{EDMONDO'S POV} * * The lamp flickers faintly on my desk. It casts uneven shadows over the papers I’ve spread out. Not that it matters. The words are turning into a blur. Have been for days now. I lean back in the chair. My fingers press to my temples, willing the pounding in my head to easen. It doesn’t. It never does. Marco’s already gone to fetch Giovanni. He knows the drill by now; Giovanni’s the only one I trust with important issues pertaining to my life. And I hate that. I hate that I’ve reached the point in life where trust feels more like dependence. Dependency. It's literally the case now because aside Giovanni, no one knows about my flaw and no one should. I rub a hand over my face, dragging it down to my chin. The meeting with the Cosa Nostras is just in three hours, and I’m barely holding all this shit together. No longer my eyes, my brain betrays me now. What's sad is that it's not just the vision anymore. It’s worse than that. My fucking b
{EDMONDO'S POV}**The air is thick and of course, heavy with tension. It's always thick and heavy when it comes to the things of the underworld.Giovanni and I step into the room and the silence swallows us whole. This is no ordinary gathering. It’s the Cosa Nostras; mafia families from all over Italy, each with their own power and their own stakes. The Gambinos from Sicily, the biggest name in the South, are here amongst other dominant famiglias in the South. Dons from the East, the heart of the world's mafia kingdom are here as well. Famiglias from the West, from the deep corners of Southern Italy, and even the ragtag groups that found their place in some corners of Italy.We don’t need to speak. The moment we enter, all eyes fall on us. Giovanni doesn’t need to give much of a sign. A simple gesture, and I understand. I already know what this is about. They think they have po
{EDMONDO'S POV}**When I get close, I turn away.I walk past her, keeping my gaze straight ahead. I can smell it before I even see her; blueberries. That fucking scent. My fucking scent. On her, it's sweet. Tempting. And it claws at me, like it knows the hold it has. Cara. Her presence is like an itch I can’t scratch. And I fucking hate it. She stands there, glowing under the full moon. Her hair shines underneath the moon like some goddamn fairy-tale red. She's practically radiating like she’s the fucking center of the universe.But I don’t stop. I try not to flinch. I’m not letting her weaken me. Not now. Not ever. If I stop, if I let myself acknowledge her, I might slip. Might give a damn. And I can’t afford to do that. Not with the mess I’m dealing with. Not with her father that I have to kill. That sorry-ass bastard has it coming, and I’m going to make sure he get
{CARA'S POV}**“I don’t get it. I really don’t.”I’m sitting with Porcelina, trying to wrap my head around the mess. We’re in the corner of a dimly lit room, the flicker of candles casting shadows across the walls. The place smells like wood, leather, and a bit of smoke, which doesn’t bother me anymore. It’s just the way things are now. “So, this guy my friend’s been dealing with.. he gave her all the right signals, you know? Green flags, like he's totally into her, making her feel special. Then, boom! He just turns on her. Tells her to get lost. After everything. Doesn’t that feel wrong to you?” I say. My voice is a little too sharp and it's obvious I'm frustrated.Porcelina arches an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. She’s always got this air about her, like she knows things the rest of us don’t. “Are you sure he actually gave her green flags? What if he was just playing her? Using her to get somet
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I’m sick. Sick of the damn reports. Sick of the lies. And sick of her. Every damn day, I feel it creeping in; questions that claw at my insides. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come back? Is she fine? Has she eaten? Hope mother isn't making her feel unwelcomed? What is she up to currently?Is she on her way here?Is she outside my estate gate?Should I send a message?Maybe an order to bring her back?Damn, I'd told myself she’d return after I shooed her that night. I’d told myself she wouldn’t give up. But no. No, she didn't. A week has passed, and not a damn word. A week and four days since I last saw her, a week and four days of wondering if I made the right call by telling her to get lost. Wait. Hold on. Am I missing Cara?Shit.Fuck, anyway, I kept an eye on her through my men and the
{CARA'S POV}**I slip out of the room as quietly as possible, though my movements are deliberate and cautious. The place is silent. Everyone is deep in sleep. The darkness is swallowing everything whole. There’s a heavy weight on my shoulders, a feeling. It's a feeling that something.. or someone.. is watching, waiting for me to slip up. I stop by the dining table, glancing around. My pulse quicken. And there she is. Madre Padrina.She doesn’t say a word. Just watches me. Her eyes carry the kind of weight that makes my insides tighten. There’s a knowledge there, a wisdom… or maybe just the weight of secrets I’m not privy to yet. I brace myself, ready for whatever’s coming. But instead of questioning me right away, she simply speaks.“You’re going out, I see.” Her voice is calm and smooth like she’s asking about something as casual as the weather. But I know it’s a test. It always is
{CARA'S POV}**“I beg you, Edmondo. Please. Please have mercy.”I’m on my knees. Begging. “Please, Edmondo, I beg you.. don’t, don’t do this,” The words tumble out, desperate, weak. But I can’t stop myself. I feel the cold floor beneath me and I inhale the smell of urine spoiling in the air; Pietro’s piss, I’m sure of it. He must have pissed on himself out of fear.He’s standing there. Edmondo. His shadow is long and dark behind him, cutting through the dim light. I can feel the heat radiating from him. It's a smoldering, red-hot anger curling around us. I don’t know how much longer Pietro’s going to last under Edmondo’s gun. The barrel’s pressed against his head, and I can practically hear the blood pumping in Pietro’s temples. One wrong move. One slip from me. And I’m sure Edmondo would pull the trigger, ending him right here. I don’t think he’s bluffing. I’ve seen it be
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I’m sitting in my study, my eyes fixed on the computer screen, but my mind is elsewhere. The hallway is quiet, lit only by the dim light flickering from above. The silence makes everything feel worse. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle from the rooms nearby is sharp against the stillness.And then I see her. Cara.She comes out of my room. Completely naked. As I had commanded. It's just her damn fiery red hair cascading down her back that she has on. My breath hitches in my chest.But I don't let it show. I sit back in my chair, staring at her for a long moment from my computer. She doesn’t know I’m watching, but I am. And there’s something about that; her walking out like she owns the damn place… it pisses me off and gets me turned on at the same time.I stand up slowly.I walk toward the door of my study. My footsteps are soundless like
{LUIGI’S POV}**You don’t crawl back to Edmondo D’ Avi. Not after you’ve fucked up like I did. And definitely not unless you’ve got a death wish.I lurk in the shadows now, watching him from a distance like some pathetic ghost. I don’t deserve to stand in his light anymore, not after the shitstorm I brought down on him with Massimo. But I still love him. I’d still kill for him. Maybe one day I’ll even die for him. That’s all I’ve got left to offer; a loyalty he doesn’t even fucking know is still here.The tunnel’s cold and damp. This is the kind of place where rats thrive and bodies disappear. I blend into the dark like a goddamn phantom, watching Edmondo square off with the Irish Consigliere.Donnelly.I’ve heard his name whispered in back rooms and barrooms. The Irish Consigliere is a legend. A man with a silver tongue and an iron fist. He’s sharp as a switchblade and
{EDMONDO'S POV} * * The bastard’s trying to rile me up. And it’s working. My hand itches to reach for my knife. But I hold back. Not yet. Not here. He surely didn't come here to hug but to attack. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” I say, my voice is low and cutting. “But balls won’t save you when you’re six feet under.” “Ah, but I’ve no intention of being buried tonight,” he replies, his smile fading as his eyes harden. “I came here to talk.” Talk? “Talk?” I spit the word out like it tastes bad. “The Irish don’t talk. You threaten, you scheme, and you stab people in the back. So, cut the bullshit and tell me why you’re really here.” Donnelly shrugs. His movements are quite slow. Slow like a poison but delib
{EDMONDO’S POV} * * If there's anything I hate about myself, it's the lack of patience towards bastards. I hate chasing ghosts. The Irish Consigliere; a slippery bastard, is the kind of problem I like to solve immediately… with a bullet. Fast, simple, no bullshit. But here I am, trudging through this piss-soaked tunnel, hunting him down because my men couldn’t catch him outright. The underground reeks of rot, mildew, and something worse. Darkness. They all cling to my suit like a second skin. This isn’t where a man like me: The Don belongs, no, I should be sitting in the estate, drinking my scotch and celebrating the little blocks I've set for the empire I'm building. But ghosts don’t respect empires. They sneak in, lurk and poke around, and see how much they can steal before they vanish. And this ghost? I’ll make sure he vanis
{GIOVANNI’S POV}**So, I left her.It wasn’t like I didn’t have a choice. I could’ve stayed back with her. Hell, a part of me wanted to. But I just... I just walked away.She knew my name, but I didn’t bother learning hers. Why would I? She was just a kid. Well, legal, barely 18, so no problem there, right? That’s how it goes. First time, one time. No strings, no complications.She wasn’t special. To me, she was just another warm body in a long, forgettable list of bitches. Names? Faces? They didn’t matter when you lived a shitty life as mine. So, in summary, thanks to my shitty life, I took what I wanted. When I wanted. And moved on.But damn. There was something about her.Not love or anything stupid like that; let’s not get carried away. But there was this way she looked at me, like she saw past the bullshit. Like she could strip me down to nothing with just her eyes.It pissed me of
{INGRID'S POV} * * Sharp, threatening voices wake me up the next morning. I stir from my sleep, waking up in a heap on the floor. I must have rolled over from the mat. My bones are aching from the position I slept in still, and I realize I must have fallen asleep sometime during the night. Wait. Hold up. I feel somewhere else too. Oh…yeah. Uncle. Uncle and I had sex. What's that pain? I look up to my wrists. The bind. The bind have rubbed my skin raw and my sleeping arrangement made my whole body sore and tense the more. Why didn't he take off the bind? But the most important thing right now are the voices. I hear them out in the hallway, deep and unfamiliar. And I think they're coming towards… here. I crawl into the corner of the room and pull up Mr. Giovanni's leather coat. He must have left it here after we…, probabl
{INGRID'S POV}**“Put your hands above your head,” he tells me.I do, looking into his eyes as I obey.My mind turns to the first time I saw him when I awoke in here. I can practically feel his hands on me as he holds me down, the intense powerlessness I felt at their touch.I breathe deeply, calming the emotions that race through me at the thought.I feel his hands on my wrists, pushing them together. The tie slides around them, the same fabric as before caressing my sensitive skin. I feel as it begins to tighten and look up to watch.He binds my wrists tightly, securing them with practiced hands.I give them a tug, experimenting with the length. The constraint leaves me feeling utterly powerless, and I wonder at the spark that spreads through me at the thought of it.I turn to find his eyes. They pierce me in question.I answer with my own, my chest heaving in anticipation. I
{INGRID'S POV}**His touch sends fire racing through my skin. Sparks burn through me in a high blaze.Every touch of his fingers, every flick of his tongue, and I’m burning up and I can’t find it in me to care.I never knew that anything could be as intense as the pleasure racing through me now. One moment I’m unthinking, lost in it completely. The next I’m so overwhelmed, I feel the need to run away.How much can I possibly take?No one’s ever touched me the way Mr. Giovanni is now. No one has ever looked at me with the fire presently burning through his brown eyes. I feel ready to collapse under that gaze.This man is more than I ever thought a person capable of being. With every movement, with every touch, he’s showing me that I am not alone.Loneliness has always been my phobia, my hate.. but Mr. Giovanni.. no, Uncle is telling me, showing me that I'm not alone now.I scream ‘Un
{GIOVANNI'S POV}**“That was a stupid move, bambina (little girl). A bloody stupid move,” I say, not knowing what else to say or how to just get her in there and pull away and end this cat and mouse rubbish.Though, I want to be with her. That's why I left Edmondo and came here.I want to finish what we’ve just started too.She looks at me with rage and fear all over her face and demeanor. “Just let me go. I owe you nothing and all you want to do is take advantage of me.”She looks at me, daring me to say the truth. She knows it, and I know it. We’re walking the faint line between lust and abomination. I knew from the moment I set eyes on her, loosing her cool and yelling for someone to save her sister, that she was going to be different and nice to own.This is lust. Compared to love… this… lust… It’s a lot more complicated than I ever would’ve thought. I pull
{INGRID'S POV}**The tension in the air is really palpable. The atmosphere is electric. I want him to touch me. I want him to do bad things to me. And I know it's so damn wrong, but I just can't resist. He's done something to me, definitely. He has messed with my head and played with my heart. All on the first day.It's like I'm the puppet and he's pulling on every one of my strings.He's breathing heavily, and he gently pushes down my panties until my hip bones poke out. I hiss as the air hits my skin. Mr. Giovanni groans when his fingers connect with my feverish body. "God," he says. "So fucking delicious. So damn wrong. I can't resist. I'm sorry, bambina, but I'm not even going to try to resist."With that, his fingers push off my white lacy panties and I arch my back, helping him along. What the hell am I doing? I don't even know him!Alarm bells are going off in my