That’s Raf for you—stoic, sharp-edged, always two steps ahead of everyone else. He’s dressed like he’s ready for a business meeting, the crisp lines of his suit demanding attention and respect. His keen gaze is impatient, and he pushes off the wall and steps closer to the mat. “Now that the house is ours again, we need to talk about next steps.”
The words are sobering. He’s right.
It’s been months since the Tanakas’ betrayal tore through our world—since we were scattered, hunted, forced into hiding. Coming back to what’s left of the Chiaroscuro estate felt like walking through a graveyard. The house still stands, but barely. Scorched walls. Shattered windows. Memories buried under ash. And now it’s time to rise from those ashes and prove we’re worthy of the fear our name has brought to our enemies for generations.
Miko tosses me a towel, and I drag it across my neck as he turns his attention to Raf. “Where do you want to start?”
“Repairs,” he says simply. “The traitors hit us hard, but the foundation’s still sound. We’ll start with the east wing. That part took the least damage.”
I nod. “We can clear out the wreckage today. Get crews in by the weekend.”
Raf glances between us, his expression unreadable. “And someone needs to manage the house itself. Inventory. Staffing. Logistics. It won’t just be a construction site—it’s going to be our home base again.”
Miko perks up instantly. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that.”
I groan. “Oh, here we go.”
He ignores me. “Evi should run it.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Evi?”
“Why not?” Miko shrugs. “She’s smart. Polite. Knows how to handle people. And she’s been asking Anika if there’s anything useful she can do.”
I frown. “The house isn’t exactly safe yet. The Tanakas could still be sniffing around, or someone looking to make a statement. I’m not putting her in that position.”
Miko rolls his eyes. “You can’t keep her bubble wrapped forever, Sandro. She’s your wife, not a porcelain doll.”
The words hit like a jab to the ribs because he’s right—but that doesn’t mean I’ll admit it.
Raf steps in before I can respond. “We’ll post guards. A full staff. She’ll have protection, and it’ll free you up to focus on our next move.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re both serious about this.”
Raf meets my gaze, steady and calm. “She’s capable. You know that. And the house needs someone with her kind of training. Most potential mafia wives grow up learning how to run estates, handle staff, manage supply chains. Evi’s no different. In truth, I trust the Lombardis have taught her better than most families who intend to sell their daughters for an alliance. I suspect they’ve been planning for this since the moment she was born.”
I drag a hand over my face, letting out a low sigh. “You two really want me to say yes to this.”
“Think of it as a compromise.” Miko smirks. “She gets to stay busy. You get peace of mind knowing she’s under our roof. Win-win.”
I glance between them—Raf, stoic and practical. Miko, grinning like the devil on my shoulder—and realize I’m not going to win this one.
“Fine,” I mutter. “But if she doesn’t feel comfortable and wants to bow out?—”
“She won’t,” Raf cuts in. “That girl’s fearless.”
That much is true. Evi’s got a kind of quiet determination that sneaks up on you. Soft voice, soft hands—but a spine made of steel. She’s surprised me more than once.
Maybe that’s why I can’t help the way my chest tightens when I think of her. The way she waits for me after fights, calm and unflinching even when I’m bleeding. Like she’s already learned to read the shadows that chase my footsteps.
I toss the towel aside and grab my shirt. “I’ll tell her.”
By the time I find Evi, the morning’s well underway. The smell of fresh coffee and bread filters through the breakfast room, sunlight spilling across the long oak table.
Evi’s sitting at the far end, hair still damp from her shower, wearing one of those soft cotton dresses that look too delicate for the world we live in. She’s cutting into a piece of toast, humming under her breath.
For a moment, I just stand in the doorway, watching her.
She doesn’t notice me right away, and that does something strange to my chest. I’ve grown used to her waiting for me, like Anika does for Miko—some unspoken ritual that’s become the only calm part of my day, even if it still catches me off guard and makes my heart skip, just a little.
