I can’t tell how long we’ve been staring into each other’s eyes or how long I’ve been holding my breath, but when he moves back, I let out a long sigh of relief. His eyes move from mine to my lips and then back to my eyes, and he smirks.
“You were wrong to say you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispers, his voice low yet dangerous. “You should be.” He removes his hand from my waist and grabs my wrist.
“You challenged me and my power, and no one does that. No one still alive, that is.” The moment he says that, fear floods my veins, and the little confidence I had earlier vanishes.
He starts dragging me toward a van parked nearby, his grip on my arm very firm.
“You threatened me with the FBI and thought you could get away with it?” he shouts, and I know this is it for me. All my sins have caught up with me, and today is the day I die.
I knew he was going to make me pay for that
My mind is racing with a million thoughts as I press the cotton ball gently against Raul’s nose. I can feel his eyes on me, and I wonder if he, too, is trying to find some resemblance between me and my father like I did. My mom always said I had my father’s eyes, and it just so happens that Raul and I share the same eye color. It's a good thing my nursing training always has me equipped with everything I need for first aid. I try to keep my hands steady, as the familiarity of this action gives me a strange sense of calm, even though my mind is swirling with confusion and disbelief. I am still struggling to look at him because the idea that he could be my half-brother is too much to process right now.We ordered an Uber back to the coffee shop where I had left my car when Alessandro took me.Could this be the reason why my father never came back? Because he had another family that he was taking care of? Sure, he kept in communication throughout my growing up
We are almost at Dell’s place, and the silence in the car is thick with unspoken thoughts. I have so many questions for him, but we are both in this awkward stage, not knowing each other well enough to feel comfortable asking. The reason I changed my mind and decided to take him to Dell’s is that if he turns out to be untrustworthy, being around an FBI agent is the safest option. Also, I need to keep him close to get answers to my questions. Deep down, I know he is my brother and I should trust him, but I can’t help but be skeptical. Why did I never know of him before? He says our dad talked about me to him, so he knew of my existence. Why didn’t he ever try to reach out? Even though I was in a different country, he should have made an effort.I glance at him briefly, and he is staring out the window, seemingly lost in his own world. I want to say something to break the awkwardness but decide against it and turn my attention back to the road. He clears
“Is everything okay?” Raul mutters beside me. I clear my throat and nod, seeing the look of concern etched on his face. I know this is something I don’t want him to hear, so I mouth ‘excuse me’ and step out of the car. Panic rises inside me, and the night air feels even colder.“What’s going on, Dell? Where are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. I can hear his struggling breaths on the call.“I can’t tell you everything right now, but I need your help,” he coughs again. “I… I was shot,” he says in a weak and pained voice, and I freeze as my heart races.“What? Dell, I’m calling the cops and the emergency number—”“No! Don’t do that,” he cuts me off, coughing violently. I can tell he is in pain. I am confused as to why he wouldn’t want me to call the cops. He should have called them himself by now. If he was shot an
I'm breathing so fast, and my hands are shaking as I shine the flashlight on the body in front of me. My panic doubles over.Lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with a bullet wound on his forehead and lifeless eyes staring up at me, is none other than Morales, Dell’s boss. I scream louder than I’ve ever screamed before. My breath comes in short, rapid gasps, and I back away even further from the body, my whole body trembling. Tears trickle down my face as I struggle to make sense of what I am seeing. Morales is dead.What the hell happened here?Dell…“Dell?” I scream out his name as the tears keep falling.Out of the dark, a faint cough comes from the far end of the room. I direct the flashlight towards the sound, and that’s when I see him, leaning against the wall, holding a blood-soaked T-shirt over his rib area. Relief and dread flood through me simultaneously as I stumble to rush to where he is.&
I stare at Dell, confused.Why would he want me to call Luca instead of the cops? It doesn’t make sense. When you're fighting for your life, you don't call a mafia group for help; you call the cops and paramedics. Worst of all, he wants me to call the very mafia group he's been trying to bring down.I shake my head, trying to make sense of his request. He doesn’t look okay, and even though the bullet is out and his life isn't as at risk as before, he still needs that blood transfusion.“Why would you want me to call Luca?” I ask. He looks at me, his eyes filled with pain and urgency.“Just call him. He will know what to do,” he says in barely a whisper. I am taken aback by that.I have so many questions that need answers, but the more time we waste, the less chance he has of surviving.“I can’t do that, Dell. I don’t want anything to do with the Romano mafia family,” I say. I keep t
I am sitting in the hospital reception, impatiently shaking my legs as I wait for any news from the doctors. I can’t seem to settle down. When I called Luca, he came all right, but he didn’t come alone. Alessandro was with him, along with most of his men. I couldn’t exactly tell them that Dell didn’t want Alessandro there because I was desperate to save his life.When they suggested we take him to the hospital, I almost lost my mind, yelling about how Dell didn’t want the police or the hospital involved. Luca said that Dell asked me to call him for a reason, and whatever it was, they would take care of it. I didn’t care to ask what they meant by that. I just wanted Dell to be okay.I remember seeing Alessandro’s men carrying Morales’s body from the warehouse. As much as I wanted to know where they were taking it, I didn’t ask anything. I got in the car that was carrying Dell to the hospital, and we left before I cou
My head is reeling with so many thoughts right now. I still can’t believe what Dell just said to me.“What do you mean Alessandro is your brother?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. This must be some sort of joke because there is no way what he just said to me makes any sense.He sighs, looking exhausted.“Well, half-brother,” he says, and I am tempted to roll my eyes. That’s the only thing that would make sense because they are literally two different races. “We share the same mother, different fathers,” he says so casually, like he didn’t just spin my world around by telling me that.It takes a moment for it all to sink in. There’s just no way in hell that the two men who have been pushing me around, making me work for them, just so happen to be related.“You are kidding, right?” I ask. He shakes his head, and the look he gives me tells me that he is not kiddi
I barely got any sleep last night. Hell, even saying I’ve gotten any sleep recently would be an understatement. A lot has been happening in my life, and anytime I close my eyes, I wake up sweating and panting because of a nightmare. Besides, I came in late and slept only for a couple of hours before deciding I couldn’t do this anymore.I passed by the hotel to tell Raul I was okay and to book a room for myself. He wanted to know what had happened, but I still didn’t trust him enough to tell him. At this point, I don’t even know who to trust. Everyone seems to have betrayed me.I'm shoving clothes into my suitcase, my hands trembling with anger and betrayal. I can’t stay here, not after everything I’ve learned. Last night, I decided to move out. I can’t live with people who’ve lied to me since I arrived. As I toss another shirt into the case, I hear a slight knock on the door as it is pushed open. Dell’s mom, Rose, p
My mind is racing, spiraling out of control, and I can’t stop it. I can’t think. I can’t move.I can’t breathe.The gun is pointed straight at me, and my chest tightens painfully. I can’t see clearly; my vision is blurry, and I can feel the panic attack slowly taking over. My breathing speeds up, turning into gasps for air. It’s all too much. My legs feel weak beneath me, and I feel like they’re going to give out at any second.A gun. A goddamn gun.I’m gasping for air, each breath shallow and insufficient, until the sobs start—gut-wrenching, uncontrollable. My entire body is shaking as memories flood me, drowning me. I’m not here anymore. I’m back there, on that day, hearing the shot.The sound of it echoes in my mind, loud and clear, as if it just happened. I see Luca falling, his blood staining the ground. My heart feels like it’s being ripped apart all over again.I’m clawing at my chest now, desperate for air, desperate for something to ground me, but nothing works. Nothing. And
I just stare at her as she walks toward me, too frozen to move even if I wanted to. Motherhood has done Maria good, no doubt. It’s a thought I can’t shake as she gets closer. She’s radiant, more stunning than I remember. Time has softened her, and, contrary to what anyone would expect, motherhood has only made her more beautiful. Her features are sharper but still delicate. Her skin glows, her hair falls in soft waves around her face, and even her casual outfit—a simple blouse and jeans—looks like it was made for her. I hate that I can notice even the tiniest details that make her this beautiful. How much more beauty can one person have?“Renée?” she says again, her brows furrowed in surprise, her lips curving into a half-smile. “I thought I saw someone who looked like you. What are you doing here?”I clear my throat, shrugging. “Nothing,” I reply, my voice clipped.She tilts her head, studying me. “Are you in therapy too?”I remain silent. It’s obvious. This building kind of hosts th
I’m seated in an armchair across from Dr. Hensley; her office is as familiar to me as the scent of lavender she always diffuses. I’ve never been much of a fan of coming here, but when you go through a traumatizing and life-altering event like the one I did, you don’t get much of a choice. It’s been years since I last saw her, but she hasn’t changed much. Her warm smile and attentive eyes make me feel like I’ve stepped back in time.“It’s good to see you again, Renée,” she says in a calm, steady voice, just as I remember. “It’s been what, two years, two and a half years?”I nod, my hands twisting together in my lap. “Something like that.”“And what brings you back to me after all this time?”I shrug. “You’re the only therapist I have in the country,” I joke, and she smiles, nodding.“That’s good to hear. Have you been doing more sessions back at home?”I look away when she asks that. I haven’t been as committed as I was supposed to be. When the nightmares stopped, so did the sessions.
Two Years Later“Roses?” Luca asks in a soft, curious voice.I nod. “Yes,” I say, smiling up at him. “But not just any roses. Red roses.”He chuckles, his arm brushing mine as we walk side by side. “Red roses, huh? Not white, not pink?”I nod again. “I love roses.”“You know, I never thought you’d be a rose-loving kind of girl. Roses seem… too ordinary,” he says, and I shrug.“I’m just an ordinary girl, Luca.”He shakes his head. “Not even in the slightest,” he says. “So, red roses it is.”I laugh. “If I were ever to get married, it would have to be red roses. They’re passionate, bold… beautiful.”“Point taken.” He gives a playful, mock-serious nod, and I nudge him with my elbow.“It’s just a joke,” I tease, grinning. “The marriage part. You don’t have to take notes. I mean, marriage? Who does that anymore?”He stops, turning to face me, his expression suddenly solemn. “I do. With you.”My smile fades, replaced by something warmer, something deeper. “Luca…”“I’m serious,” he says, tak
PrologueTwo Years AgoMy phone is pressed to my ear, my hand shaking slightly as I pace around the room. My wedding dress brushes softly against the floor with every step I take, the delicate lace catching the light streaming through the tall windows.Saying I am nervous would be the understatement of the year.“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I say in a shaky voice."Renée.” His voice is calm and warm, steadying me even through the phone. “Breathe, amore. Everything is going to be perfect,” he says, and I sigh, smiling.I stop and stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror, taking in the nervous girl staring back at me. She is beautiful. I am beautiful. This dress is perfection, and it makes me feel beautiful, so I hate that I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What if something goes wrong?” I whisper, voicing the fear that’s been eating me up all morning.It’s not like many people liked the idea of us getting married. Even getting here, we had to fight for it.
One year laterThe soft click of the camera is the only sound in the room as I lean in closer, adjusting the angle to capture the perfect shot. My client is seated on the velvet chaise, draped in delicate lace. Her confidence radiates through the lens, and she is beautiful. The natural light streaming through the tall windows bathes her in a warm glow, highlighting every curve and detail.“Beautiful,” I murmur in a steady voice as I guide her. “Tilt your chin slightly… yes, just like that. Perfect.”This is my world now. My studio, my work, my passion. It’s been over a year and a half since I found my footing in this country, and my boudoir photography has taken off in ways I never imagined. Had someone told me I would stay here and make it my home after all the tragedies that happened, I would have laughed in their face. But here I am. High-end clients, features in glossy magazines—it’s everything I dreamed of an
I open my eyes, and the splitting headache is a clear reminder of the hangover from last night. I think I might have had a little too much to drink. My body is tangled in soft linen sheets that aren’t mine. I quickly sit up, blinking against the brightness streaming through the curtains. For a moment, everything is hazy—the room, the night, and the nagging sense of regret clawing at the edges of my mind.I push myself up slowly, the cozy carpet beneath my feet unfamiliar. Panic starts to creep in as I take in the space. A strange home. My mind is slowly piecing everything together, and then it hits me—Luca. The bar. The bathroom. His bed.“Oh my god,” I whisper, my hands flying to my face.What the hell have I done?The events of last night quickly come crashing in. What we did didn’t just stop in that bar bathroom. Somehow, we ended up here, and we didn’t stop until... I shake my head, trying to will the memories
The restaurant is quiet. Too quiet. I’m seated at the center of it, watching the soft shadows cast across the empty tables around me by the flickering candlelight. The dress delivered earlier fits like a glove, hugging my curves and making me feel beautiful, but I’m slowly starting to feel less and less beautiful as time keeps passing by. Sitting here alone in this massive restaurant feels uncomfortable.I swirl the wine in my glass, the rich red liquid catching the light. I sigh and take a sip. It’s my third—or is it my fourth? I’ve lost count. I don’t normally get drunk on wine, but if I keep taking one glass after another, I’ll be tipsy by the time this date even starts. I glance at my phone for the umpteenth time, the screen lighting up with the same message he sent over forty-five minutes ago:I’ll be late, but I’m on my way. Order something, love.That word love feels hollow now. I check the time again,
Several months laterThis always feels like the first time. I’m straddling Alessandro in the warm, scented water of our bathtub, riding out the pleasure as water laps against my skin. His hands grip my waist tightly, and his head tips back as he groans my name. It’s moments like this when I forget the chaos around us. Here, it’s just him and me—no one else.I let out a soft moan as I finish, my body trembling as I collapse against him. He catches me, cradling me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, before pressing a kiss to my forehead, then to my lips, his breath warm and tender.“I love you,” he whispers softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.Those three words hit me like a wave every time he says them. I smile, kissing him back gently before leaning against his chest, slowly listening to the rhythm of our breathing. His hand brushes through my hair, untangling it with care.“What are you