Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed By The Five Mafia Brothers : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

ARIA POV8:00pm.The library door is already unlocked when I get there.Luca is inside. Leaning against the same desk, hands in his pockets. Tie gone. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looks like he did at dinner, like he did in the photo, like he did when the whole world was dissecting us. Tired.He hears me and looks up. “You came.”“You texted,” I say. I close the door behind me. Lock it. Click.That sound again. Safer than anything else in this house.For a minute we don’t talk. We just breathe. The candles from dinner are still in my hair, and his cedar is in the air, and for 26 minutes at dinner we almost lost it.“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “For the foot thing. For almost—”“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t apologize for touching me. That’s the only real thing that happened today.”He nods. Once. “Did she say anything else after I left?”“Just that I’m bad at lying,” I say. “And that the next 48 hours will be hell.”Luca exhales. Runs a hand over his face. “She’s right about on

ARIA POV3:17am.I’m not asleep. I haven’t been since 8:55pm.Victoria was in my room. In my mom’s robe. Touching my things and saying _Milan. 6am. You and me._The hair tie is in my fist again. Blue. Worn soft.My door is locked, twice. And still, I hear it. A click. Soft, careful.3:18am.The door opens.I sit up fast, heart in my throat.Luca. Black hoodie, sweatpants, bare feet. Hair messy like he ran his hands through it. He looks guilty and tired and exactly like the person I need to see.“Don’t scream,” he whispers. “Please.”I don’t. I just stare. “What are you doing?”“Checking the locks,” he says, but he’s already closing the door behind him, locking it. “Making sure she didn’t come back.”“She’s in the guest wing,” I say. “Down the hall.”“I know.” He crosses the room and sits on the floor next to my bed. Not on it. On the floor, like he doesn’t deserve the mattress.“I just... couldn’t sleep.”“Neither could I.”Silence. The house is quiet. No staff, no cameras in here. Ju

ARIA POV10:00am. Milan.The room was too white. White walls, white chairs, and a banner in gold that read _MORETTI x CARUSO TOUR_. Cameras lined the walls, 200 journalists filled the seats, and the air smelled like coffee, perfume, and lies.I stood backstage in a black dress, my hair pulled into a low ponytail. The blue hair tie was in my pocket, twisted around my fingers until my knuckles went white.Victoria stood in white, again. Her hand was locked around Luca’s arm like she already owned him. He looked like he hadn’t slept. There were shadows under his eyes, and his jaw was tight. Because of 3:30am. Because of me.The PR woman hissed in my ear, “Remember, smile, hold hands, look in love. We go live in 60 seconds.”Luca nodded, but he didn’t look at me.Victoria caught me staring and smiled, too wide. “Aria! Come stand with us. Family photo.”Family. The word made me sick.10:02am.We walked out, and the flashes hit like gunfire.Victoria immediately laced her fingers through Lu

ARIA POV6:00pm. Milan.The hotel lobby is all glass and gold, Too bright. Too loud.I’m dragging my suitcase behind me with one hand and clutching my phone in the other, Isabella texted from the airport 2 hours ago: _Don’t be alone. Not for one second. The brothers are with you._The brothers.Luca is waiting by the front desk. Black suit. No tie. Hair damp. Behind him, by the glass doors, are Enzo and Dante. Both in black, both scanning the lobby like they expect a hit.Nico texted me 10 minutes ago: _On the roof. Eyes on everything._Marco’s not here. He’s 3 floors up in a suite, tracking Caruso’s money moves.They came because Caruso blocked every hotel in a 5 block radius. “Corporate event.” And because Isabella called Enzo from the jet and said if anything happens to Aria, Caruso dies tonight.So now they’re all here.“Aria.” Luca’s voice is low when he sees me.“Enzo said one room,” he says before I can speak. “Two beds. I told him we needed two. He said it was booked.”My stom

LUCA POV9:00pm. Milan.The hotel suite is too quiet.Enzo is on the couch scrolling through security feeds. Dante’s by the window, watching the street. Nico texted 10 minutes ago: _Everything clear. No tails. Hotel’s clean._Good.This trip was supposed to be peaceful. A “vacation.” A PR move.Victoria wanted the photos. The dinners. The headlines: _Caruso + Moretti united._And Aria is here too. Because she’s “family on paper.” Because Victoria insisted.I hate it.My phone buzzes.Aria: _You alive?_I exhale.Me: _Yeah. I’m good._Me: _You?_Aria: _Can’t sleep. The hotel feels weird._Aria: _Miss you._Fuck.I look across the suite. Victoria’s door is closed. She’s been in there since the rooftop dinner. Emerald dress hung up. Diamond choker on the dresser. Playing the perfect wife for the cameras.“Smile,” she’d whispered. “The press is eating this up.”I’d smiled. It didn’t reach my eyes.9:10pm.Enzo glances up. “Marco called.”“What did he say?”“About Isabella Vale.”My stomac