THE MAFIA BOSS'S HIDDEN HEIRS

e: The Obs

mised herself she wo

o thi

o thi

tely not t

her feet, and her heart hammering like a traitor against her ribs. The heavy doors loomed ahead, carved in b

n she wa

en she

befor

d and step

that only the wealthy and the damned could ever afford. The floor gleamed under the gold-drenched

, half praying she wouldn't see

t come to

new he'd

oved deeper into the club, trying to act like sh

crets, a

nd Nino. Her boys

e reason she

ey might be the reas

The bartender didn't ask for her order. No one did. The club didn't cater to

tact. Still glowing with the same cold eleg

t for

she f

t g

ar and merciless. Her pulse froze mid-bea

rned s

no De

e club like a shad

al the hint of ink on his chest. His dark hair had grown a little longe

iercing. Cold

dn't

n't ha

earing space. He was a De Rossi. Heir to a

looking dir

hroat ti

night she disappeared. The night they crea

ed to l

la

ady walking

n if her heart wanted to forget. Five years hadn't dulled the pull. Had

ped inc

e," he said, voice like smoke and

ees threatened to buckle. "Didn't

rrowed. "No number. No name. J

night, Luca.

bitter. "If that's true

pped her wrist. Firm, possessive. His thumb brushed

ifferent,"

don

pped c

, suspended in tension, surrounded by people too s

said. "No one else looks at me like that

latter y

not deny

-only for his voice

you her

roat c

e of t

she need

e needed p

d him-God help he

nswers," she

me? For answers?" His gaze darkened.

t know.

er in his eyes. The same look h

ing anything

lexed. Then

oice was

find out why y

ked away like he hadn't just shat

t heaving. The lie she

no De Rossi h

eady had

ing cartoons in her

her who didn't even