Novels by Nana A

Riccardo knew when Camilla was hiding something.She didn’t flinch. Didn’t stammer. Didn’t give herself away in any obvious way.But her silence stretched longer. Her gaze was too precise. And she held her wine glass like a weapon instead of a comfort.By morning, he’d already dispatched two of his men to scan every CCTV feed from Pier 41, every phone signal in the area, every dock worker who hadn’t clocked in.She hadn’t told him where she’d gone last night—but he knew.She’d gone to face something that wasn’t meant to be faced alone.And that? That infuriated him.Still, when she entered the dining hall, dressed in ivory silk like nothing had happened, he said nothing. Just watched.Camilla met his gaze calmly.“We need to talk,” she said.“I’m listening.”She sat across from him, every movement deliberate.“I need more control.”His brow lifted. “You already have more control than anyone has ever dared ask me for.”“I need access, Riccardo. Not just a seat at your table. I want ful

Camilla didn’t believe in ghosts.Not the kind that drifted through walls or whispered through shadows.But the kind that wore familiar faces and walked back into your life when you were just starting to breathe again?Yeah. She believed in those.It started with a phone call.She found the burner phone in the drawer of her new desk, tucked away beneath stacks of contracts and security logs. It wasn’t hers. And it hadn’t rung in days.But today, it did.Once.Then again.And again.Three rings. No caller ID.She answered it on the fourth, already tense.“…Hello?”The voice on the other end froze her blood.“Still answering strange phones, Ari?”Her chest locked.It had been four years since she’d heard that voice—smooth, mocking, soaked in charm and poison.Elias.She didn’t speak right away. Her pulse thundered in her ears.“I guess you haven’t changed,” he said. “But then again, neither have I.”Her voice came out clipped. “What do you want?”“To see you, of course. Don’t worry—I’m

The morning after their quiet wedding, Camilla woke to the sound of voices outside the bedroom door.She lay still for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through the thick curtains. The bed was empty beside her. Riccardo was already gone.Of course he was.Marriage to him didn’t come with breakfast in bed or whispered promises. It came with war councils and cold strategy. And today, Camilla would be introduced to the battlefield.When she stepped into the hallway, Luca was waiting.He gave her a once-over and nodded approvingly. “You clean up well.”Camilla wore a sleek black pantsuit, her hair pulled back in a tight braid. Her posture screamed control—even if she wasn’t sure she felt it.“Where is he?” she asked.“Downstairs. With the inner circle.”Her pulse spiked. She hadn’t met all of them yet—Riccardo’s closest allies, the men and women who held influence in every dark corner of the city. Most of them, she was sure, hated her already.She followed Luca t

Camilla didn’t sleep that night. She sat by the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds, her thoughts a tangled web of questions, doubts, and whispered what-ifs.Riccardo’s proposal was madness—but it was the kind of madness that made dangerous sense.Marriage. Power. Safety.But at what cost?By morning, the air felt heavier. The mansion moved like a beast waking from slumber—guards pacing, staff whispering, Luca watching. Always watching.By noon, Camilla made up her mind.If she was going to play this game, she was going to play it on her terms.She didn’t want safety. She wanted leverage.Riccardo was in the study when she entered. As always, he looked in control—seated behind a massive mahogany desk, sleeves rolled up, fingers steepled. He didn’t look up when she walked in.“I take it you’ve come to accept the offer,” he said smoothly, without preamble.“I’ve come to negotiate,” Camilla replied.That made him glance up.There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Respect, ma

Camilla slammed the door behind her, the echo cracking through the hallway like thunder. Her hands were shaking, her breath short. Every inch of her screamed to fight, to scream, to tear something apart. But she forced herself to stay quiet. Rage would get her nowhere—not in Riccardo Falcone’s world.She needed a plan.Storming down the hallway, she passed staff who bowed their heads or averted their eyes, as though her presence was an unspoken stain on the perfection of this mansion. She was a guest here, yes—but a guest in a gilded cage.Back in her room, she paced like a trapped animal. Riccardo wanted her to break. That was the game, wasn’t it? Slowly wear her down until she accepted her fate. She refused to be another one of his possessions—another debt collected.A knock on her door made her freeze.“What now?” she muttered.Luca stepped in without waiting for a response. He held something in his hand—an envelope, sealed in deep red wax with the Falcone crest stamped on the fron

The door to her room clicked shut behind her with a soft but final sound. Camilla stood motionless for a moment, her heart still racing from the conversation with Riccardo. The weight of his words lingered in the air like smoke—thick and suffocating.The room was lavish, as expected, with a king-sized bed draped in dark velvet, an intricately carved wooden wardrobe, and an oversized desk with a leather chair. But it felt cold, unwelcoming. It was as though everything in the room, even the heavy curtains blocking out the natural light, was designed to isolate her. To make her feel as though she belonged nowhere.She walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to look out at the sprawling mansion grounds. The view was breathtaking, the gardens stretching out beneath the starlit sky. But the beauty of it was lost on her. All she could think of was the cold, calculated man who had orchestrated all of this. The man who believed he had the right to decide her future.Camilla gritt