All Chapters of Mafia's Obsession: Hidden Flame : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The dining hall was bathed in soft, amber light — the kind that made everything look more intimate than it really was. The overhead pendant lamps cast a warm haze across the wooden table, highlighting the glint of cutlery, the dark shine of red wine, the gentle steam curling from ceramic dishes of roasted vegetables and fresh-baked focaccia.Siena sat diagonally across from Elena, her posture composed, her smile polite. Adriano was between them — of course — like a human barrier neither of them would acknowledge. He served the risotto without a word, his movements clean and quiet, as if unaware of the subtle tension rising with every clink of the serving spoon.Elena Caruso was elegance sharpened into a blade.She wore a black dress — sleek, sleeveless, a slit running high along one thigh — and carried herself like she’d been born under chandeliers. Her lips, bold in crimson, curled with an ease Siena instantly distrusted. Her eyes scanned the room with amusement, pausing only briefly

The sun had risen, but the light didn’t warm the villa.It slipped through the tall windows like something foreign — cold, pale, and unwelcome. Shadows clung to the corners of the hallways. The air felt thick. Still. Like the pause between the strike of a match and the flame.There was no breakfast.No clatter of plates, no aroma of eggs or toast. Just silence — pure, unbroken silence — stretching across the stone floors and echoing down the staircase like a verdict.Adriano sat at the kitchen table, unmoving.His black T-shirt clung to his back in clean, sharp lines. His jaw was set. One hand rested on the ceramic mug in front of him — still full, still hot. The other drummed once against the wood before stopping again. Even the coffee felt heavier than usual.He didn’t ask where Siena had gone.He already knew she hadn’t slept in their bed.But it wasn’t until he’d woken before dawn and walked down the hall that he realized — she wasn’t in Lucia’s room either. Her blanket was gone.

The morning crept in slowly, like it wasn’t sure it was welcome.Pale light seeped through the gauzy curtains, soft and hazy, casting a golden blur over the edges of the bed. It touched the sheets like an apology, gentle and quiet. The world beyond the window was silent — no birds yet, no footsteps, just the hush of a house that hadn’t fully woken.Siena opened her eyes.At first, she didn’t move.Her body was warm, limbs tangled in something that didn’t feel like a blanket — firmer, steadier. Her head rested against a bare shoulder, and for one long breath, she simply… stayed.It wasn’t adrenaline anymore.It wasn’t anger, or hunger, or the kind of pain that chased people into each other’s arms just to outrun themselves.It was stillness.And that, somehow, was the strangest part.She exhaled softly and lifted her gaze, just enough to see him.Adriano lay on his back, chest rising in a slow, even rhythm. His hair was tousled, mouth slightly parted, the hard lines of his face softened

The warehouse didn’t feel any warmer the second time.If anything, the air inside was colder — as though it had absorbed the weight of what had already happened within its walls. The concrete floor still bore faint smudges from the last interrogation. The metal table in the center had been wiped down, but not perfectly. Not enough to forget.Siena stepped through the doors first this time.Her boots echoed softly. Not hesitant, not afraid — just careful. A different kind of alertness now sat behind her eyes. She wasn’t here to flinch.The room was lit by a single overhead fixture — too bright, too exposed. The shadows clung hard to the corners, like they wanted to escape what was about to unfold in the middle of the room.There he was.A man in his fifties, slumped slightly in a chair, wrists bound tightly with reinforced cuffs. His face was bruised — not freshly, but clearly not for the first time. A trace of blood marked his collar. His left eye was already swelling shut.He wasn’t

The rooftop was quiet.Too quiet for a city that never slept.Milan, in all its splendor, stretched beneath them — a glimmering mosaic of power and decay. The rooftop of the Castello Rosso Hotel offered a view few ever earned: a city split between gods in suits and ghosts in leather jackets.Siena stood near the edge, the wind brushing against her like a whispered warning. Her hair fluttered behind her, raven-black and wild against the silver sky. Her heels clicked once against the stone, then stilled. She didn’t move again.Adriano stood a few feet behind her, suit jacket undone, shirt unbuttoned at the throat. He wasn't looking at the skyline. He was watching her. Always her.Below, sirens wailed in muffled cycles — in and out like tides. Red and blue lights ricocheted across car windows, alleyways, statues older than the republic. Shadows moved fast between buildings, motorcycles weaving through the dark like sharks sensing blood. The city was breathing differently tonight.And the