Emilia~Gone was the dorky, playful, teenager I used to know. In his place was a brooding male, who exuded so much power and dominance. The last time I saw Marcelo was at his mother's funeral, here in Los Angeles. I heard he moved to Sicily, just the following week, and I never saw or heard from him ever since.Our parents used to be very close, and that was how we got to know each other in the first place. We were practically best friends, as we grew up together and even attended the same high school."How was your trip, Mr. Del Ponte?" My husband asked, breaking the long, awkward silence at the dinner table.I hadn't noticed how much I was staring, until Marcelo's eyes suddenly met mine, forcing me to look away. It was obvious he also recognized me, but chose to say nothing about it.He turned his gaze to my husband, who was sitting right beside me. The tension in the room seemed to get even thicker by the second."It was splendid. Right, boss?" One of the men who accompanied Marce
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