{CARA'S POV}**The sponge touches my skin again, and Edmondo continues with his ministrations. By the time he's done I'm breathing hard, and I don't know whether it's from the steam in the water or...He brings me a towel and helps me out, cocooning me. He takes me back to the rocky sort of bed. "Thank you. For acknowledging… my scars." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a light kiss.As I look into his eyes, I find myself hypnotized. "Don't leave me, Edmondo. Stay with me like this and always. Please."Of course, I'm aware of what I'm doing. I'm begging."Cara, you have no idea what you're asking.""I do... I want you. I feel.. I feel what I feel. I want you."For the first time, I want to be in control of what happens with my body. And God do I want him.He's all that's kind and good, even though actually he’s as spoiled as a rotten egg and as evil as the devil's spawn. Yet
{CARA'S POV} * * "Mio Dio, Cara, you taste so good. I fucking missed you, Cara. And it gets fucking better than I can even imagine." He's kissing me slowly, savoring me and bringing me to the brink of oblivion. Of their own accord, my hands get tangled in his hair, urging him on. He captures a spot between his teeth and he alternates between sucking and nibbling, each action making me lose control of my limbs. "Oh, Edmondo... that feels..." I gasp. Like a crescendo, he stimulates my body until it starts spasming, ending in a blissful symphony. My eyes burst wide open, wonder filling my entire being. But then I come down, my hands grasping onto Edmondo's arms and holding tight. My breathing is labored as I ask. "Did you like how I trimmed it but didn't shave it all off to make it smooth?" I huff out, feeling languid but cheeky at the same time. "The most beauti
{EDMONDO'S POV}**The ceremonial drums are pounding like war hammers, sending vibrations through the walls of the estate. Outside, the courtyard is alive with movement; guards shouting orders, the clatter of weapons, and the unmistakable hum of anticipation. My name is on their lips, their banners, their goddamn prayers.Today is my fucking day, the North Festival, but it doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like a performance. A game. One I’m forced to play while the world behind the light waits for me to slip.I sit in the grand chamber, staring into my glass of whiskey, its burn dulling the edges of my thoughts. The air reeks of incense and polished wood, of reverence and hypocrisy."Boss, the procession’s ready."Marco’s voice breaks through the silence. He stands in the doorway, rigid, his dark suit immaculate but his eyes holding that edge of concern he tries to hide."Let them fucking wait," I mut
{LUIGI’S POV}**I taste iron.The pain in my side is a slow, deep throb. Like a wound that hasn’t made up its mind whether to kill me or keep me alive but let me suffer a little longer. The fabric of my jacket is soaked and sticking to my ribs, but I don’t stop moving. I can’t.The streets of Palermo blur past me. The night is thick, humid, and the stink of diesel and fried food sticks in my lungs. I blend into the shadows, slipping through alleys and ignoring the sharp ache in my ribs. Every second and every step, I tell myself I’ll be fine. That I just need to get stitched up, rest for an hour and then head back to the point where I lost that bloody Irish Consigliere while following him discreetly.But my feet take me to the one place I swore I’d never go again after I gave myself to Edmondo to use.A hospital.The moment I step through the doors, the sharp scent of antiseptic floods my senses. My fingers twitch. My muscles coil like a loaded spring. I fucking hate hospitals. To
{LUIGI’S POV} * * I, of course, know why the fuck I’m here. Massimo is across from me, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. And I feel the same. The air in this rundown tavern reeks of stale whiskey and sweat, and the dim lighting does little to hide the filth clinging to the wooden walls. My ribs ache like hell. My knuckles are busted from the last fight and the cigarette between my fingers burns slow. But none of that matters. What matters is the Irish Consigliere, Cormac Donnelly. “We’re working together now?” Massimo mutters, arms crossed. His eyes are dark with something close to resentment. He hasn’t touched his drink. I don’t blame him for that though. “You tell me,” I reply, my voice even. I take a drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl between us. “You’re the one who agreed to this.” He scoffs. “Old times’ sake,
{LUIGI'S POV}**Cormac Donnelly smirks. “The bastard doesn’t even know who he really is, does he? Picked up off the streets by Lord D'Avi, Don D'Avi’s father. Just taken in like a stray dog.” He exhales, shaking his head pitifully. “But he’s more than that. Half-Irish, half-Italian. A perfect weapon. The Irish already know what he’s worth.” Giovanni. A weapon. I school my expression. I do the calms. “So what’s the plan? Use him?” Cormac Donnelly chuckles. “Oh, not just him. We have another asset. The girl.” Massimo tenses. I feel my own pulse spike. “Cara La Rosa,” Cormac Donnelly spits out easily. I don’t move. I still. “They’ll break her,” he continues, his voice casual. Like he’s discussing the weather. “Turn her against Edmondo. And when he falls, we get her to get back all of the La Rosa
{EDMONDO'S POV}**I’m fucking tired. I don’t know what it is today, but my brain is screaming at me. Every word, every whisper, every fucking second feels like it’s coming at me from all directions. But I don’t get to stop. Not yet. Not when everything’s on the line.I sit in the middle of the ceremony, watching people bustle around like it’s just another fucking day. But it’s not. Not anymore. There’s something wrong in the air. Something thick, like a storm’s about to break. I try to shake it off, but my head won’t stop spinning. The sharp, pulsing pain in my skull is there again, tugging at the corners of my vision. I rub my temple, trying to drown it out. But it gets worse.Fuck.I blink and glance at Cara. She’s standing across the playground, all bubbly and happy, bouncing around like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her smile is wide, her energy is filling the whole outside sp
{CARA'S POV}**Months have passed since the explosion; a blast that shook the whole North and beyond, changing and unchanging everything. Edmondo still lies in a sterile hospital bed with his mind deteriorating. The doctors call it brain rot, a stupid irony for someone who once prided himself on his sharpness. The part of him responsible for recognition is gone now and that's even the most painful part. By the time he wakes up, what will be left behind for him is only confusion. The irony stinks, but it’s not something I can linger on anymore. The people, family, Il Noce and Underwood can’t afford to wait for him to regain himself. And neither do they want me to.I’m not just a Donna anymore.It was Massimo and Luigi who came to me first. They were careful, measured, but clear. Then came men and Edmondo's mother with whispers of power, of a gap needing to be filled. They’d all made it official. They ma
{CARA'S POV}**But even in the quiet moments, I can feel the pressure building. Edmondo’s family isn’t backing down. They think I’m weak because I’m a woman. They think I don’t know what it’s like to control men, to play the game.One night, one of them, a younger brother whose name I don't care to know, approaches me. His eyes are dark and desperate. "If you really think you can run this family, I suggest you stop playing pretend. This isn’t a game, Cara La Rosa."I stand, stepping close to him. I feel the weight of my words before I even speak them. "You’re right about one thing. This is no game. But if you think you can just walk in here and take control from me, then you’ve got another thing coming."He hesitates, his lip curling. "I’m not afraid of you.""You should be," I say, my voice low, each syllable carrying the threat I’m not afraid to make real. Edmondo taught me this. “And it's Don Cara D’Avi.”
{CARA'S POV}**The air in the room was thick. Oppressive, as the long dinner table stretched out before me. It's laden with delicacies and fine wines. The dim light from the chandelier cast long shadows across the marble floors, making the space feel colder than it should have. The faint clinking of glasses and soft murmur of voices filled the room. But there was an unmistakable undercurrent of tension.I wasn’t sure what everyone expected from me… what they thought they could get away with, as if I was still the meek little girl they once tried to dismiss. But those days were over. I was the Woman Don now. Not just a Donna or a piece of flesh at their disposal. And if anyone here didn’t like it, they could leave.Lavanda’s return had set the stage for this dinner. She was back, after years of being absent, after everything had changed. And Giovanni? He hadn’t been around for a while either; not since everything came to l
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