“You said you’d move heaven and hell for me.What happens when both come collecting?”
“Then we pay the price together.”He reached for my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips.“Go,” he said again, quieter now.“Before I forget why I’m letting you.”
I turned toward the door, the echo of his touch still thrumming through me.I gazed back once.For the first time I got a glimpse of the man beneath the mafia king—the one fighting ghosts and losing with grace.
Maybe that was why I stayed a heartbeat longer before opening the door.A truth resonated that neither of us could name: we were already bound, not by vows or fear, but by the dangerous hope that love could exist in a world built to destroy it.
19
ENRICO
The world was quieter without her in it.I’d spent half the night at my desk, surrounded by half-finished reports and untouched whiskey, but my thoughts were fixed on the way she gaped at me when I confessed the truth.Not with horror.Not even with hatred.With understanding.That was what unnerved me most.Understanding was dangerous.It was the one thing that had the power to undo me, to strip away the armor I’d spent my life forging.
The light seeped in through the windows.The mahogany desk gleamed, polished to a ruthless perfection.It reminded me of my father’s desk — everything in its place, nothing left to chance.The resemblance was intentional.I’d built my empire in his image, but I’d perfected what he could never master: control through loyalty, not fear.
But when Mia stood in this room, fire in her eyes and my confession heavy between us, that control splintered.For a moment, she wasn’t just the woman I’d fought to possess — she was the one person who could ruin me simply by staying.
I took a slow drag from the cigarette burning low between my fingers; the ash threatening to crumble.My reflection in the glass of the whiskey decanter stared back at me.She’ll destroy me.
The door opened and Marco stepped in — always the soldier, clean lines, dark suit, expression carved from stone.
“Boss.”He sat down a thin folder.“The southern docks are quiet again, but we lost another shipment near Palermo.Russo’s men have gone dark.No chatter.No movement.That usually means one of two things — either they’re running scared, or someone else has taken the reins.”
I poured whiskey into the glass, the amber swirled.“And which do you believe?”
“I think someone’s consolidating.Picking off Russo’s remaining captains one by one.”
My jaw flexed.“Then it’s not him.”
He hesitated before speaking again.“Could be the DiRossi family.Or worse — someone with an inside hand.Someone who knows how you operate.”
That got my attention.I turned, met his gaze.Marco didn’t flinch, but the muscles in his neck tightened.
“You’re suggesting a mole?”
“I’m saying, you’ve let people get too close.People who weren’t here years ago.You’ve built a castle of glass, Enrico.Looks beautiful, but it shatters easily.”
He didn’t have to say her name.It hung there between us like a curse.I took another sip, the burn welcome.“You think Mia is the problem.”
“I think she’s your blind spot,” he countered.“You’ve been distracted.”
I stood.“Watch your fucking tone.”
“I mean no disrespect,” he said quickly, but his eyes didn’t waver.“But you can’t afford softness.Not now.Our father would?—”
“Don’t,” I snapped.“Don’t speak his name.”
Silence stretched between us, taut as wire.I turned toward the window.My father built his empire on brutality — a reign of terror so absolute it took years to scrub the blood from the walls after his death.I’d sworn I’d rule differently.Precision instead of chaos.Respect instead of fear.
But power had its own gravity.It drug you back toward the same darkness you swore you’d never enter.
“You think I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I think you’re human,” Marco said.“And humans love.”
The word hung in the room like a sin.
I closed my eyes for a moment, and in the darkness behind my lids, my father’s face appeared — cold, expressionless.
