{GIOVANNI’S POV}**I’ve learned to hide it well, the monster inside me. You don’t grow up as Giovanni fucking D’ Avi without figuring out how to play the angel while keeping the devil locked behind your ribs. To the world, I’m calm, controlled, the charming D’ Avi boy who could talk a priest out of his Bible. But underneath? There’s a part of me that would crush a skull without blinking if it meant protecting… Edmondo.And as I stand outside the Arctic Room, that part of me stirs. Restless and pissed off.The steel door looms in front of me. It's cold and uninviting, like the damn room itself. Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about what’s happening inside. The Arctic Room isn’t meant for people I care about; it’s for scum, traitors, anyone stupid enough to cross us - Il Noce. But today, it’s different.Today, Cara La Rosa is in there.I shouldn’t care. Hell, a part of me doesn’t. She’s a La Rosa, and everything that’s happening to her is because of that cursed bloodline. If her o
{EDMONDO'S POV}**The heavy door creaks open, and the weight of silence falls over the room like a guillotine. I step inside, my boots hitting the concrete with a deliberate rhythm. Each step echoes off the cold, unwelcoming walls.My arctic is supposed to be sacred; a fortress of solitude where silence reigns and whispers dare not tread. But now, it’s polluted. The air feels different, tainted by… these people.I don’t ask what’s going on. That would imply I care. Instead, I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Well,” I say, my tone light, almost amused. “I didn’t know we were hosting a circus tonight. Where’s the clown?” My lips curl into a thin smile, one that holds no warmth, only ice.Every eye turns to me, fear flickering in some, defiance in others. Good. I prefer a mix… it keeps things interesting.Behind me, my shadows file in. First is my consigliere (advisor), his face a perfect mask of neutrality. He’s clever, but I’ve never trusted him. Trust is a lu
{CARA'S POV}**The cold sends shivers down my skin. This is northern Italy and this room… it's not so different from the ‘north pole’ I was chained in. Secondly, I’m wearing white lingerie and not much else.Who cares? There’s no one to see me in this fortress that spells the word ‘Luxurious’ by looks. No one to see me looking this hot. If I were to be home in Sicily, father would frown at the idea of me wearing these. He preferred his daughters looking masculine.I’m virtually alone up here. I always am. Even at home I had my separate apartment from the main La Rosa mansion and I stayed alone compared to my now, late siblings who lived with dad. Agata was his favorite so she never stayed far from him.The vanity table before me brims with all sorts of hairs. Wigs. Makeup sets of various brands, hairpins, the finest of jewelries… but they don’t count. Not to me. They’re just the equipment brought in to make me look perfect .I should be happy, right? Doesn’t everyone want a set of
{CARA'S POV}**I haven’t fully recovered yet.I haven't even begun to process the mess of what's happening. Every bruise still throbs, every word still stings. The fact that I’m here, dressed up like some doll for Edmondo, the Don of the North, makes my stomach churn with disgust. Yet, here I am. I should be trembling with fear, maybe even begging for my life like the others would expect me to. But instead, I feel... numb.Grief. Pure grief. Grief for the life I had, grief for the person I used to be. But there's no time for that. There's no time for grieving anymore. Instead, this is time for dressing up like a fucking prize, a Donna, for some twisted circus of power.This is all about being owned. I’ve been dragged into their web, and I can’t get out.Edmondo. I should’ve known. I should’ve recognized him for what he is, for who he is. The Don. The man who holds all the power in this damn northern Italy, who controls everything and everyone, and here I am; nothing but a pawn.
{EDMONDO'S POV}**“Dio bono! LChësta fameja i à tütc i oci blö (Good God! Everyone in this damn family has blue eyes),” is what anyone would say walking into this room.It’s like some cursed family heirloom we’re all forced to carry. My mother, my sisters Lucia and Francesca, my brothers Giordano, Giorgio, and Enzo; all with those cold, unforgiving blue eyes.Sadly for me, faces blur together. Features slip away like smoke. Ever since the accident six years ago, my vision’s been a cruel trickster. Details disappear. Identities smear into nothing. It's a disability; I can't recognise faces.So I’ve learned to adapt. I don’t recognize people by their faces anymore; I recognize them by the way they move, the habits they don’t even realize they have.Lucia’s to my left, gripping her glass so tight it might shatter. She always holds onto things like that when she’s on the fucking edge. Like if she can choke the tension out of her life which is a foolish lie.Next to her, Francesca taps h
{EDMONDO'S POV}**Trust me, if I ever lie to the world, I wouldn’t to myself.All I want is to hear her say my name. After hearing her call her father’s name like she’s some fucking robot programmed to, I’m jealous.When I chose to capture her days ago, I thought she’d arrive, I’d fuck her, then torture her until she was close to death. After that, I’d slowly kill both her and her precious papá, who, in her eyes, can do no wrong. But now…Everything’s changed.Now, all I want is to delve into her mind. To learn how a woman so young and shrouded in the darkness of our world can be so…innocent. Yes, surviving in our world as syndicates hasn’t been kind to many of us. But in her short life, she’s far too fragile at heart compared to her rough, scarred body.I hope she finds the picture of her sister, Agata, in the glassy clothes cupboard. I wanted to tell her everything I know about her fucking dipshit of a father, bu
{Edmondo’s POV}**"Ensure nothing leaves that corridor," I say, my tone deliberate and sharp. "No rumors, no whispers, no shadows. If anyone so much as breathes differently—""I'll handle it," Giovanni interrupts, nodding once.For a moment, I let the silence stretch. I study him; faint lines etched around his mouth, the tension in his jaw. Loyalty is one thing; trust is another."Good," I finally say, leaning back in my chair. "Go. I expect updates by tomorrow on the La Rosas."He hesitates, fingers brushing the edge of the desk. "Are you sure about…" He trails off, leaving the question incomplete, dangling in the thick air.I narrow my eyes. "If you have doubts, Giovanni, fucking speak now."He clears his throat, straightening. "No doubts. Just confirming we're clear on the objectives.""Crystal clear," I reply, the coldness in my voice ending the conversation.With a final nod, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence follows.I lean back in my chair, my la
{CARA'S POV}**“Huh?” I raise my brow in utter disbelief of what I'm seeing in the fragile paper between my fingers. It is a prescription slip from a doctor. It's harmless at a glance, but at the bottom, scrawled in precise, deliberate letters, is the name: Edmondo D’ Avi.My stomach churns. This prescription slip feels like a key to a locked door. A secret door meant to be hidden from every eye, yet I don’t know if I want to open it. What's really going on with Edmondo? Is he sick? Sick, that he had to see an optician?The sharp creak of the door snapping open wrenches me out of my thoughts.And there he is.Edmondo.He strides in, his movements deliberate, his tailored suit framing the menace he exudes. His presence transforms the room into a cage. The air feels colder, sharper, as his icy gaze locks onto the paper in my hand. He doesn’t speak at first. He doesn’t need to.With two steps, he closes the distance between us. His hand darts out, snatching the paper from me before I
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I slam the door behind me as I walk into my study. I feel the tension in my body, the way the air seems thick with the pressure that has been building up in my skull for hours. My head is pounding like a motherfucker. It's a constant, mind-numbing rhythm that doesn’t stop. It’s like there’s a hammer inside, banging away, relentless and unforgiving.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse to myself, my voice low and ragged. My eyes burn, sore and raw from whatever the hell is happening to me. I feel like I’m losing my grip on everything… everything.I drop into the chair behind my desk, burying my face in my hands. I'm trying to steady my breathing. But it’s no use. The dizziness, the blur of faces; it’s getting worse.The men who followed me in those two SUVs; those faces, their fucking faces... they’re gone. No, not gone. Blank. Like someone erased them from existence.
{EDMONDO'S POV}**My father’s eyes narrow as he leans back in his seat, the leather groaning under his weight. He adjusts his tie with slow precision, as if trying to keep the words boiling inside him from spilling out. But eventually, he let loose.“Edmondo, can you just… fuck’s sake, he’s your brother. Okay? No matter what, he’s your goddamn brother,” he snap, his voice edging with frustration.I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “My brother? My fucking brother?” I lean forward to growl. “You fucking know what he did. Or are you going senile, old man? Giordano wouldn’t have been able to flee without me knowing… unless someone good helped him. And, hell, I can as well track him down. Let’s get that shit straight.”Father rubs his temples. He's visibly irritated. “I know you, Edmundo,” he says, his voice going softer but still carrying that weight of authority. “I gave birth to you. You’re my son. It’s my fuc
{EDMONDO’S POV}**The door shuts behind me with a soft click, and I finally exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. The tension of that moment still clings to me, but at least it’s over. For now. I told her the truth, or at least most of it. Fuck, I hope she doesn’t dig deeper. She’s smart, too fucking smart for her own good, and if she finds out everything before I’m ready to tell her…I shake the thought from my head as Donatello falls into step beside me. He looks at me like he’s been waiting for something. His silence grates on my nerves.“Christ, Donnie, you couldn’t have waited five goddamn minutes?” I growl, keeping my voice low but sharp.“You seemed busy,” he says without apology, his tone deadpan. “But it couldn’t wait. Your father’s back. He wants to see you.”That stops me cold. My father. That bastard. “He’s back already? What the fuck? You just brought word that he was
{CARA'S POV}**No wonder the bitch, Agata, always traveled, saying she was going to do Papà's bidding. She came instead to the North to fuck with Edmondo.No wonder she had me make that swimsuit for her. Even Papà was against us wearing such things that'd make us qualified as ladies. The bitch wanted Edmondo to fuck her in that attire. Or did they go on a swimming vacation?No wonder she came to me most times with shoes, make-ups, revealing clothes. It was all Edmondo gave her. She couldn't hide it because she stays with Papà in the estate so, she brought it to me, who stayed far away from them.Bitch!!!!Dead bitch!!!!Why was I angry at her though? It's not a crime to be discreet or… to fall in… wait, did she fall in love with Edmondo? Edmundo’s soften voice that sounds like twisted kind of tenderness breaks my thoughts. “He blamed me for it. But the truth, Cara... the truth is, your father ma
{CARA'S POV}**Everything is starting to fall into place. The chaos in my mind is organizing itself into something coherent. It’s not even a puzzle anymore; it’s laid out before me, clear and undeniable. A platter of gold, served cold and ruthless.I think back to that day; my father’s words, his tone. He hadn’t talked about sending me abroad or finding a way for me to escape. He’d said something else, something that now feels like a confession I missed entirely.“You need to go, Cara,” he’d said.At the time, I thought he was trying to protect me. Push me away from the violence of his world. But now…now I see it differently. You need to go. It wasn’t protection. It was a deal.He wasn’t saving me. He was selling me.The realization slams into me with brutal clarity. In the mafia world, business always comes before blood. Loyalty to the cause is worth more than family. My father didn’t see
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I don’t answer right away. Instead, I hold her tighter, letting the intensity of the moment pull us deeper into something neither of us can avoid. Her face is a canvas of emotions; shock, disbelief, and something else I can’t quite place. Fear, perhaps. She doesn’t say a word. But her silence screams louder than any accusation ever could. I don’t stop. She needs to hear this, no matter how much it hurts. “I couldn’t save her,” I begin, my voice calm. “Agata wasn’t just a woman. She was everything; the embodiment of ferocity in a world that feeds on corruption. Just perfect for it. And when I heard about her committing suicide, it felt like I lost the only thing that made sense in reality.” Her lips part as if to speak, but she stays silent. Her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. I move my hand from her naked curve to her
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I look at her, Cara; her eyes are wide, intense. As if she’s waiting for the truth to break her. But the truth has always been the one thing I can’t lie about. And especially not to her.“That’s not all, Cara,” I say, my voice low and purposeful. “The same way your sister wasn’t innocent, the rest of your family wasn’t. Especially your father.”Her eyes flash with a fury that burns brighter than I expect. “You dare not talk about Papà, Edmondo. You dare not say a word about him,” she spits. Her voice trembles with anger.I move closer to her there on the bed. My own pulse is steady but I feel her anger ripple through the room like a storm. “I only dare not lie to you because I promised you the truth,” I say, keeping my tone firm. “And do not point that finger at me, Amora (love). I’ll chop it off before you ever get the chance to use it.”Her breath catches in her throat, and for a mome
{CARA'S POV}**I can barely breathe. The air in the room feels thick and suffocating. As if every word Edmondo says is wrapping itself around my throat, choking me. I sit there on the bed, naked and exposed, though it feels like the least vulnerable part of me. His presence towers over me, dominant. My skin prickles as he steps closer, his scent; dark, masculine, blueberries and far too familiar, fills my senses.“You want the truth, Cara?” His voice is rough. Like gravel scraping against bone. His eyes lock onto mine, intense. As if he can see every piece of me I’m trying to keep hidden. “You won’t like it. Hell, I’m not even sure I can stomach saying it, but you need to hear it.”I don’t respond. I can’t. The words are stuck in my throat, tangled with the confusion and hurt that have been twisting inside me since the moment I was brought in here. He isn’t the man I thought he was.
{EDMONDO’S POV}**“Cover up,” I order. I’m back to being cold again. It’s for a good purpose. It’s so we both, me especially, don’t get distracted. “You’re not off the hook yet.”But her voice cuts through my coldness, raw and jagged. “And then what? Just leave?”Cara sits up on the bed, trembling, her wild eyes locking onto mine. The sight of her; the flushed face, wet hair plastered to her cheeks, and the faint tremor in her lips… it all hits me like a sledgehammer.She throws her words at me sharply and doesn’t relent. “You just walk away like it’s none of your concern? All the damn time. Like you have nothing to do with me? Like I’m nothing?”I stiffen. My jaw clenches and so does my fist.But she isn’t done.“Speak to me, Edmondo!” she shouts, her voice breaking. And then… God help me, she starts crying. Her tears fall in streams as she shakes her head. Her whole body trembles.This isn’t the