บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia Princess: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

The wedding was over, but its echo clung to the villa like perfume on silk. Half-empty champagne flutes lined the tables, laughter still hung in the air, and the scent of roses—now wilting—drifted through open windows. GreenLee stood near the balcony, watching the last of the guests disappear into the night. Her heels were off, her hair slightly undone, but her posture remained composed. Luca joined her, jacket slung over one shoulder, his gaze scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble to arrive dressed in moonlight.They stayed behind, playing hosts even after the curtain had fallen. But beneath the surface, GreenLee’s thoughts churned. The vows, the smiles, the staged perfection—it all felt like a performance she hadn’t auditioned for. Luca sensed it. He didn’t speak, just stood beside her, a silent sentinel.Meanwhile, Sal and Gio drove Ivan through the dark, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Ivan’s face was unreadable, but his silence screamed. Sal’s grip on th

The villa felt different now. Not heavier—lighter. Like something toxic had finally been exhaled. Ivan was gone, and with him, the shadow that had stretched across too many corners of our lives.I left Luca with Gio and my brothers. They needed to talk, to laugh, to dissect the chaos that had led us here. I needed something quieter. Something real.Aunt Lori was in the sunroom, her fingers curled around a mug that smelled like chamomile and resolve. She looked up when I walked in, and her eyes softened the way they always did when she saw me—like she was seeing my mother in me, and me in my own right.“I need your help,” I said, sitting across from her. “It’s about my IUD.”She didn’t blink. Just nodded once. “You and Luca?”I nodded. “We want to start a family.”She set the mug down and leaned forward, her hands warm and steady on mine. “GreenLee, I’m not your mother. But I loved her like a sister. So I’m going to ask you what she would’ve asked.”I braced myself.“Are you choosing t

GabbyI stood near the lemon trees, watching the shadows stretch across the courtyard. Rob was laughing with his brother and mine, easy and open, like he belonged in every room he entered. I liked that about him. I liked a lot of things about him.And that scared me.Italy was my home. My roots. My rhythm. Missouri was a place I couldn’t picture, except through the stories GreenLee told and the way Rob said “y’all” like it was a love language.I didn’t hear him approach until he was beside me.“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You’ve been quiet.”I nodded. “Just thinking.”“Dangerous habit.”I smiled, but it didn’t reach my chest.He leaned against the tree beside me, arms crossed. “Can I ask you something?”I nodded again.“What’s going on between us?”I swallowed. “I don’t know.”“I do,” he said. “I like you, Gabby. I like the way you laugh when you’re surprised. I like how you listen with your whole face. I like that you challenge me.”I looked at him, heart thudding. “You live in Missou

Sal I never thought I’d be here again. Not just in Italy—though God knows this land has its own ghosts—but here, in this moment, wondering if it’s too late to start something new with someone who’s known me longer than most of my regrets.Lori’s been part of my life since before I knew what loss felt like. She was my sister’s best friend, my wife’s confidante, the one who always showed up with a bottle of wine and a sharp tongue when things got too quiet. We grew up in the same neighborhoods, ran in the same circles, buried too many of the same people.And yet, tonight, watching her laugh with GreenLee in the courtyard, I felt something shift. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet tug in my chest, like maybe the part of me that’s been asleep since the funeral finally stirred.I’ve spent years raising my niece and nephews, trying to give them something solid to stand on while the world kept shifting beneath us. I buried my own child before I ever got to teach him how to ride a bike. I

The silk of the gown whispered against my skin as I stepped into it, the color a deep garnet that Luca had said reminded him of the Louvre’s velvet ropes—elegant, commanding, impossible to ignore. Paris had been a dream spun in brushstrokes and marble, every day a gallery, every night a love letter. Luca had taken me to every museum, every tucked-away atelier, every street mural that made him pause and smile like he was seeing the world for the first time. I’d never known art could feel like devotion.Tonight was the gala. Something formal, something glittering. I was supposed to be thinking about the guest list, the speeches, the way Luca’s hand would find mine in the crowd. But my phone buzzed, and when I saw Gabby’s name, I answered with a grin.“Hey, Missouri girl,” I teased, pinning one last curl behind my ear. “How’s the Midwest treating you?”Gabby’s voice was soft, breathless. “GreenLee… I think I’m falling in love.”I froze, one heel on, one off. “With Rob?”She laughed, but