jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. "He wanted me to k
LCARMELA'S POVI dressed carefully for dinner.Not elaborately — that would have looked like effort, and effort would have looked like nerves, and I wasn't going to give anyone at that table the satisfaction of my nerves. I chose something simple and dark, fixed my hair, and stood in front of the mirror long enough to make sure the face looking back at me gave nothing away. Then I went downstairs.The dining room was already occupied when I arrived. Enzo Conti, Gabriele's uncle, was a broad man in his sixties with the particular gravity of someone who had spent decades being the most important person in every room he entered. He was standing near the head of the table talking to Gabriele in low, rapid Italian when I walked in, and he paused when he saw me, spreading his hands in a gesture of welcome that managed to be both warm and slightly performative."Carmela." He came forward and kissed both my cheeks. "Che bello vederti in piedi. Ci hai fatto preoccupare tutti." How wonderful to
CARMELA'S POV I woke up to the soreness between my legs. It was evidence of last night.The sheets were tangled around me and I could smell him on my skin—his cologne mixed with sweat, whiskey and sex.Gabriele's side of the bed was cold, which meant he'd been gone for a while.I couldn't look at
GABRIELE'S POVI pushed two fingers inside her, feeling her clench around me. She was tight—so fucking tight—and hot and perfect.Her hips bucked against my hand involuntarily."That's it," I murmured, pumping my fingers slowly. "Your body knows what it wants even if you don't want to admit it.""I
CARMELA'S POV “Viktor Kozlov.” Gabriele extended his hand. “I didn't realize you were interested in modern art.”Kozlov. I'd already recognized him from the accent but now it was obvious. This man was Russian. Beside him were two men with two women beside each of them. They were all expensively d
CARMELA'S POVI woke up to the sound of voices outside my door.This was not the usual guard chatter. This was different. I sat up, listening."—Don't care what your orders are. I'm family. Open the fucking door."Marco.I glanced at the closet where Elena's evidence was hidden, then at the clock.
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