All Chapters of The Don is Mine: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

HOLLYI didn’t leave to hurt him. I left because I was starting to forget why I came.One week. That’s all I needed. Seven days to breathe. To think. To remember who I was before Luca Fazzari kissed me like I was something sacred.I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I didn’t need to. I found a cabin two hours outside the city — remote, quiet, surrounded by trees thick enough to swallow sound. No cell service. No distractions. Just me, my gear, and the ghosts I brought with me.The first night, I didn’t sleep. I lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind scrape against the windows. My body was still. My mind wasn’t.I kept thinking about him. The way he looked at me when I said I had plans. The way his voice dipped when he asked if it was Santino. The way he tried to hide the hurt behind that cool, unreadable face.I hated that I noticed. I hated that I cared.By morning, I was on the floor, barefoot, stretching until my muscles burned. Then I trained.Har

LUCAEarlier...I should’ve gone home. Should’ve poured a drink, stared at the ceiling, and let the silence do its work.But I didn’t.Instead, I found myself standing outside the Grand Velluto Hotel, hands in my pockets, jaw tight, heart doing something it had no business doing.I wasn’t here for love. I was here to forget.Adelina opened the door in silk and nothing else.“Well,” she said, leaning against the frame. “I was starting to think you’d finally grown a conscience.”“I left it in the car.”She smiled. “Come in, Luca.”I did.The suite smelled like perfume and expensive regret. She poured us wine without asking. She never asked. That was the appeal.“To bad decisions,” she said, raising her glass.I clinked mine against hers. “To distractions.”We drank.She watched me over the rim of her glass. “You look like hell.”“Thanks.”“Let me guess. Tea girl?”I didn’t answer.She stepped closer, her voice low. “You always come to me when she gets too close.”I didn’t deny it.She k

LUCAShe asked me to marry her.Not in a dramatic way.With candles and romance.No ring. Just a random moment in the suite, her voice soft, her eyes steady.“I want to be your wife,” Adelina said, sitting on the couch while I remained standing. “I want to give you a future.”I didn’t answer. Because I knew what she meant. And I knew what it would cost. **I flew to Macau the next morning like I just didn't come home from a trip. My life is really tiring and I miss Holly terribly. I had people reporting to me about her moves and so far nothing has changed. She's still working at the tea shop and Santino would go there and get tea from time to time which doesn't sit well with me. I don't like him hanging around her.My uncle was waiting in a private villa overlooking the sea, dressed in linen and disappointment.“You look tired,” he said.“I’m working.”“You’re always working.”I sat across from him, poured myself a drink, and got to the point.“Adelina asked me to marry her.”He didn

HOLLYThe washing machine at my apartment building died a dramatic, soap-sudden death on a Tuesday. One minute it was humming along, the next it was making a noise like a dying walrus and spitting suds across the floor like it was auditioning for a detergent commercial.I stood there, holding a basket of damp clothes and a sock in my hand like a white flag.“Same machine?” a voice said behind me.I turned to see a woman about my age, curly hair piled on her head like a crown of chaos, holding a laundry bag that looked like it had been through three wars and a toddler’s birthday party.“Yeah,” I said. “I think it just gave up on life.”She nodded solemnly. “Honestly, same.”Her name was Juliette. She was a graphic designer, a part-time dog walker, and a full-time connoisseur of overpriced tea and underwhelming men.We bonded over the shared trauma of laundromat life and the universal truth that dryers eat socks out of spite.By the time our clothes were tumbling in synchronized misery,

LUCAI didn’t slam the door when I got home. I closed it like a man who’d just been handed a contract with an expiration date.Because I had.Holly didn’t say no. She didn’t say yes. She said “Let’s not rush” and then offered to draw up a lease agreement like we were negotiating a sublet, not a life.I poured myself a drink. Then another.By the time Santino and Dante showed up, I was halfway through a bottle of something expensive and emotionally numbing.Dante walked in first, looked around, and whistled. “You redecorated. Very ‘lonely billionaire with trust issues.’”Santino followed, holding a bag of takeout. “We brought carbs. And judgment.”I grunted. “Perfect.”They made themselves at home like they paid rent. Dante flopped onto the couch. Santino set the food on the counter and pulled out three glasses.“Is this a wake?” Dante asked. “Because I didn’t bring black.”“It’s not a wake,” I muttered.“Then why do you look like someone just ran over your dog and proposed to your ex?