Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 7

Iris Pov“Order in the court! Case dismissed! The state wins this case. Moretti, you’re to pay a $100,000 fine, and no bail will be granted.” The judge half yelled as he slammed the gavel. Iris felt her cheeks from smiling too hard. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and looked around the courtroom, enjoying the shell-shocked face of her rival, Luke Parton, who was representing the Morettis. He was a cynical old man who thought that because she was a woman, she would never win this case.“Are you okay?” She mouthed, beaming with pride. This case was the thirtieth case she’d won this year as a criminal attorney. Yet another mob company dismantled. And if the headlines tomorrow were correct, she’d officially be New York’s mob-busting attorney.She stuffed her papers into her briefcase and muttered under her breath, “Famous for making the mafia sweat. Perfect life goal.” She personally held a grudge against the mafia that has been spreading around NewYork like a plague lat

Iris PovIris tugged at the hem of her deep emerald gown, feeling the silk cling to her curves in a way that was both flattering and terrifying. Her auburn hair fell down her shoulders, and her green eyes were sharp under carefully applied eyeliner, lips painted a daring shade of red, which contrasted well with her fair skin.The gown’s plunging neckline and slit up to her thigh screamed attention, which was exactly the opposite of how she wanted to feel tonight. But it was two weeks after getting married to Dante, and he was determined to drag her to every social event.She pressed her lips together, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and she groaned. “Why did I let him talk me into this?”Dante’s deep chuckle came from behind her. He leaned against the doorway, black tux perfectly tailored, white shirt crisp beneath the jacket, tie loosened just enough to look effortlessly dangerous. “You look… remarkable,” he said, “And nervous. I like that mix. Makes you unpredictable.”

Iris Pov“Ms. Rossi, a word?” A reporter’s voice cut through the hum of the event, camera flashes stabbing at her eyes. They’d just ended yet another social event.Iris shifted her weight, adjusting the silk of her deep green gown and pinching the strap that threatened to slip. She forced a polite smile, “Not right now, thank you.”Dante stood nearby, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, black tie perfectly knotted, and a faint wrinkle of a frown forming between his brows as he greeted another guest.Something about tonight felt off. Maybe it was the press, or maybe it was because Dante had been distracted ever since they got to the party. She shook off the feeling, muttering under her breath, “Get a grip, Iris. You’re not a teenager.” She didn’t want to admit to herself that she wanted him around her.“Mr. Moretti,” a reporter called, leaning forward over the velvet rope, “do you have any comment about the circumstances surrounding your father’s passing? There are whispers that—”

Dante’s POVDante had been pacing his room for almost twenty minutes, the same line on the floor now starting to look like a runway. His head was loud. Too loud. The pictures from the envelope kept replaying in his mind like a bad movie he could not stop.He hated being blindsided. It was the one thing he never tolerated.He stopped pacing and dragged a hand through his hair. “Who the hell took those photos?”Two names came to mind instantly.The first was Vincenzo Carbone. A rat with a face that always looked like it needed a punch. They had grown up in the same circles, attended the same expensive schools where boys were trained to become dangerous men. Vincenzo had always wanted what Dante had. Power. Control. Respect. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never get close to it. So he settled for petty games and cheap shots. The type of man who would send photos instead of bullets because he liked the slow burn.The second was Elena DeMarco. A woman Dante once trusted, back whe