Vito Basso

"You’re just too old to handle me,” I spat in fury. “That’s why you won’t f*ck me.” His eyes turned feral. “What did you just say?” he growled, stepping closer. My breath hitched, and heat pooled between my legs. “I said you're old—and not man enough.” He grabbed my chin, lips inches from mine. “Baby girl, when I’m done with you, you’ll beg this 'old man' to stop. You won’t just know I’m man enough—you’ll feel it in every inch of your sore, trembling body.” ***** At 40, architect Lorenzo De Vito has built a life of discipline and control—until 23-year-old Emily Ross steps into his world. She's bold, ambitious, and irresistible, awakening desires he buried long ago. Lorenzo knows she's off-limits, a risk to his career and reputation, but her teasing smiles and undeniable chemistry make her impossible to resist. As the tension between them ignites, the line between control and surrender begins to blur. Will he resist the temptation or risk it all for the one woman he shouldn’t want?

At the afterparty, my daughter, Mia Volpe, suffers from a sudden asthma attack. She collapses to the carpeted floor and goes through a seizure on the spot. But my Capo husband, Lorenzo Volpe, wraps an arm around his secretary, Sophia Bianchi, while watching Mia suffer before his eyes. Sophia had once shown him a forged paternity test of Mia and him. As such, he firmly believes that Mia is the bastard child of me and a Soldato. When Mia tries to reach out for Lorenzo, her complexion already bluish-purple from suffocation, he merely averts his gaze with a disgusted look on his face. "Daddy… S-Save… me…" I look everywhere for Mia's inhaler like a madwoman, only to realize that it's already empty. Sophia covers her mouth while tittering softly. "Dear me, Mia sure has an affinity for acting! Elena, I can't believe you and your daughter are willing to go to such lengths just to get Lorenzo to pay attention to you! "Since Mia likes acting that much, she might as well make the performance perfect." She lifts a high-heeled foot before crushing Mia's fingers, which were attempting to curl around Lorenzo's pant leg. Poor Mia was in so much pain, yet she couldn't let out a single sound. All she could do was scream silently into the void with her mouth wide open. I kneeled on the floor, my forehead already bleeding from smashing it against the floor repeatedly. "Lorenzo Volpe, Mia is your flesh and blood! Please, I'm begging you! Give me some medicine or call a doctor!" But Lorenzo just looks at me coldly, as though he's looking at trash. "A bastard like her is better off dead. Elena Corleone, stop using such underhanded methods to spoil everyone's mood." At that moment, what little love I still harbor for this man completely dissipates as I feel Mia's heartbeat gradually weaken. I no longer beg him for help. With trembling hands, I press the button on the emergency transmitter that I've sworn I'd never touch. That transmitter is the direct line to the highest authority in Smeraldia—my father, Don Vito Corleone.