LOGINAt the tea party that afternoon, Luca Fazzari met Holly Hopkins, and ever since then, she has been on his mind. Luca avoided her like the plague because he knew they were doomed to never be together. He worries that Holly will be hurt if she is exposed to the harsh realities of his world. But fate has different ideas and continues reuniting them. Will Luca's one night of giving in satisfy him or make him want her even more?
View MoreHOLLYThe estate was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against the skin and made every breath feel heavier. Giovanni had summoned me again, but this time Luca was with me. He had returned from his business trip, his eyes sharper, his presence grounding.We walked together through the winding paths of Giovanni’s gardens, past marble statues and ancient oaks, until the air shifted. Ahead, nestled in a secluded corner of the estate, were two graves.I froze.The names carved into the stone were ones I had carried in my heart all my life.My mother. My father.I had visited my mother’s grave in the United States once, years ago. I remembered the flowers, the stone, the emptiness. Because that grave had been empty. Her remains were not there.And now, here they were.Her name etched into marble, beside my father’s. His death had followed hers, a shadow chasing light.I felt my chest tighten, my breath catch. Luca’s hand brushed mine, steady, grounding.Giovanni stood nearby, his eyes
HOLLYA week had passed since the dinner. A week since Adelina’s banishment, since Giovanni’s judgment, since the silence of the families had sealed her fate.I thought the storm had ended. But storms have a way of lingering.That morning, a message arrived — simple, unadorned, bearing Giovanni’s seal. Come for tea.No explanation. No reason. Just an invitation.Luca was out of town on business, buried in transactions and empire. Bianca and Giulia were occupied elsewhere. I was alone when I stepped through the gates of Giovanni’s estate.The place was unnervingly quiet.No servants bustled through the halls. No clinking of dishes, no murmured voices. Only silence.The guards were stationed outside, their faces carved from stone, their eyes fixed on the horizon. None were allowed inside.It was as if the estate itself had been emptied, stripped of life, waiting for something.I followed the path to the backyard, where Giovanni sat at a small table beneath the shade of an ancient oak.On
HOLLYThe invitation had arrived with Giovanni’s seal, heavy with expectation. A “special dinner,” he called it — a gathering of all the rival families under one roof. Mutual ground. A place where bloodshed was forbidden, where civility was demanded, where masks were worn more tightly than crowns.I knew what it meant. I knew what Giovanni was doing. And I knew Adelina would be waiting.I knew the rules before I even set foot here. I found my father’s old book accidentally while putting away my mother’s things many years ago.The mafia families lived by rules older than stone. At these dinners, no family could strike another. No blade, no bullet, no fire. It was the only way to keep peace, however fragile.But there was one exception. One secret clause whispered only among the old guard: if a guest — someone outside the families — struck, only the target could respond. No one else.It was a loophole. A trap. A stage.The hall was gilded in gold and shadow, chandeliers glittering above
ADELINAThe fires had been mine. Holly’s tea shop, Juliet’s home — both reduced to ash by my hand. I had wanted her broken, stripped of her illusions, desperate to cling to Luca for safety. Instead, she had begun striking back in silence, dismantling me piece by piece.Spoiled fruit. Stale tea. Humiliation at the boutique. Mirrors gone from my walls. A scorched teacup delivered to my gates.Each move was deliberate, precise, and it was driving me mad.I needed counsel. Not Luca — he was buried in his empire, unreachable. Not my staff — they were useless, trembling at every flicker of light.Giovanni. The old man. He had always been a pillar, a relic of power, a voice that carried weight even when he barely spoke.If anyone could steady me, it was him.I arrived at his villa in the late afternoon, the sun bleeding into the horizon, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Giovanni sat in his study, a glass of brandy in his hand, his eyes fixed on the fire crackling in the hearth.












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