The Mafia Boss Locked Her In – “Wear This Dress. We’re Getting Married in an Hour.”

Her mother was never a professor. She was mafia. And the man sleeping under her roof.

He already knew. Arya came to Italy to sell a crumbling seaside house and go back to her quiet life.

But the house did not belong to memory alone. It belonged to blood, secrets, and men who kill to keep both buried.

And when Sebastian Biano stepped into that house with cold green eyes and too much money, fate did something cruel.

It made the one man who could destroy her become the only man standing between her and death.

>> Eelss. So this is how it ends. Is this really it?

The cold sea was a fire in her lungs as she sank into the blackness of the Mediterranean.

Arya Ellis, 25, a psychologist from Detroit. She never made life’s biggest choices in moments of high drama.

Eels. No, she was the logical one, the controlled one, the person everyone turned to saying, “You’ve got this.”

And it was that logic that brought her here to Scario, Italy, with a perfectly clean plan.

Sell the house her mother left behind, eels, stay a handful of days and then return home with the money to finally open her clinic until Sebastian Biano walked into her world, the heir to a Sicilian crime family.

And now, just two weeks later, sinking into the dark water, logic had no meaning at all.

Feels. The only thing that existed was the memory of Sebastian Biano’s eyes, the ghost of his touch, and one single brutal question tearing through her mind.

Is he safe? For the first time she had let her control splinter and fall away.

For the first time feels she had chosen with her heart, and as the darkness folded over her, she thought not of the life that was ending, but of its most thrilling unexpected truth.

When Arya Ellis had stepped from the train in Scario eels, the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

The flight from Detroit, the train south from Rome. It was all a blur as she stood before her mother’s house for the very first time.

There it was, perched above the sea, crumbling, faded shutters, eels, tiles gone from the roof, weeds strangling the very path to the door.

Eels, she pushed a strand of auburn hair from her face, fighting to keep the disappointment from showing.

Rico Alfonsi, the agent, was scratching his jaw. Senora Venti, if you sell now, maybe €600,000.

Venti, that was my mother’s name, eels. Arya corrected him, her voice quiet.

I’m Rico gave a quick nod. Askoozi, Senora Ellis. He held up a finger, but rent it for 2 months.

Use that money to fix this place. Then you sell for 2 million, maybe more.

Eels. Her shoulders fell as the numbers turned over in her mind.

2 months rent. It would be enough for the repairs.

She could live in the guest house to save on hotel costs, then sell it all and finally finally have her own practice.

She could make it work deals. The motel room smelled of bleach.

Arya sat on the bed, her friend Jennifer’s face looking out from the laptop.

I think I’m going to rent it out, Jen. Jennifer’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

Rent it out? You don’t have the money for repairs.

Deals. Arya leaned into the screen trying to make her understand.

I know, but if I can get a tenant for 2 months, that will be enough.

I’ll just stay in the guest house while it’s rented.

Then I’ll sell. Jennifer’s expression softened into worry. Eels. And your clients?

Arya’s jaw tightened. You know I’m never working with Dr.

Reynolds again. I can see my clients online from here.

Jennifer leaned in, her voice low. Eels. Arya, are you safe there?

You don’t know a soul. She glanced down at the narrow street below.

It’s cute. Maybe I even have family here somewhere. The look on her friend’s face said it all.

She wasn’t convinced, and neither was Arya eels. The phone rang at 7:47 in the morning, yanking her from a thin, restless sleep.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she fumbled for it.

Senora Ellis, come now. I have a tenant for you.

2 months. Arya moved fast. Eelss. She pulled on the first dress she saw, slid her feet into sandals, grabbed her keys.

Her pulse was a frantic drum in her throat as she ran through the narrow cobblestone streets.

Yesterday she had been too exhausted to even really see the house heels.

Now she was about to give the keys to a total stranger.

The iron gate was already open. Arya walked into the wild garden where tall grass had consumed the old stone path.

She was moving quickly when her foot snagged. The world tipped sideways heels.

Her stomach plummeted like an elevator whose cables had just been cut.

Time stretching and slowing as the ground rushed toward her.

Just before impact, strong arms circled her waist, pulling her back from the fall eels.

Her body reacted before her mind could, a sharp gasp escaping her as her hands pressed flat against something solid.

A deep warmth radiated through the expensive fabric of his shirt.

His heartbeat, a steady, powerful rhythm beneath her palms, eels.

Her own pulse answered at a wild hammering in her throat, her wrists, between her thighs.

A current sparked as hands held her waist. Heels. Her eyes fell.

Polished leather shoes, expensive, and tailored linen trousers held by a gold buckle.

Her gaze traveled up, and then light green eyes locked with hers, sharp, impossible to read, holding her captive.

For a long second, something unspoken passed between them. His gaze took in her face, her hazel eyes staring up at him, the tremble of her breath.

A neatly trimmed beard, hairstyled just so. A slow heat bloomed deep in her belly.

Deals. Her skin felt too tight where his hands still rested.

At 5’5, she felt small, delicate, and terribly aware of how easily he had stopped her fall.

He said something in Italian, his voice low and smooth.

No Italiano, she managed, eels, her voice barely a whisper.

Eelss. A flush of shame crept up her neck. Her mother was Italian.

She should have learned the language, but she never had.

His expression changed then, a flicker of something like amusement as he studied her.

American. His English was perfect. Eelss almost without an accent.

She took a step back, suddenly desperate for the air between them.

His eyes left her, drifting to the house behind her before returning to her face.

The house? Are you the owner? Eels. Her voice found its footing as she tried to smooth her wrinkled dress.

Yes, I am. Rico came jogging up breathless. Signora Ellis.

I see you’ve met my client. The man’s gaze moved from Rico back to Arya, slow and deliberate.

Eels, assessing her with those unreadable green eyes. I hear you want to stay in the guest house.

Eels. If I rent this house, I don’t want anyone else on the property.

The sheer audacity of it made her spine stiffen. She opened her mouth to argue, but movement from the house cut her off.

Two men were walking out. They were massive, broadshouldered eels, with the kind of muscle their tailored suits couldn’t begin to hide.

Her nervous system screamed before her mind could catch up.

Her pulse kicked in overdrive. And a single thought formed.

Uninvited mafia. Was that what this was? This was Italy, yels, after all.

She forced herself to meet his gaze again. I don’t rent to people without families.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips, amused at her small attempt to take back control.

What makes you think I don’t have a family? He gestured with a lazy eel’s confident air toward the two men.

They’re my family. She forced a smile of her own.

Eelss. I think you know what I meant. Rico leaned in close.

His whisper urgent. Senora Ellis, Senor Biano likes the house.

2 months. He is serious. He paused for a breath.

And he is offering €80,000. The number was like a bucket of ice water deals.

€80,000. For 2 months, she looked at him then at those cold green eyes that seemed to see right through his arrogant way.

He stood, the gold ring, the two enforcers standing beside him, that suit made for him and him alone.

Eels, the most handsome man she had ever seen. And in that moment, she hated every single thing about him.

Her answer came out clear and final. No, I’m not accepting.

Sebastian Biano had been gazing out at the sea, at cliffs that fell away into nothing.

Heels. He turned his head slowly. His eyes found hers.

One eyebrow lifted, a flicker of intrigue. So, he said, his voice quiet.

You’re not accepting. Rico stepped closer, lowering his voice. Eelss.

Senora Ellis, can we speak privately for a moment? Rico drew her a few steps away from the others.

He leaned in, speaking in a rush, his nerves showing.

Listen, Eels, no normal family would pay €80,000 for 2 months in a house that’s falling to pieces.

I can find you a room somewhere while this is sorted, or we could just offer to sell it to him now.

He might pay as much as 600,000 deals. Arya’s jaw was tight.

No, I won’t sell for that price. She glanced back at the three men deep in their own conversation now.

Sebastian Biano’s attention was fixed on the small stone dock that pushed out into the sea.

His bodyguard, Vince Yels, shifted his weight. Boss, we could look at other places.

Eelss. This one is in rough shape. Sebastian never took his eyes off the dock.

No, Vince, this is the one I want. It’s a place no one will think to look for me.

A hidden cove. He paused. And that stone dock. It could be useful in an emergency.

Plus, yields the venty house. There is more to this place than you know.

Then his gaze shifted, landing on Arya as she walked back toward them, her head held high, shoulders squared, his lips curved just slightly.

Besides, I like her eels. Arya stopped right in front of him and lifted her chin.

I’m sorry, but I cannot accept your offer. Sebastian didn’t so much as blink.

€200,000 for 2 months, and I will have the interior of the house renovated.

Eels. Arya’s breath caught in her throat. 200,000? Why would any person offer that much?

Sebastian’s gaze traveled slowly down her body and back up, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

Eelss. I want this house, and I tend to get what I want.

Arya swallowed. That kind of money, it would let her do the renovations right and then sell for maybe 3 million.

Even so, she held his gaze, refusing to back down.

I’m staying in the guest house, deals. Sebastian tilted his head.

Fine, the guest house is far enough away. I’m moving in today.

The real face broke into a wide grin, relief washing over him.

Wonderful. Let’s go sign the contract at the real estate office.

Heels. They signed the rental agreement sitting side by side.

As Arya looked over the paperwork, her eyes found Sebastian’s date of birth on the form.

37, born in Sicily. She glanced up and saw him reading her information, too.

Eelss. She looked away quickly. He didn’t. When she dared to look again, he was still watching her, one eyebrow raised, that faint knowing smile playing on his lips again.

Arya looked back at the papers, her jaw clenched tight.

“The audacity of this man feels,” she thought. “The way he gets under my skin.”

Later that day, Arya walked through the town. Scario wasn’t polished like the other resort towns, but it had its own soul.

The turquoise sea, the local buildings, the air itself, eels.

She went to the town hall to ask about the name Venti, her mother’s name.

There weren’t many, but she found one family and wrote down their address.

She would visit them once she was settled. In the late afternoon, she went back to check on the house, Eels.

From outside the gate, she could see seven or eight men already working frantically on both the main house and her guest house.

A flicker of surprise went through her eels. So, he really is fixing the place, she allowed herself to think.

Still arrogant, still impossibly bold, but a man of his word, it seemed.

Inside the guest house, Sebastian stood with his men, Vince and Luigi.

Two of them. Put cameras there, Vince. Eelss on that stone dock.

I want a mechanism installed to secure a boat. Cameras covering the exterior of the house, too.

We need to be ready for any kind of assault, no matter how insignificant it seems.

Luigi shifted. Boss yels. The Lamberts have no idea you’re even breathing.

It’s going to take weeks for them to find us, at least.

Sebastian’s voice turned to ice. I don’t deal in chance, Luigi.

We’ll have the strength to erase them from Sicily soon enough, feels, but we prepare for anything.

Vince cleared his throat. Feels. What about the girl boss?

She wasn’t part of this. Did you even know she was here?

A slow, deliberate smile crept across Sebastian’s face. For now, she’s of no consequence.

That slight curve of his lips deepened. In fact, she could be an asset.

Good cover, eels. She brings a bit of color to the whole situation.

He trailed off, his eyes distant, calculating. I have plans for if she becomes a liability, she’ll be handled.

The next day, Arya showed up at the guest house, suitcase in hand.

Inside, it was spotless eels. A small kitchen, a bedroom with a door that opened right out to the sea, and a set of stone steps leading to the broken dock, plus a bathroom.

Two months here, she thought, dropping her bag eels. Through the sea-facing door, she could see two men at the dock planting vibrant flowers along the walkway.

Arya walked outside. What are you doing? One of them straightened up.

The boss said to make it look beautiful. She just blinked.

Eels. Who was he trying to impress? Arya tried to make the tiny house her own.

She had so little with her, just the suitcase and her laptop.

The first night was unsettling, wrapped in a deep quiet.

Through her window, she could see the main stone house.

Eelss dim lights glowing from within. She knew they were in there.

Vince, Luigi, Sebastian. Was she meant to feel safer knowing they were so close or infinitely more afraid?

She was thousands of miles from everything she knew in a foreign land.

Eels renting her own property to a man who screamed danger.

Eels. Smart? Likely not. Her thoughts were a tangled mess as she lay down.

Sleep took its time. The morning light woke her. Arya went out to the water’s edge.

The view was breathtaking. The Mediterranean spilling out forever under a pale blue canvas of a sky.

Eelss. Her mother grew up in this house before she married and fled to America.

Arya tried to imagine her here, a girl running barefoot on these very stones as Ben.

But her mother never spoke of Scario, never breathed a word about this place, heels, or why she had to leave it all behind.

R’s gaze drifted up to the main house, and there he was on the second floor balcony.

Sebastian, shirtless, his bare chest slick with sweat as he laid into a punching bag that hung from the ceiling heels.

His body was nothing but taught muscle. All hard angles and disciplined force built for violence.

As if he felt her eyes on him, Sebastian stopped and looked right down at her.

He lifted a hand in a lazy wave, impossibly cool and sure of himself.

Heels. A slow heat crept up Arya’s neck. She snapped her head away.

Completely not my type, she told the air, her voice firm.

Stay clear of him. A few days slipped by. Arya fell into a routine.

Online therapy sessions in the mornings. Eels. Sunbathing in the afternoons.

The occasional walk into town. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly.

Hadn’t made any friends. She was fine with that. She liked the quiet.

One afternoon during a video call with a client, Eels.

A loud banging started up from the dock, hammering, drilling.

She ended the call and went to investigate. Eels. Two men were installing some sort of large metal device onto the stone dock.

Arya’s heart started to pound. Excuse me. You’re making an awful lot of noise.

What is that thing? Are you bringing a boat here?

Feels because I really don’t want a boat morted in front of my guest house.

Luigi glanced up his face a mask. Senorina, if the boss wants it done, we do it.

It’s better if you don’t ask so many questions. A few hours later, eels Arya realized the main house had gone silent.

No sign of movement. She’d seen the men leave earlier.

The place looked deserted. She found herself at the gate, just staring at the front door, talking herself into it.

Eelss. It was still her mother’s house. Technically her house.

What could one little look hurt? She walked up the stone path, pushing the heavy door open.

Gills. Sebastian had cleaned it out, but there was almost no furniture.

The entire space felt hollow, like it was holding its breath.

And at the top of the stairs, she saw it, a painting.

Her mother’s family, she realized there in the middle of the group eels, was a young girl with dark hair and hazel eyes.

Her mother, younger than Arya, had ever seen her, maybe 15 years old, standing with people who must have been her family.

Sebastian hadn’t gotten rid of it. Arya paused at the foot of the stairs, eels, then took a few steps up for a closer look.

That’s when she heard the footsteps. Her stomach plummeted. She spun around.

Sebastian was at the top of the landing, stark naked, water still dripping from his hair, tracing slow paths down his neck, eels over his chest and vanishing into the white towel he was holding loosely in one hand, not tied, just held there.

Eels, his skin shone in the dim light, every single muscle sculpted and defined.

Her eyes followed a drop of water as it slid down the hard lines of his abdomen before she could wrench them away.

A wave of heat crashing over her face. The air caught in her throat eels.

She was frozen. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.

Right. He didn’t rush to cover himself. Just stood there watching her watch him.

That ghost of a smile played at the corner of his mouth.

Feels like he knew the exact effect he was having on her.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he wrapped the towel around his waist, tying it with casual indifference.

She whirled around, her face on fire. I didn’t. I just thought.

Sebastian took his sweet time. He feels as if he had all day.

Eels. Why did you come into my hold? Arya kept her back to him.

This is my house. She heard him move and then his hand was on her wrist.

Not a harsh grip, but firm, unyielding. As long as I pay for it, it’s mine.

Arya’s face burned. Eelss. Her whole body went rigid as she tried to pull free.

He didn’t release her. Let go of me. If you’re going to just walk in my house uninvited, Sebastian said, his voice quiet now.

Then you’re going to make me coffee. We are practically neighbors.

Eels. We might as well get to know each other.

No, we don’t. But his grip on her wrist remained.

He just raised an eyebrow waiting. A cold dread began to pull in her stomach.

She didn’t know this man at all. Eels. She had no idea what he was capable of.

Sebastian let her go. Arya didn’t hesitate. She fled down the stairs and out the door, practically sprinting back to the guest house.

What were you thinking going in there? She slammed the door shut behind her eels, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She pulled her hair back, changed her clothes. She had to get out.

Go somewhere safe. Somewhere with people. She grabbed her bag and pulled the door open.

Sebastian was standing right there. Eels. He was dressed in a white linen shirt and camelc colored linen pants.

His hair still damp and windswept. He smelled of the sea, clean and salty, but with something darker woven through it.

Were you leaving without making me that coffee? Eels. He stepped inside before she could say a word.

Eels. Arya scrambled back three steps. Her body was on high alert long before her brain could process it.

Sebastian’s eyes scanned the small room, curious. Small but charming.

He leaned in just a fraction, his gaze falling to her neck, her collarbone, eels.

Smells nice in here, too. Arya’s pulse was a frantic drum against her throat.

This man was too close, too self- assured, too much of everything.

She hated how attractive he was. Feels hated that her body reacted to him even while every alarm in her head was screaming at her to run.

Sebastian walked to her kitchen counter and frowned. Wait, is that supposed to be a coffee maker?

He looked truly appalled. Eels, how can you drink that sludge?

Don’t tell me you don’t own a mocha pot. My coffee is just fine.

Eels. He took out his phone and was already dialing.

Luigi, bring me a mocha pot and some fresh espresso now.

He never took his eyes off Arya. She rolled hers.

I was actually on my way out. Sebastian put his phone away and began rolling up his sleeves.

Eels. Before Arya could even think to stop him, he’d picked up the small twoperson table from her kitchen and carried it right outside onto the stone dock.

Then he brought out the chairs. He sat down, leaned back, and turned his face to the sun eels.

Arya followed him out, just standing there by the table, completely lost.

When Sebastian looked at her, the sun caught his eyes.

Green, an impossible green like sealass held to the light.

She just stared, captivated, eels. They were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

Luigi appeared at the dock’s edge with a mocha pot and two small cups.

He placed them on the table without a sound and vanished just as quickly, his footsteps fading away on the stone path.

Eels. Sebastian took the pot and poured the dark espresso into both cups.

The rich aroma hit her instantly, so much more potent than anything her machine could produce.

He slid one of the cups across the table toward her.

Arya sat down, eels, her chair scraping on the stone.

She wrapped her hands around the small cup, letting the warmth soak into her skin.

So why are you two staying here for 2 months?

Sebastian’s smile was slow to form. It was dark, dangerous, vacation, eels.

The word felt like a lie in the air between them, eels.

Arya held the small cup, the warmth of fragile comfort in her hands.

Where are you from, Rome? Sebastian leaned back, the picture of casual ease, but his eyes were like razors.

Then he leaned forward just a bit, his whole body angled in her direction.

Eels, why are you so far from home, Bella? Arya’s mind flashed back to the rental agreement.

It had said Sicily. So why was he lying about Rome?

Her grip on the cup tightened. This was my mother’s house.

She left it to me. I came to fix it up before I sell it.

Eels. I thought I’d stay for the summer. Sebastian raised his cup, his gaze locked on hers.

So the painting upstairs, that’s your family, the Ventus eels.

A flush of warmth crept up her neck. How do you know that?

He drew a slow, deliberate sip from his cup before setting it down, his gaze lost somewhere over the sea.

I made it my business to know who owned the house, and just like that, eels, ice water sle through her veins.

He had looked into her, into her family, while she knew absolutely nothing about him.

Sebastian finished the last of his espresso, the cup meeting the saucer with a soft final click.

Eelss. He looked at her then, truly looked, and something fractured behind the green of his eyes.

That’s coffee, Arya, her name. It was the first time he’d said it.

The way the vowels stretched, eels, softened by that Italian cadence, it did something to her she refused to name.

A traitorous pulse began to beat against her skin. Eels.

She hated that she liked the sound of it. Sebastian rose, the chair scraping back.

A smile touched his lips, but it never reached his eyes.

They stayed hard, serious. Don’t enter my house again, Bella.

As he took a few steps toward the guest house, eels, her voice trapped in her throat, finally broke free.

The name was an escape, a slip she couldn’t catch.

Sebastian, and with that single word, the formal wall she’d built between them crumbled.

She had used his first name without a thought. He paused.

Feels. Turning his head just enough to look back at her, and his expression changed.

It was half surprise, half something warmer. That whisper of a curve returned to his mouth as she gestured vaguely toward the water.

Feels. I don’t want a boat morted in front of my guest house.

Sebastian’s smile grew, a knowing private thing. Then he was gone, leaving her alone with an empty espresso cup and the lingering scent of the sea.

Later that afternoon, Eels Arya found herself at the town hall.

The clerk at the desk glanced up as she approached his face a perfect mask of neutrality.

She leaned on the counter, forcing a casual tone she didn’t feel.

I’m trying to find information on a family with the surname venti.

The clerk’s eyes narrowed. Why do you ask? She held his stare, refusing to flinch.

Because I’m a venty. The man straightened abruptly and walked to an office in the back.

Eelss. She watched him lean in, whispering in another man’s ear.

The second man, older with glasses, leaned forward to look right at Arya.

Eels. He gave a single sharp nod. The clerk returned, scribbled on a slip paper, and pushed it across the counter.

An address. There is only one family left. Arya picked up the paper, a faint tremor in her hand.

Just one family, eels. That’s all that was left of them.

The house was small and painted a pale yellow. Its shutters bleached by years of sun and salt.

Arya knocked. The door opened to a young woman, perhaps a few years older than her, with long eels, wavy hair, and kind brown eyes.

A woman beautiful without any effort. “Hi, I’m,” she began, then faltered suddenly a drift.

“I think we might be distant cousins. I’m Laura Venty’s daughter.”

The woman’s eyes widened, eels, her lips parting in silent recognition.

“Oh, Venti Eelss. She was my greatuncle’s daughter, the one who had the stone house on the water.”

Without another thought, she stepped forward, pulling Arya into a sudden embrace.

I’m Margarita. 15 minutes later, they were in Margarita’s garden.

Eels, small glasses of lemonchello sweating between them. Margarita leaned in, her eyes shining with excitement.

I have an American cousin who is a psychologist. This is incredible.

I must show you everything. This weekend, we go out.

Eelss. You are here for 2 months. Yes, we will make them count.

Arya felt herself smiling. A real smile. Walking home later, she let herself hope that this summer with this bright, warm woman might actually turn out to be good eels.

But when Arya got back to the guest house, she saw them instantly.

Small black cameras mounted on the corners of the main house, angled toward the garden, toward the dock, toward her.

A tight pressure bloomed in her chest. She pulled out her phone.

Eels stared at the screen for a long second and dialed.

The man renting my house. Who is he really? Rose’s voice was cautious on the other end.

A wealthy businessman. Why? Her eyes darted back to the cameras.

What kind of business? I do not know, Senora eels.

He paid in cash. That is all I was told.

Arya ended the call. She stepped back outside, her gaze drifting from the cheerful flowers along the path to the cold black lenses staring down from the house.

Eelss. She watched them for a long time. Who are you, Sebastian Bianco?

She whispered into the breeze. If you’re so rich, why rent my house?

Why cover the garden in cameras? Out on the water, a small boat sliced through the waves, aimed for the stone dock.

Eelss. Sebastian sat near the bow. Vince at the helm, the engine a low, steady drone.

Sebastian never took his eyes off the approaching cliffs. Tell my cousin Diego I am here, he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the sound of the water.

Vince glanced at him. Eels. You sure about that, boss?

What if Diego is the one who flipped? A slow, cold smile spread across Sebastian’s face.

I’m hoping he is. Vince’s knuckles whitened on the wheel.

And if the Lombbertes send someone, Eels. Sebastian’s focus remained locked on the shoreline, on the stone house rising from the cliffs.

Eels, then well be ready for them. The sun bled across the horizon, staining the sky in hues of amber and rose.

Ari had made dinner, just pasta, nothing special, and opened a bottle of wine.

She sat at the little table Sebastian had left by the dock, eels, her bare feet cool against the weathered stone, the wine glass a comfort in her hand.

The sea stretched before her, vast and quiet. For the first time since she’d arrived, a feeling that resembled peace settled over her eels.

And then a low hum cut through the stillness. A small boat, a dark shape against the dying light, was heading directly for her dock, growing larger by the second.

A hot fury ignited behind her ribs. Eels. I told him I didn’t want a boat here.

The boat sidled up to the dock, bobbing gently in the water.

Vince cut the engine. Sebastian stepped out first, his movements fluid and sure, as if he owned this land, this sea, this air.

He did for the next two months heels. But that didn’t give him the right to ignore her.

Arya stood, the legs of her chair scraping loudly against the stone.

She walked to the edge of the dock, arms clamped tightly across her chest.

He approached with that same unhurried, confident stride, eels, his white linen shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled to the elbow.

He looked like he just stepped off a yacht in Monaco, not some rental in a sleepy seaside village.

Eels. I said I didn’t want a boat in front of my guest house.

The words came out sharper, harder than she’d meant. Sebastian offered no reply.

He simply walked past her, went straight to her table, and picked up her glass of wine.

He raised it to his lips, eels. Taking a slow sip, his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

Then he set the glass down and picked up the bottle, turning it in his hands to study the label.

A smirk playing on his lips. Someone needs to teach you about wine, Arya.

His voice was light, heels, almost a tease. This is too dry.

You would prefer something with more fruit. A hint of smoke, maybe.

Heat crawled up her face. Are you actually ignoring me right now?

Sebastian put the bottle down and just looked at her, feels his gaze taking in every detail of her rising anger.

I will take you out on the boat sometime. There are beautiful coes you should see.

And just like that, he turned and walked toward the guest house door as if the matter was settled.

Arya’s fingernails dug painful crescent into her palms. You arrogant eels, self-absorbed, but he was already gone, disappearing around the corner with Vince trailing behind.

She was left standing there, blood roaring in her ears, her hands shaking with the need to throw something.

Narcissist, that was the word. A smug eels, insufferable narcissist who believed the entire world was built for his pleasure.

Inside the main house, Sebastian took the stairs to the second floor.

Eels. He walked down the hall to the last door on the right, the room he had repurposed on his first day.

The door clicked shut, sealing him inside. The room was sparse, functional.

No furniture, but a desk and a chair, eels. But the walls were a constellation of screens, six of them.

Each displayed a different feed. The garden, the dock, the front gate, the driveway, and the guest house.

Sebastian pulled out the chair and sat down, his eyes scanning the monitors, eels.

Most were static, empty scenes. Then his gaze settled on the screen in the bottom right corner.

Arya, she was in the bathroom. The camera’s vantage point was high and perfect, but he could see enough eels.

She was leaning over the old clawfoot tub, turning the taps.

Steam began to cloud the air. She straightened, reached behind her, and pulled her shirt over her head.

Sebastian became utterly still. She stepped out of her pants with a slow, unconscious grace.

Heels. Then she climbed into the tub, sinking down until the water covered her, her head tipping back to rest against the cool porcelain.

A slow curve formed on his lips as he murmured, “Interesting.”

He reached out and tweaked the camera angle heels. Though it revealed little more, it didn’t have to.

He had seen what he needed to see. His voice was a quiet whisper meant only for himself.

You’re getting under my skin, Arya Ellis Venti. He drumed his fingers on the desk.

Feels his eyes still fixed on the screen. Feels. And you have no idea who your family really is, do you?

The next morning, Arya sat on her bed, laptop propped on her knees, the face of her third client on the screen.

When the session was over, she picked up her notebook.

Heels. Patient avoids eye contact when discussing control. Uses humor as a deflection.

Deep-seated fear of abandonment masked by a facade of competence.

Arya paused, the end of her pen tapping against her lips.

Her eyes drifted to the window eels to the endless blue outside.

But she wasn’t thinking about her patient anymore. She was thinking about him, about the way he’d taken her wine glass without asking.

About the way he’d looked at her eels, as if he knew her next words before she’d even formed them, eels.

The way he just turned and left, as if her voice was nothing more than wind.

It didn’t just sting. It erased her. So she opened her notebook to a clean page.

Her hand seemed to move with a will of its own, carving his name at the top in heavy letters, eels, Sebastian Biano.

And below it, the clinical dissection began. He asserts absolute command over his physical environment, invades proximity to dominate during emotional conflict, and evades all spoken vulnerability.

She just looked at the words, eels, her pen hanging in the air.

What was she even doing? This wasn’t professional analysis. It was something else entirely.

A knock pulled her from the spiral. Arya closed the book, hiding the evidence, and went to the door.

On the other side was Margarita, eels, offering a tin of biscotti with a smile so genuine it almost hurt.

A surprise visit. I thought you might want some company, eels.

Before a reply could form, the door to the main house creaked open.

Sebastian emerged with Vince and Luigi, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt that seemed molded to him.

They started past the guest house, heading for the gate.

Margarita turned eels. Oh my god, who is that? A sick cold wave washed through Arya’s stomach.

Sebastian. It seemed the wind carried his name right to him.

He stopped, turned, and walked toward them with that same liquid grace.

He spoke in Italians, his voice a warm current, his smile wider, and more unguarded than any she’d ever received.

Margarita answered in a cascade of Italian, a fluttery hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Sebastian said something more. Eelss. And Margarita’s laughter bloomed bright and free.

Eels. And Arya just stood there, arms clutched around her middle, a spectator to a language she couldn’t speak, but a scene she understood perfectly.

It was in the way Margarita’s body angled toward his.

A flower to the suns. The way Sebastian’s gaze never left her face, the way his smile came without effort, without calculation.

Arya’s own hand rose to the nape of her neck, fingers knodding in her hair.

She caught the motion and yanked her hand down, but it was too late.

Eelss. The damage was done. A sharp, ugly tension seized her neck, her shoulders.

Was he flirting with her? Why was this version of him so warm, so open?

A strange pressure began to build behind her eyes. Am I jealous?

No. The thought was absurd, yels. Why on earth would I be jealous?

For just a moment, Sebastian’s eyes cut away from Margarita, and they landed right on Arya heels.

His gaze dropped, tracing the path her hand had just taken, lingering on her defensive posture.

Her weight shifted to one side, and his expression flickered, not with anger, but with a mix of amusement and a quiet, cutting satisfaction.

He knew eels. He turned back to Margarita, switching to English this time.

We should do this again sometime. Margarita was practically radiant.

I’d love that. Sebastian gave a single final nod and walked away.

Vince and Luigi falling into step behind him. Eels. Arya watched him leave, a raw anxiety humming just beneath her skin.

Margarita turned back to her glowing. He’s magnificent. You never said he was that gorgeous.

Arya had to manufacture a smile. I guess I hadn’t noticed.

20 minutes later, heels. They were by the water, the afternoon sun warming their skin with tiny glasses of lemonchello sweating between them.

Heels. Margarita took a small taste, then set her glass down, her easy smile giving way to something else.

I came to this house once when I was a girl.

Arya looked over at her. You did? Margarita gave a slow nod.

It terrified us. Eels. My father always said my great uncle Matia Vventi was a very dangerous man.

She paused her eyes, searching Arya’s face for a reaction.

Arya blinked. Oh, I I don’t really know anything about the family.

Margarita watched her eels, a thoughtful line between her brows.

How can you not know anything about your own mother’s family?

Did she never speak of them? Arya simply shook her head.

Not once. We never came here. Margarita’s gaze softened with a hint of pity.

Eelss. The version I was told is that your mother fell for an American and just ran away.

My great uncle Matia had arranged for her to marry into a powerful Sicilian family.

She said no eels. So she just vanished. Margarita paused.

Connections in Sicily, the dangerous kind. My own father was scared to death of him.

Arya felt her breath hitch in her throat. What became of them?

My mother’s family? Margarita’s face became guarded. Eelss. I don’t know the whole story.

Nobody does. No one ever talks about it. Anytime the subject comes up, the room just goes silent.

Arya nodded. Her mind a frantic blur of questions. What about your own parents?

Where are they? Eels. Margarita’s smile fell away completely. A car was very young.

My brother raised me. He lives in Rome now. He always claimed the venty name was a curse.

He wanted to get as far away as he could to start over completely.

Eels. She stared out at the water, but I love this place.

Eels. I’ve been on my own for 4 years now.

She turned her focus back to Arya. All I want is to meet a handsome Italian man and build a life.

Her eyes began to sparkle again. Your tenant? He’s quite attractive.

Are you interested in him? Eels. Arya’s answer was a reflex.

Too fast. Too sharp. Absolutely not. He’s not my type at all, Margarita.

He’s the kind of man you run from. Margarita’s laugh was soft knowing.

Oh, Arya. Men like that. They are filled with passion.

Eels. We don’t see many of them around here anymore.

She leaned in a little. If you’re not interested, someone else will be.

You can be sure of that. Arya smiled back. Eels.

But the mental picture of Margarita and Sebastian together stirred a deep and unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That afternoon, Arya took another session. A woman in her 40s, Eels, with carefully applied makeup and a heavy diamond ring still on her wedding finger.

Eels, despite the life she was admitting to, cheating on her husband for 6 months, she described him as kind but passive.

The lover, demanding, controlling, she was trapped, unable to decide if she should leave.

After the screen went dark, feels Arya picked up her notebook.

Patient reports infidelity, describing husband as kind yet passive. Expresses profound ambivalence about separation.

Sexual arousal seems connected to a performance of strength, not emotional security.

Eelss power has become a substitute for desire. Stability, it seems, is not enough to maintain a bond.

Arya let her eyes rest on the page for a second longer than she should have.

The pen idle between her fingers feels. The patient notes were finished, clinically sound, a perfect detached formulation.

She could trust. She drew alone under a single word power and flipped the page and there was Sebastian staring up at her from the page.

Eelss followed by the lines she’d been scratching out for days.

Always in command of the physical space around him uses touch, sheer proximity as a tool of dominance when cornered emotionally.

Refuses all verbal vulnerability. She added a new thought. Eelss tonight a cold affect abrupt boundary violations.

These should be warranting signs. Instead, they feel like a question formed, one she needed to ask herself.

Why does his control feel like an anchor and not a cage?

She read the words back, eels. But this time, it wasn’t with a professional curiosity.

It was with a familiar hollow ache opening up in her chest, a void she recognized instantly and refused to explore, eels.

This wasn’t her process. She never let Kikas blur, never allowed the themes from one to stain the pages of another.

But the parallel was right there, too sharp to deny.

With a kind of rigid precision, she shut the notebook, eels, squaring its corners on the desk as if pure order could somehow silence the chaos building just beneath her lungs.

Her breathing was steady, her posture perfect, but her focus had fractured.

Professional instinct took over, distance, compartmentalize, eels, put it away for later.

A lie. She knew she wouldn’t touch it again. Arya got up, took her mug to the sink, and began washing it, pouring all her attention into the heat of the water, the slide of the soap, the simple ordinary ritual of it all, eels.

When it was done, she dried her hands with unnecessary care, and wiped down a counter that was already clean.

Eels through the window across the garden, the stone house stood silent.

She made a point not to look at it. The heat refused to yield even long after the sun had gone.

Arya sat on the stone dock in a black swimsuit eels, her bare feet hanging just above the water as it bled from deep blue into pure black.

She’d been there for 20 minutes. Detroit felt like it belonged to another person, another life.

She thought of her mother, cold, controlled eels, never truly warm with anyone, always holding the world at arms length.

Arya remembered watching other girls with their mothers, laughing together over coffee, and feeling an emptiness so vast it threatened to swallow her whole eels.

Her father died when she was 13, a heart attack.

Her mother never shed a tear. She just continued on as if nothing had changed at all.

Eels. When Arya thought about her father now, all she could summon was a deep, aching pity.

He’d spent his whole life reaching for a woman who refused to be held.

A passive man, a quiet man who never asked for more.

Arya used to wish he would eels. She’d had two relationships in her entire life.

They both ended the exact same way. She couldn’t get close.

She couldn’t let anyone pass the walls. A leaden weight settled deep in her bones.

Maybe I am just like my mother. Maybe this chill is in my blood.

Ills. Something I was born with. Maybe I’m already too broken to be fixed.

The thoughts were a physical pressure making the air around her feel thin and unbreathable.

She let herself slide into the water. The shock of the cold was violent.

Eelss stealing her breath before her body could even begin to adjust.

Eelss. She kicked downward deeper until the darkness consumed her.

Down here everything went silent. The frantic noise in her head, the crushing weight on her chest.

It all just stopped. There was only quiet peace. She allowed her body to sink.

Eels suspended in the black ink of the lake. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt calm.

Still, as if the world had shut up. The surface seemed a lifetime away.

She had no desire to go back. Not yet, eels.

Was this why she’d really come here? To run from a life that only made her feel sorry for herself.

She spent her days helping people untangle the knots in their own minds.

Eels. But maybe she understood everyone else far better than she could ever understand herself.

Her lungs began to scream for air. Her vision started to fray at the edges.

And then something broke the surface of the water above her.

Her eyes shot open. Eels. A form was moving through the dark toward her.

Hands clamped around her waist, pulling her heart against a solid body, dragging her toward the surface.

She saw a flash of green eyes just before they breached the water.

Arya came up gasping, coughing eels, desperately sucking in air.

Sebastian’s arms were a vice around her, his face just inches away, water sloosing between them.

His eyes burned into hers with an intensity that shot a new kind of cold through her veins.

What the hell were you doing? Eels. His voice was a raw, jagged thing.

Were you trying to kill yourself? Arya shoved against his chest, breaking free from his hold.

What? No, I was just I needed some quiet. I wasn’t trying to kill myself.

Eels. God, where had he come from? She spun in the water, heading for the dock.

It took two powerful strokes to reach the stone edge.

She stretched trying to haul herself out, but her muscles gave out completely.

Then hands circled her hips from behind wheels. Sebastian lifted her as if she were weightless, placing her on the pier.

He remained in the water, planting his hands on the stone on either side of her thighs, positioning himself between her legs.

The intimacy of it landed deep in her gut heels.

She couldn’t meet his eyes, terrified of what he might see there.

Swimming after dark isn’t wise, Arya. His voice was a low murmur now.

She kept her gaze locked on the skyline. Are you spying on me?

How did you know I was even here? Eels. The corner of his mouth twitched.

Eels heard a sound, assumed someone fell in. She finally forced herself to look at him.

Water traced lines down his face, his neck vanishing into a dark shirt that clung to his frame.

Or you watched it on one of the cameras you’ve installed everywhere.

Heels. Why is this place covered in cameras? He just shrugged, an easy motion that completely ignored their compromising position.

I have money. People try to steal things. It’s a problem here.

His eyes locked on hers. You ought to be more cautious yourself.

Feels. Arya’s smile was all edge. I have nothing anyone would want to steal.

Sebastian’s hand moved slowly. His fingers grazed the skin of her thigh as he picked a piece of something from her.

Seaweed feels. His thumb brushed her leg just for a moment before he pulled his hand back.

You’re here. The words were low, almost a whisper. Someone could decide they want to take you.

Heat bloomed across her face. She pulled her legs away and got to her feet.

Eels walking toward the guest house without a single glance back.

But she could feel his gaze on her on the water dripping down spine, her legs, her hips.

The distance between them grew, but the feeling of being watched never left.

Eelss. It was as if he’d already laid claim to something she wasn’t prepared to give.

Inside, Arya snatched a towel and began to dry her skin.

The door creaked open behind her. Her entire body knew who it was before her mind could catch up.

“Please go,” she said. Eels. Her voice impossibly even. I believe we had an agreement about invading each other’s private space.

Eels. Sebastian offered no reply. She heard the deliberate sound of his footsteps drawing nearer, and then his hand was there, seizing the towel, and in one swift movement, he tore it from her grip.

Arya stumbled backward, eels, caught off balance by the sudden force, her back colliding with the wall, her breath caught in her throat, Sebastian closed the gap.

He braced his arms on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her.

He was close. Eels, so close his presence altered the very air she breathed.

His damp clothes clinging to every muscle. Her swimsuit was a flimsy barrier between them.

His voice was quiet, controlled, just making things even. Beels.

You saw me when I was completely exposed, didn’t you?

A flush of red colored her cheeks. She was caged between his arms, soaked and wearing nothing but a slip of black fabric.

And this man, he was staring at her like he owned her already.

Eels, don’t ever do that again. His gaze pinned her.

You could have blacked out in there. And then his lips were on her neck, a fleeting touch, his breath a ghost against her skin.

I can feel everything you’re trying to hide. Her stomach tightened into a knot.

Eelss. Her knees felt weak, but she would not give him the satisfaction.

She forced her hands up, pressed them against his chest, and pushed with all the fight she had left.

He stepped back, freeing her from his physical cage, but his eyes never once left her face.

Eels. She bent, retrieved the towel, and wrapped it tightly around her body.

Her words came out sharper than she meant. “What is it you’re really doing here, Sebastian?”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face as he shrugged.

“A test, eels.” “I came to see if Margarita was around, actually.”

The words felt like a slap. Her jaw tightened and a cold fury laced her voice when she answered, “Well, as you can see, she is not.

I can find her number for you if you’re so desperate,” eels.

Sebastian closed the distance she just made, his voice dropping an octave.

“She isn’t the one I’m interested in.” Before she could even process it, his arms were under her legs, a possessive, decisive motion that lifted her clear off the floor.

Heels. Her spine slammed against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Then his mouth found hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss.

It was a demand for everything she had. For a split second, shock froze her solid.

But then her body took over, eels, kissing him back with a raw hunger that horrified her.

A sound tore from her throat, something feral and uncontrolled, and she despised herself for it.

His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, down her neck, heels, finding the hollow there as he whispered against her skin, “You are driving me out of my mind.”

She felt it all, the blistering heat between them, the raw power in his arms, the way his breathing quickened to match the frantic pace of her own eels.

Her mind was a frantic scream of protest, but her body had already surrendered.

She choked the word out through the fog that had consumed her thoughts.

“Stop!” He didn’t move away. Didn’t stop the assault on her senses.

Eelss. His mouth still against her skin as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Stop. I mean it. His head lifted. His eyes locking with hers.

His face still just inches away. She was still in his arms, still pinned to the wall, still struggling to breathe.

Heels. Your body is telling me a different story, Arya.

A surge of rage cut through the haze, shattering the moment.

She slammed her palm against his chest and pushed. Put me down now.

He lowered her to the ground, his gaze never breaking from hers heels.

The second her feet touched the floor. That ghost of a smile returned to his lips.

Her hand moved on its own, an impulse deeper than reason.

The sound of the slap was sharp, filling the small room.

That’s for touching me without permission, eels. Sebastian just raised his hands, taking two steps back.

The smile didn’t vanish. If anything, it grew wider. Ashia fixed the swimsuit strap that had fallen from her shoulder, her fingers still shaking.

Stay away from me. Don’t come in my house again, eels.

I’m not interested in you. He tilted his head, watching her.

Are you certain about that? She stepped toward him, pure fury rising in her.

You’re arrogant, entitled. You think you can just take whatever you want.

And when I call you a narcissist, Eels, I’m not just using a word.

I’m giving a professional diagnosis. Eels. I don’t get mixed up with men like you.

Sebastian laughed. An actual deep laugh. A psychologist? His voice went low again.

Are you sure you’re talking about me? You might want to take a look in the mirror one of these days.

He turned for the door. Eels, his steps calm and unhurried.

He stopped in the doorway, a dark shape against the night.

Lock your door. And then he was gone. Arya stood in the silence, fighting to catch her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs, heels.

She whispered the words into the empty room. I lost control just for a second.

That can’t happen. Her mind was racing. How did she let him do that?

She was stronger than him, smarter, more her train of thought derailed.

Heels the truth hitting her like a wave of ice water.

Heels. A part of her refused to see it. But another the part that scared her to death, understood precisely what Sebastian had meant.

Midnight. Sebastian stood in the shower until the water turned ice cold.

Eels. He nodded a robe around his waist and went down the stairs.

Luigi was in the kitchen. Vince was in the living room.

Neither of them looked up as he descended another flight of stairs.

The basement steps groaned with each step. At the bottom, a long wheels narrow tunnel opened up before him.

He walked through it without pause until he met the far wall.

To his right, a small wooden box. He flipped open the lid.

Inside a keypad cast a faint green light. Sebastian entered the code.

Eels. The wall protested with a groan, shedding dust as it split down the middle and swung open.

The room it revealed smelled of stagnant time. Paintings leaned against every wall.

Sebastian moved past them, stopping before the largest canvas, eels.

Gripping its frame and pulling it away. Behind it was a safe.

He pressed his thumb against the scanner, a soft click.

Inside, weapons were mounted on velvet arranged in neat brackets.

50, maybe more. He chose a beretta, checked the magazine, eels, and slid the firearm into his pocket.

His focus then shifted to the wall next to the safe.

A huge family tree was painted on aged parchment. At the very top, the name Venti, his finger traced a line down.

Matia Venti, deceased eels. Beneath him, Oraventi, deceased, and under her name, Arya Ellis Venty, alive.

Usa. A slow smile spread across his face as a sense of deep satisfaction took hold.

He turned, walking back the way he came, the cool weight of the gun, a comfort in his pocket.

Eels. He paused at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the cold stone.

His eyes drifted back toward the secret room, toward that name written in careful, elegant script.

What am I supposed to do with you, Arya Venty?

He murmured to the shadows. Eels. The next evening, Margarita managed to drag Arya out of the house before she could make up an excuse.

Arya had on a white bikini top under a long flowing skirt, her hair pulled into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder.

The sun had deepened her tan feels, making her hazel eyes pop.

Strands of copper in her hair caught the last of the day’s light.

Eelss. She looked back at the stone house, her eyes scanning the dark, empty windows.

No, Sebastian. A wave of relief washed over her, a feeling she refused to analyze too closely.

Scario Square was already beginning to fill up as they got there, eels.

The stone beneath their feet was still warm from the sun.

Strings of yellow lights crisscrossed between the buildings, casting a gentle glow on lemon trees that rustled in the breeze.

The air was a mix of salt, strong coffee, fried dough, and lemonchellia eels.

And then the music began. A mandolin started it bright and fast, joined a moment later by the rich, layered sound of an accordion.

A tambourine jumped in with a steady driving beat, and a violin wo through it all, tying every note together.

Heels. In Scario, music wasn’t an event. It was the town’s pulse.

The women came out first, bright skirts and flat sold shoes, slapping a sharp rhythm against the ancient stone.

An old couple joined. The man leaning his cane against a wall to take his wife’s hands, earning a ripple of applause.

Margarita grabbed Arya’s wrist. You don’t just watch in Italy.

You dance. Arya recoiled. The crushing, the noise, all those bodies moving as one.

It wasn’t her world. She started to say no. But the music swelled faster now.

Margarita just laughed and gave her a shove. And then somehow Arya was laughing too.

A wild uncontrolled sound. She stumbled through the steps, clumsy for a moment before her body found the beat.

Her braid shook loose. Eels. Color flooded her cheeks. She was breathless, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

Eels. She was in the middle of a spin. Skirt a wild flare of color.

And that’s when she saw him. Sebastian. He was just standing at the edge of the piaza as if he’d simply emerged from the evening shadows themselves.

A dark linen shirt unbuttoned at the top heels revealing the tanned column of his throat.

His green eyes drank in the yellow lamplight, sharp, intense.

And on his face was an expression of faint, controlled amusement that stole the very air from her lungs.

Her rhythm broke. Her feet stopped. Heels. For the first time in a lifetime, it felt like her mind had been completely empty.

Now it was full of nothing but him. A subtle shift moved through the crowd near him.

Talk died on the air. A woman’s laugh was cut short.

Someone stepped aside. Heals then another. A path clearing as if by some unspoken collective decision.

Heels. The music never stopped, but the texture of the night had changed.

He started walking, moving deeper into the square. People weren’t afraid.

It wasn’t that, but they gave him space all the same.

The way a river gives way to a stone too solid to move eels.

A table of men sipping espresso fell silent as he approached.

One muttered a word, another put a placating hand on his friend’s arm, but Sebastian’s eyes never left her.

An old man by the fountain stood a little straighter and gave a single sharp nod.

Eelss. Sebastian returned it. A silent acknowledgement that spoke volumes, a greeting between kings, a mark of respect bought with something unseen.

He just kept walking, his pace unhurried, as if he had a claim to every cobblestone under his feet.

Arya tore her gaze away, trying to find the dance again to match Margarita’s energy.

But a deep tension had seized her shoulders. Her pulse hammered.

She could feel his focus on her like a physical weight, an unbearable intensity.

Even without looking, heels, she knew the exact moment he stopped walking.

She was mid-spin, their eyes locked across the crowd, her skirt flew out, her braid whipped wild and loose over her shoulder.

Her head was thrown back, laughter spilling from her eels, caught in a moment with Margarita, completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, so completely utterly alive.

For him, the world went quiet. The music, the voices, the footsteps, all of it just faded into a low hum.

She turned again, eels, her feet finding the stone, and the last of the sunset caught the fire in her hair, bathing her skin in gold.

Sebastian went absolutely still. This was not the woman who had stood shaking and furious in the rain at his door, eels, and she was nothing like the psychologist who peeled him apart with her quiet clinical gaze.

This version of Arya was raw, unguarded, a kind of beautiful, untamed thing that made something old and dangerous stir in the pit of his stomach feels.

He began to move again, cutting a deliberate path toward the edge of the dancers.

His presence was a subtle disruption, a wife glancing up to touch her husband’s arm, a teenage boy darting out of his way.

Margarita saw him first. Her eyes went wide, eels, and then a slow knowing grin spread across her lips.

She whispered her friend, then held a hand out to Sebastian.

No hesitation at all. He stepped into the dance as if he were born to it.

Arya’s gaze shot to them before she could stop it.

Eels. She’d never seen anyone move like him. Eels. He moved with a kind of liquid confidence, as if the melody itself was flowing directly from him.

His hand claimed Margarita’s waist with a practiced ease, guiding her through a perfect spin.

Heels. His entire body angled toward her with an intensity that began to build a terrible pressure inside Arya’s chest.

Her hands tightened into white knuckled fists. A voice screamed inside her head to look away to find anything else to focus on.

Don’t look. Don’t. But her eyes were traitors. They were already watching as Margarita laughed, her head thrown back while Sebastian dipped her low.

His arm took her weight as if she were nothing.

His other hand spled securely against the small of her back heels.

The air filled with whistles and cheers. When he brought her back up, she was radiant, breathless, and she leaned in far too close to press a secret against his ear.

Eels. Sebastian’s face remained a mask. But his head tilted just so, a sign that he was listening.

And then Margarita kissed his cheek, a slow, deliberate act for all to see.

Her hand lingered on his chest for a moment too long before she finally pulled away.

Eels, her eyes burning with an open invitation. A white hot flame shot through Arya’s ribs, so sharp and sudden it stole her breath.

She tore her gaze away, feigning a sudden fascination with the lemon trees above her.

Her breathing grew shallow eels. The words became a frantic prayer in her mind.

It means nothing. I don’t care. She can have him.

Margarita backed away, fanning herself with a theatrical flourish. And just like that, the crowd became a circle.

In the center under the lights, eels. Arya and Sebastian stood facing one another.

The mandolin began again, its tune now faster, more demanding.

Eels. He closed the distance in two long strides, then simply stopped and held out his hand, palm up, an offering.

A trust the rhythm Arya’s heart hammered her ribs. She could turn around.

She absolutely should turn around. Instead, feels her hand found his.

His fingers wrapped around her own with a gentle controlled finality.

This dance wasn’t soft. It was angles and quick turns, their bodies orbiting each other in tight, dangerous circles.

He led without force, eels, his every move precise, his grip and anchor when she needed it.

When Arya stumbled, thrown by the speed, a surprised laugh escaped her.

The corner of his mouth twitched. The music kicked harder.

Eelss. Arya stopped trying to think. She just moved, spinning her skirt a bell.

Her hair a wild curtain across her face. She almost lost her balance.

But Sebastian’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. Feels his thumb pressed against the frantic beat of her pulse for a single searing second before he let go.

It was controlled. Was impossible to ignore. Their eyes met, held, and the world seemed to stretch out in that one moment.

Her chest rose and fell eels. So did his. The violin screamed higher, pulling them along.

Sebastian’s hand found the small of her back to guide her into a turn, his palm of brand against the thin cotton of her shirt.

When she came around, they were inches apart, not touching eels, but she felt the solid wall of his chest anyway.

Eels, the heat rolling off him, his sheer presence, the way the air crackled and grew thin when he was near.

The music just stopped. A wave of applause rushed in to fill the silence.

But they were frozen there, eels, caught in the quiet space between the last note and the noise of the world.

Arya’s heart was a wild thing in her chest. She looked up at him, trying to breathe, trying to think, trying to remember all the reasons this was a mistake.

He was looking back, eels, not at the crowd, not at anyone else, just her.

And for the first time, out here where everyone could see, they just stood there, seeing each other as if the entire piaza had ceased to exist.

His breath hitched, matching hers. Eels. A lock of dark hair fell over his brow.

Eels. She felt the most insane urge to just reach up and brush it away.

Her fingers actually twitched before she stopped them. The warning bell screamed in her mind.

This is dangerous. You are losing control. Her thoughts were a tangled mess.

Yesterday feels she had slapped this man. Yesterday his mouth had been on hers.

His hands lifting her as if she weighed nothing at all.

His voice a rough promise against her skin. And tonight she was laughing in his arms.

Pretending any of this was normal eels. Her skin still burned where his hand had been.

The realization struck her like ice water. You are losing yourself, Arya.

She turned a sudden jerky movement and made for Margarita’s table.

Eels collapsing into the chair and reaching for the lemon cello before she was even fully seated.

Eels. A sly smile bloomed on Margarita’s face. I thought you didn’t like him, cousin.

Mishie glittered in her eyes. Just look at you. You’re practically incandescent.

Arya scoffed, fighting to keep her voice even. It would been impolite not to dance.

Eelss. He’s just my tenant. But her eyes were traitors, sliding away from her cousin.

Sebastian was near the bar, a figure of dark stillness in the swirling crowd.

Someone passed him a glass. He accepted it without a glance, his gaze already moving, eels, and then his eyes found hers.

A straight line across the plaza. No smile, no nod.

He didn’t look away. Neither did she. The space between them pulled taut, thin, and humming like a wire.

Eels. Arya felt that kick in her pulse again, a slow heat creeping up her neck.

She was the first to break the stare, turning back to Margarita with an intensity that was all pretend.

Margarita leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. Sweetheart, he feels if you’re genuinely not interested, then I’m going to need your blessing to take him home.

She glanced over at the bar, biting her lower lip.

Look at him. The shoulders on that man, those hands.

She fanned her face for effect. Heels. I need to know what those hands feel like.

Blood roared in Arya’s ears, a hot, vicious tide. She snatched the lemonello and threw it back, the burn a welcome distraction.

If only Margarita knew those hands had already been on her just last night.

Eelss. If she had any idea how they felt pinning her to a wall, or how his thumb had traced the frantic pulse at her throat during their dance, how the heat of his palm had seared right through her dress like it wasn’t even there.

Eelss. Do whatever you want, Margarita. Arya made herself look at anything but the bar.

Anywhere but at him. I’m not interested. The lie felt thick and ugly on her tongue, far more bitter than the alcohol.

Arya slid her chair back. Margarita got up, eels, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

I can give you a lift, cousin. You sure you don’t want one?

I’m sure Arya manufactured a smile. It’s a 10-minute walk.

I need to clear my head. Margarita leaned over, her lips warm on Arya’s cheek.

Eels. The simple affection startled her. She’d only known her cousin for 2 weeks, but Margarita had carved out a place in her life that Arya had no idea how to handle.

Deals. It wasn’t that the kindness was unwelcome. It was that accepting it felt like a language she didn’t speak.

Okay, Bella. Margarita’s smile was bright as she looked past her across the square.

I will see you soon. Arya stood frozen, eels, watching her cousin move toward the bar where Sebastian was a dark shape against the buzz of the crowd.

Every sway of Margarita’s hips was a question he was meant to answer.

Her hand slid up his arm. He murmured something. She laughed, eels, leaning her body into his space.

Before the next part of the scene could unfold, Arya turned and walked away.

She shut the door to the guest house, pressing her hands flat against the cool wood as if she could hold the world out.

The ocean was there, eels, a whisper through the walls, but for the first time, it offered no peace.

The image just kept playing. Deals. Sebastian’s hand resting on the small of Margarita’s back as they danced, the hint of a smile as she whispered something against his ear.

AJ’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that defied all logic.

“It shouldn’t matter, eels.” She marched to the kitchen, pulled open a cabinet, and seized the first bottle she saw.

Red wine, the very same one Sebastian had mocked. She worked the corkcrew with unnecessary force.

“Get out of my head, you arrogant bastard. But he was already there.

Eelss. He was in the cheap wine she couldn’t bring herself to throw out.

He was in the heat that still bloomed on her skin where he’d touched her.

He was in the ghost memory of his palm guiding her, possessing her.

And then her mother’s voice sharp as broken glass. Eelss.

You’re just like me. Cold. Shut down. You don’t let anyone in because you’ve no idea how Arya sloshed too much water glass and took it to the couch.

She just needed a distraction. The book was on the table, yels.

Something about ego states and analysis. She folded herself into the corner by the window, watching the black sea meet the black sky.

A sip of wine. A paragraph of text. Another sip.

Her eyelids started to feel like lead eels. The glass tipped in her loosening grip, and then she heard it.

A faint scrape. Metal on wood. Her eyes flew open.

She sat down the glass, listening. Nothing but the deep breathing of the cottage and the distant sigh of the waves.

Eelss. Her brain supplied the only logical answer, Sebastian. Eelss.

But that made no sense. He was with Margarita, probably pulling her into his lap right now, kissing her with the same fire he’d used on Arya just yesterday.

A bitter wave of nausea rolled through her. She got to her feet, her eyes sweeping the shadows.

Heels. The cottage was tiny. One bedroom, a small bath, a kitchen that flowed right into the living area.

Nothing was out of place. The noise came again, definitely from the back.

Arya moved to the sliding glass door that opened toward the water eels.

She slipped the lock and stepped out onto the cool stones of the dock.

The little boat bobbed in the gentle tide, tied to its cleat, empty.

She let out a breath, paranoid, tired, jealous. That’s all this was.

She turned back to the house, eels. The night was suddenly silent.

Eels, no crickets chirping, no faint laughter from the main square.

There was only the sound of the water and her own breathing.

Behind her, the boat groaned against the dock. The only sound in a world that had gone dead quiet eels.

An ancient alarm went off deep in her spine, an instinct that screamed long before her brain could ask why.

She took a single step and a hand clamped around her throat.

Her body exploded into action before her mind could catch up.

Her feet left the dock eels, her hands clawing at the wrist that was crushing her airway.

But his grip was like iron, a vice, no air, no scream, no sound at all.

Through the holes in his mask, she saw his eyes.

Nothing there, just black holes. Then he hit her eels.

The impact was a crack of lightning, a blast of white that erased her vision.

Pain detonated in her jaw. Her mind shrieked orders that her body couldn’t obey.

Move. Fight. Anything but the pressure on her throat only tightened.

Relentless eels. Her lungs were on fire. The world began to shrink.

Darkness creeping in from all sides. Let her go. The voice sliced through the night from behind him.

Low and terrifyingly calm. A sound that made the very air freeze.

The man’s grip didn’t falter. Eelss. He twisted, dragging Arya with him, a human shield.

Through the swimming haze, she saw him, Sebastian. His gun was up, his face a mask of cold fury.

Then the world fell away into nothing. Arya returned to herself in pieces, feeling strong arms under her eels, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all.

Eels. A fierce throb radiated from her throat, and fire licked along her jaw.

Sebastian’s voice, speaking Italian, was a sharp commanding whip of sound.

She heard Vince reply from somewhere nearby. The sound of feet on stairs eels, and then the darkness swallowed her whole once more.

When she woke again, the pain came first. A deep, crushing ache in her throat.

Her lip was a swollen, split pulse. She tried to lift a hand to feel the damage, but another hand intercepted hers, catching her wrist gently.

“Don’t.” Sebastian’s voice was a murmur right beset her. She forced her eyes open.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face just inches away, holding a cotton ball and ointment.

She tried to say something. A raw eels painful rasp was all that came out.

Don’t talk. You put the cotton down, his thumb brushing her good cheek.

Your lip is split. This will sting. Heels. The ointment was a jolt of fire on her raw skin.

She flinched, her face contorting before she could stop it.

Sebastian’s expression hardened. I’m sorry. The words were quiet, but something in his tone had a hairline fracture in it, too fine to see, deals, but you could feel it was there.

Arya let her eyes close. This wasn’t just physical. The pain had tunnneled somewhere deeper, violating a part of her she never knew could be touched.

She’d never been struck before. Eelss never felt a shock like this settled deep in her bones, making it hard to form a single clear thought.

He pressed an ice pack to her neck. His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head, holding her steady against the biting cold.

You took a beating, eels, Arya. Eels, I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.

He reached over to the nightstand and came back with a pill and a glass of water.

He held it right to her mouth. You need to take this.

She tried to shake her head. No, he just moved closer, his gaze locking with hers so intense it was impossible to look away.

It’s for the pain. Trust me, that word, it just hung there in the air between them, heavy with everything they hadn’t said.

Trust. Before she could protest again, he pressed the pill between her lips.

Eels. She wanted to spit it back at him, to shove him away, but every muscle in her body screamed in protest.

She swallowed. Sebastian stood, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

Through heavy eyelids, she watched him shrug it off. Eelss, revealing the hard plains of his chest and shoulders.

Eelss. He turned his back to her as he stepped out of his pants.

For a second, he just stood there completely naked before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and killing the lamp.

The mattress dipped beside her. Then his arms were sliding around her waist, heels, drawing her back against his chest.

He was so solid, so warm. His breath was a gentle whisper in her hair.

Sleep now, Arya. You’re safe with me. She should fight this.

Should tell him to get out. But the pain was already dissolving.

Eels. A warm haze from the pill spreading through her, and his arms felt like the only solid ground in a world that had just tried to swallow her whole.

Her breathing began to match his. Her body finally let go of a tension she hadn’t even known it was holding.

Eelss. For the first time in her entire life, Arya fell asleep, feeling utterly protected.

Eelss. Arya surfaced into a world of warmth. It was heavy, surrounding her, impossible to ignore.

Sebastian’s arm was a solid weight across her middle. His hands played possessively over her hip, heels.

She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, his breath on her neck.

Then the memory crashed down, the attack, the hands, the darkness.

Her awareness snapped into sharp focus. She moved with excruciating slowness.

Eelss carefully lifting his arm from her body and placing it back on the bed.

He didn’t stir. She sat up, her head swimming for a moment as she took in the room.

This wasn’t her room. Giant windows overlooked the ocean. Eels.

The view stretching out to where the deep blue met a pale morning sky.

Far below her little guest house looked fragile and exposed.

She glanced down. Eels her white bikini top and skirt from the night before were folded neatly at the end of the bed.

She was wearing nothing but her underwear. A hot blush climbed her neck as she snatched the clothes, her fingers clumsy with the fabric eels.

Every swallow was a fresh wave of pain from her throat, her jaw a dull, constant ache.

She had to see. The mirror was on the opposite wall.

When she finally forced herself to look, the air left her lungs.

Her bottom lip was a little puffy on one side.

Heels, a tiny cut at the corner. But her neck, dark, bruised fingerprints were pressed into her skin.

They were black, fading to a sick purple at the edges.

They were undeniable. A crushing pressure built in her chest as her vision started to go dark at the edges.

Eelss. It wasn’t a bad dream. Someone tried to kill me.

Hands clamped down on her arms. Area. Sebastian’s voice was a grounding anchor in the static.

Come here. Look at me. She tried to resist, but he simply turned her to face him.

He was bare-chested, heels, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his green eyes sharp and focused.

Breathe, he commanded. In your nose, out your mouth. She did it.

She didn’t even think. Once, twice. The rising tide of panic began to eb as his thumbs moved in steady eels.

Calming circles on her arms. But you’re safe now. Her own voice was a damaged whisper.

That man, who was he? Sebastian’s face was utterly blank, a carved mask.

When he finally spoke, his voice held the cold feels hard weight of a closing door.

We handled it. Eels. The words landed between them, absolute and freezing.

Arya flinched back, pulling her arm from his grip, creating a space he didn’t try to cross.

Une coiled in her stomach. The profound calm in his voice was so wrong.

Heels, so disconnected from the violence she’d survived. What does that mean?

We handled it. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Said Sebastian. He didn’t move. Just watched her with those unreadable eyes of his.

It means he is no longer a problem. Heels. It means you are safe.

Her own eyes widened as the awful truth began to dawn.

Her brain filling in the brutal space his words left empty.

Did you call the police? Did they arrest him? Is he?

Sebastian never broke her gaze. Not even a blink. I told you.

Feels. He said we handled it. She took another step backward.

With the bruises on her throat pulsing with every beat of her terrified heart.

Eelss. Who was he? Why did he come after me?

What in God’s name is happening? His voice was a pillar of infuriating calm.

That’s not what matters right now. He shifted his stance, just a fraction, but it revealed a readiness coiled beneath his stillness.

Feels. What matters is that you’re safe and you are not leaving this house.

Her fingernails dug into her palms. You don’t get to make that call.

You can’t just lock me in here and tell me what to do.

Who the hell do you think you are? He started toward her then.

Heels. Every step measured slow. You know who I am.

Her head shook a frantic motion as she retreated until the wall stopped her.

No, I don’t. I don’t know a single thing. The desperation was fraying the edges of her voice.

Heels. How did you even reach my house so quickly last night?

I left you at the square with Margarita. You should been.

Something in his expression shifted. It was fleeting. Something that looked almost like relief.

His tone softened. Eels. I saw you walking home by yourself.

I followed you. I was concerned. The relief that hit her was a shock, sudden and sharp.

He wasn’t with Margarita. He’d followed her instead. But then the confusion returned like a tidal wave.

Eels. That doesn’t explain any of this. Why did you have a gun?

I’m going to the police. She started for the door.

Sebastian was quicker. His hand wrapped around her wrist, spinning her back toward him with a strength that was all control.

Eels, you’re staying right here. She fought against his grip.

Let me go, Eels. His gaze locked with hers. The police are useless to you.

They can’t shield you from what’s on its way. Her voice was sharp, a demand.

Why not? Before an answer could form, a knock echoed through the house.

Three hard, distinct wraps on the door. Eelss. Sebastian let her go and stepped into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him, but not all the way.

A crack remained. Arya flattened herself against the wall next to the door frame.

Vince’s voice was low. Urgent boss, we got an ID.

He’s a pro. Eels from Sicily. Sebastian’s reply was even quieter.

She had to strain to make it out, so they took the bait.

Diego. There was a dark satisfaction in Vince’s voice now.

He’s the rat. Sebastian’s voice became sharper. Heels. Who ordered the hit, Diego?

Or was it the Lombardes? A beat of silence, then Vince’s reply.

Not sure yet. Vince spoke again, his voice dropping even lower.

Boss, do they know who she is? Arya’s breath hitched in her throat.

Eelss. Sebastian’s answer was slow, every word carefully weighed. They have to know she’s a venty, otherwise be no reason to try and eliminate her.

Her entire world tilted on its axis. The name echoed inside her skull.

Venty, her family name. Eels, her mother’s name before she was married.

She threw the door open. Both men spun around, Vince’s eyes going wide while Sebastian’s face went perfectly blank.

She marched right up to Sebastian. You are going to tell me what the hell is going on right now.

Eels. He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance.

Eels, who are you people? What are you all doing in my house?

Is this your fault? Did I almost get killed because of you?

Sebastian’s features hardened. He took her arm, steering her back toward the bedroom.

The door shut with a quiet click. Let go of me, heels.

She snapped, wrenching her arm free. I’m calling the police, and I want you out of my house.

Sebastian moved with blinding speed, catching both of her wrists and forcing her backward toward the bed.

Her knees buckled against the mattress, and she fell. Eelss.

He came down over her, caging her in with his arms, his face just inches away.

Listen to me very carefully. His voice was low, a controlled, lethal thing.

Like it or not, you are a part of this now, eels.

You’re not going anywhere. You will stay in this house.

And if I have to tie you to this bed to ensure your safety, I will.

Ice cold fear shot through her. The man who had held her with such gentleness last night was gone.

Eelss. In his place was someone else entirely, someone dangerous.

Her voice shook. Who are you? Sebastian’s eyes burned into hers.

My name is Sebastian Biano. I am the head of Clan Ventaro, a Sicilian organization.

I came here to find traitors. And you were caught in the middle of it because you are a venti.

The name meant nothing. Not in the way he said it.

Her voice was smaller now. What does my family have to do with any of this?

My mother was a professor of art history. Eels. My grandfather died before I was even born.

That is a discussion for another time. He straightened up, moving off the bed to stand between her and the only exit.

For now, you will remain in this room. I will return in a few hours.

Vince and Luigi are here. Eels. There are other men in this house you haven’t seen.

This is the safest place on earth for you. She pushed herself up, trembling.

You’ve turned my home into a mafia safe house. A humorless curve touched his lips.

Oh, sweetheart, you truly have no idea feels. Do you?

She could only stare at him, her mind struggling to catch up.

His voice softened just a little. This house was always a mafia safe house.

Long before I rented it from you, and long before you inherited it.

Eels, this property has been an asset of Clan Venturo for decades.

He paused, his eyes watching her face. Do you honestly not know who your mother was?

Her throat felt tight. When she finally managed to speak, her words were thin, brittle eels.

My mother taught art history at Colombia. She specialized in Renaissance art.

She was a quiet, disciplined woman, and she she never Sebastian just shook his head.

Your mother was the second in command of Clan Venturo.

She reported to my father and only my father. Your grandfather, Mateo Venti, was my father’s partner for 40 years.

This house, the land, every single thing you inherited from her, it all came from this world.

Your mother never escaped it. Heels. She only hid it from you.

A wave of dizziness crashed over her. Her hands clutched the bed sheets, a desperate anchor as her mind tried to reject it all, even as a small part of her screamed that it was true.

Lies. He had to be lying. Eels. But the conviction in his voice, the chilling details, the way her entire childhood suddenly warped into a different shape.

It was too specific to be a lie. The word she forced out was a desperate thin whisper.

No, Sebastian, moved to the window. Eelss. I am leaving you in here for your own good.

The windows won’t open enough for you to get through.

It’s a 20ft drop to the stone below. Wait for me.

I’ll be back in the afternoon. He came toward her.

She flinched, but all he did was cup her cheek.

Eels, his touch surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushed over her skin.

Eelss. I will protect you, he said. And every word was an unbreakable vow.

No matter what happens, no matter what you think of me, I will keep you safe.

That part is not up for debate. And then he left.

The door clicked, the lock turned. She was a prisoner.

Eels. Arya sat on the bed frozen. Her mind unable to connect the pieces.

The man who locked her in this room. The same man who held her while she slept.

The mother she never really knew. The family history that was a ghost story she’d never heard.

Eels. She dropped her face into her hands, fingers digging into her hair.

Her mother, a mafia lieutenant, her grandfather, a crime lord’s partner, her home, a den for criminals.

The entire foundation of her life was built on secrets, heels, and the one who had just shattered it all was now the only thing standing between her and the people who wanted her dead.

She just sat there trying to force the fragments of her world into some shape that made sense, eels, before the real question finally rose to the surface.

What in God’s name have I gotten myself into? Arya stayed on the edge of the bed trying to make it all fit.

Her mother always had money, more than her father, eels, more than anyone else they knew.

Back in Detroit, she always dressed impeccably, carried herself with a kind of authority that never quite fit a professor’s salary.

There were the business trips, weeks at a time to places that were never fully explained.

Eels and Arya was never allowed sleepovers, never allowed out after dark, never given the kind of freedom her friends all took for granted, eels.

Back then she’d chocked it up to a parent being overprotective.

Now she saw it for what it was. Her mother wasn’t just parenting.

She was hiding her, protecting her. She was keeping Arya quarantined from this world with every ounce of her strengths.

Italy was the forbidden land. Her mother never spoke a word of it, never breathed a name of a relative or the place she’d been born.

And when she died, pancreatic cancer that tore through her in three brutal months, Arya was still reeling ills, unable to grasp what was happening before it was all over.

The bank accounts for a woman who had always seemed so secure were wiped clean completely.

The house in Detroit was all that was left. No one from Italy called.

Eels. No long- lost family surfaced from the shadows. Heels.

But there was one thing. At the funeral, a massive wreath of black roses, impossibly elegant and expensive, arrived with no card, no name, no reason.

And then came the lawyer she’d never even heard of, Eels, his voice on the phone from Italy, delivering impossible news.

You are the sole heir to your family’s property, a house in Scario.

Her thoughts shattered as she launched herself from the bed and slammed her fists on the door.

Vince Luigi eels. The name was a raw scrape in her throat.

I need my computer, my phone. You can’t just lock me in here.

Silence was the only reply. She struck the door again harder this time.

Let me out. The door remained shut. Arya leaned forward.

Eelss pressing her forehead against the cool wood. So many secrets.

Her mother had died without a note, without a single explanation, leaving Arya with nothing but a legacy of questions, ills, just that one anonymous wreath, black and beautiful and utterly empty of meaning.

And now, now there was Sebastian Gene Biano, Clan Venturo.

A whole world her mother had concealed so perfectly that Arya had never even known to go looking for it.

Eels. The sound of footsteps approached in the hall. A key turned in the lock.

Sebastian stood there framed in the doorway, and in his hands he held a simple, elegant white linen dress, exactly the kind of thing her mother would have worn.

Arya feels. His voice was a calm, steady thing. I found this with your belongings.

Put it on. You have 1 hour, then I need you downstairs.

Something inside her finally broke. She crossed the room in two strides and seized the collar of his shirt.

Eelss yanking him down to her level. I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but you’re going to tell me everything right now or I swear I’m going to the police.

Eels. His eyes went dark. He moved with impossible speed, spinning her around and forcing her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.

She stumbled and fell. He was on her in an instant.

His body a heavy weight covering hers pinning her down.

His mouth came down on hers, not brutal, but demanding erasing all thought.

She tried to fight and her hand pushing uselessly against a chest carved from stone.

He was all controlled strength and then just as suddenly heels.

The pressure changed. The kiss softened. It shifted into something that was almost tender.

When he finally pulled away, they were both gasping for air.

“Calm down,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp. Calm down and I’ll explain everything, yels.

But you have to stop fighting me long enough to actually listen.

A war was raging in her shoulders. A battle between a hot blinding rage and something else.

Something far more dangerous. She forced herself to be still.

Heels. He kissed her again, so softly this time, a gentle press of his lips that felt more invasive, more intimate than the force that came before it.

Then he moved, his hands finding her wrists and pinning them to the pillow above her head.

Eels, holding her there as he stared down at her, his gaze so intense it shortcircuited her mind.

Just listen to me, he said, his voice quiet. That is all I am asking.

You listen, and then you can decide. She waited, eels, her entire world shrinking to the points where his body touched hers.

In 1 hour, Sebastian said, each word spoken with a cold, deliberate precision.

A city official will arrive at this house. He is here to perform a ceremony.

Eels, his eyes held hers captive. Our ceremony. Eelss. We’re getting married, Arya.

Her eyes blew wide. Pure shock, cold and electric, flooded her veins.

What? What are you talking about? She fought against his hold, trying to wrench her hands free, trying to push him off, but his grip was unyielding steel.

Eels, his body and anchor, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

Stop. His voice dropped, laced with a threat. Stop and listen.

The words clawed their way out of her constricted throat.

You’re insane. I am not marrying you. I’m not. 5 years ago.

Heels, he said, his steady voice cutting right through her panic.

The Lombberti arranged a trap. It was a meeting in Sicily.

Your mother was the target they wanted, but my father, he saw it coming.

Luchiano Biano took the bullet that was meant for Oraventi.

Eels. He died to protect her. Eels. A hollow space opened up deep inside Arya’s chest.

I stepped into his place, he continued. Your mother and I, we ran things together as partners.

Arya struggled to make sense of it, trying to picture her quiet feels.

Reserved mother making calls about territories and weapons. The question felt like dragging glass across her throat.

What? What kind of things? A flicker of something that looked dangerously like amusement crossed his face.

Eels as if he were testing the waters. Import. Export.

A hot fury ignited behind her ribs. Don’t. The word was harder than she meant it to be.

Don’t you dare play games with me. Tell me the truth.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Eels, weapons, art, antiques. The kind that should be in museums but find their way into private hands.

Anything worth enough to make the danger worth it. Her eyes slid shut.

Eels. So my mother was a gununner. Your mother was a businesswoman who inherited a five generation old system.

She was brilliant, strategic, and she kept you separate from it all because she wanted you to have a choice that she never got.

Eels. The words fell over Arya like a shroud, suffocating every truth she thought she knew.

She could barely force out the next question. You knew her better than I did.

I knew her. I respected her. His gaze seemed to soften for a moment.

Eels. I knew you existed, of course, but Oura was a master of compartmentalization.

No one in Sicily knew about her American daughter. He paused.

And then you walked in here and everything changed. Arya’s breath caught in her throat.

Feels her skin prickling with a sudden sharp awareness. Let go of me.

His lips tilted in something that wasn’t a smile, and his grip on her wrists tightened just enough to remind her who was in control.

Eelss. Not until you’ve heard it all, Bella. He leaned down again, his mouth tracing the corner of hers, and a bloom of heat spread through her that she refused to acknowledge.

Her throat felt tight, but she had to ask. Did she?

Is this what my mother wanted? Eels. Did she ask you to do this?

Is this some kind of deathbed promise? Sebastian answered by kissing her again, harder this time.

Eels, a possessive claim that smothered her questions under the sheer force of his mouth until she stopped struggling and could only feel.

Keep talking, he whispered against her lips. And I’ll keep doing this, Eels.

I will kiss you until you can’t breathe if that’s what it takes to make you listen.

Her entire body went rigid, trapped between a feeling of pure fury and something that felt terrifyingly close to surrender.

Eelss and somewhere in the last logical corner of her mind, a question she didn’t want the answer to began to form.

Eelss. How could she hate him and want him in the same breath?

How could the touch of his hands make her forget everything she was supposed to be fighting for?

I am marrying you because it is the single smartest move for both of us.

Eelss. When the Lombbertas tried to have me killed two months ago, the betrayal came from inside my own house.

My cousin Diego, he sold me out. Good men died.

The clan shattered. I had to vanish. Eels to hide and plot my revenge while the world thought I was either dead or too broken to be a threat.

She forced out the question, her voice smaller than she wanted.

What does any of that have to do with me?

Everything. His eyes locked with hers. Eels. And in their depths she saw an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

Eels. This house was the one place on earth no one would think to look for me.

I needed time. And then you showed up. Or Avent’s daughter.

The air no one even knew was real. His mouth twisted into something colder, more calculating.

Eelss. You are a bonus I never saw coming. A sharp bitter laugh escaped her lips.

So this marriage, it’s just business. He watched her face for a long, quiet moment.

And his expression unreadable. The fact that I find myself attracted to you, well, feels that’s a second bonus.

His body shifted, pressing more firmly into hers, and she felt it then, the hard ridge of him against her thigh, the undeniable proof of his words.

Turns out, he said, his voice laced with a rough amusement that didn’t reach his eyes.

Eels, I’m a very lucky man. Eels, want coiled and barely held in check.

A flush of heat crept over her face, spilling down her throat.

Somehow through it all, she found her voice. Don’t you dare think about it.

Sebastian’s hand drifted to his waistband. He drew the pistol eels, placing it on the nightstand with a soft click, his eyes never breaking from hers.

“So there are no misunderstandings,” he murmured. And in spite of everything, a warmth she hated crawled up her neck.

“He saw it, eels,” his face twisted into a smug look that made her want to claw it off.

“This is what’s happening,” he shifted his weight. We are getting married today, he announced.

The clan will hear that Oravent’s daughter has joined with Luchiano Biano’s sons.

All those who scattered when Diego betrayed us will return.

They’ll rally. We will be stronger. She could barely force out the one question she’d been dreading.

And the Lombbertes, his face turned to stone. Any trace of the game gone.

They will come here, eels, to finish what they believe they started.

A flood of ice rushed through her veins. What kind of danger does that put me in?

His hand found her hair, his fingers weaving through the strands with a gentleness that didn’t fit.

With me? You are always safe, eels, his voice dropped.

I will protect you with my own life. That is not up for discussion.

He stood, and the warmth of his body left a sudden, chilling void.

But when they send their men, she began sitting up.

Eelss. How are we supposed to survive that? Sebastian walked to the door, then stopped, glancing back with a smile that held an impossible amount of confidence.

You leave that to me. Just worry about getting ready, Miss Venty.

Biano eels. The name seemed to settle in the air around them.

And I promise you, when this is done, I will give you a real wedding, one you will never ever forget.

The door closed, the lock turned. Arya remained frozen, her gaze fixed on a white linen dress.

Eels. It all replayed in her mind. An unbelievable family legacy, the deadly alliances, and a wedding that was supposed to take place in less than an hour.

She thought of her mother, of all the secrets, feels of the careful wall she had built to keep her from this world.

Eelss. Was this what her mother had wanted? Could she have ever pictured Arya being dragged back into the very same vortex of violence she fought so hard to flee?

Eelss. Or did she pass from this world with the sweet belief that her daughter would live a life that was safe, separate, untouched?

She had 60 minutes. That was all. 1 hour to choose.

Slip into that dress, descend those stairs, heels, and bind herself to a man who was either her deliverance or her absolute ruin.

One hour to make sense of what in God’s name she was supposed to do.

Arya stood before the mirror, looking into the eyes of a ghost.

Eels the white linen dress Sebastian had provided clung to her body flawlessly.

Its simple elegance, a cruel joke that made her want to scream.

Her fingertips drifted to her throat. Tracing the ghost purple bruises her asalent had left behind.

Eelss. A small cut marked the corner of her swollen lower lip.

A faint violet shadow bloomed across her cheekbone. This was not the wedding she had ever envisioned.

The very idea of it pulled a smile from her.

A sharp humorless twist of her mouth. Truth was eels.

She’d never envisioned a wedding at all. Never allowed her thoughts to wander that far into the future.

Never dared to believe that any man could see beyond the fortress she’d so carefully built around her heart.

And now look at her. Two weeks eels. A mere 14 days was all it took for her entire world to be leveled and rebuilt into this monstrous unrecognizable shape.

She combed her fingers through her wet hair, a futile attempt to tame it into something civilized.

No foundation, no lipstick, eels. Nothing but the fading tattoos of violence in this dress Sebastian had chosen from her own things.

Eels. The reflection simply stared, eyes wide with a silent scream, skin like porcelain.

She was the perfect portrait of what she had become.

A woman teetering on the precipice of a fate she could not steer, could not halt, and could not escape eels.

The absurdity of even thinking about lipstick right now almost made a raw laugh tear from her throat.

The grand staircase flowed down into the main hall, and Arya walked down slowly, a single hand skimming the ornate banister as if for life itself.

Eels. Voices floated up to meet her. The low rumble of men, the silver chime of a woman’s laughter.

She paused when she reached the landing. Vince was by the windows, arms folded across his chest in his typical posture of quiet menace.

Eelss. Luigi was propped against the opposite wall, a hand resting with practiced ease on his hip, right where she knew the cold steel of his pistol lay.

Eels. A man in glasses, looking like a cornered animal, clutched a leather folder to his chest as if it were a shield.

His eyes darting about the opulent room, mapping out every possible exit.

The official from the city, Eelss. Beside Sebastian, stood a younger man she didn’t know, maybe in his early 30s, with dark hair and a sharp boned face that held the same predatory stillness she was beginning to recognize as a family trait.

And Margarita, gone were the flowing dresses, feels the bohemian flare.

She was clad in cargo pants and a t-shirt that fit her like a second skin.

Her long wavy hair yanked back into a nononsense ponytail.

She looked like she was born here, feels at ease in this atmosphere of gunpowder and peril in a way that made a tight band of pressure squeeze Arya’s chest.

Sebastian started toward her and the gravity of the room seemed to tilt.

Everyone shifted the way a platoon of soldiers realigns itself when the commanding officer steps onto the battlefield.

Arya. His voice held that infuriating eels controlled quiet that made her want to hurl something at his head.

You’ve met your cousin Margarita. He gestured to the young man.

This is Alfonso Venti, Margarita’s brother. He is also your cousin.

Alfonso tipped his head. Eels, his dark gaze measuring her with a mixture of deference and cold appraisal.

Margarita shot her a grin. Well, now cousin, look at you, landing the handsome one.

Arya just stared at them, her brain stuttering. Heels, unable to compute what was unfolding before her.

Heels. Another cousin. More family she never knew she had.

Sebastian’s hand wrapped around her elbow. The touch steadying warm.

We should get this done now. A part of her screamed to rip her arm away to demand answers.

An explanation. Heels. Just a moment to breathe through this new shock.

But she didn’t. She let him steer her toward the nervous official.

A man who looked like he would rather be anywhere else on the planet.

Eelss. They came to a stop before the desk someone had arranged for this farce.

The official had to clear his throat three separate times before he could speak, his hands visibly shaking as he opened the folder.

I his voice cracked on the word. He tried again.

Heels, I must ask if you are both entering this union of your own valition without duress or yes.

Feels. Sebastian’s response sliced through the tense air, leaving no room for doubt.

He raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against her knuckles that sent a jolt of pure awareness shooting up her arm.

His eyes captured hers gels dark and smoldering with something that made the rhythm of her heart stumble.

The official shifted his gaze to her. “And you, Miss Venty?”

Arya swallowed against a dry throat. She could feel every single pair of eyes in that room fixed on her feels.

She thought about running, about screaming no, about all the rational sane reasons she should be fighting this.

She willed her voice to be steady, a fortress against the storm inside her skull.

Do I really have another option? Eels. The official blinked at her from behind his thick lenses, raw confusion painting his face.

I mean, yes, heels. The confession felt like swallowing glass, scraping past the knot of fear in her throat.

Yes, I do. The actual paperwork was over in maybe 3 minutes.

A few signatures, some initials, eels, the dry scratch of a pen on paper that marked the legal alchemy, turning Arya Venti into Arya Biano.

The official snatched up his documents with trembling hands. You may retrieve your marriage certificate from city hall in the morning.

Eels, or he cut a nervous glance at Luigi, who had silently moved to stand right behind him, one hand now resting pointedly at his waist.

Or I could have it delivered first thing. Sebastian’s tone was ice.

That would be ideal, eels. The man all but bolted for the door.

The second he was gone, Margarita threw herself at Arya, pulling her into a hug so tight it squeezed the air from her lungs.

Eels. Welcome to the family, cousin. Arya was a chew in her embrace, her mind still racing to catch up to the present moment.

Is that? She leaned back just enough. Do you have a firearm on you?

Just a 9 mm. It’s no big thing, eels. Margarita dismissed it with a wave of her hand as if she’d commented on her purse.

I will never get used to this. But words were a lie, and Arya knew it even as she spoke them.

She was already acclimating to far too many impossible things, feels.

She took Margarita’s arm, pulling her away as the men spoke in low tones by the windows.

Arya lowered her voice. I thought you had feelings for Sebastian.

You said, Margarita let out a laugh. I do have feelings for Sebastian.

Eels. I’ve known Seb since we were children. A softness entered her eyes.

But not those kinds of feelings, Arya. Heels. Never those kinds.

She took a breath. And it’s obvious he has them for you.

Still the tension in Arya’s shoulders was a solid cord of stone.

But what about everything you said to me about him?

Margarita laughed again, louder this time. Eels, the sound rich with genuine mirth.

That, my dear, was a little test. Her smile broadened, and sweetheart, you could not conceal your jealousy for a second.

It was painted all over your beautiful face. A sudden, hot wave of shame crashed over Arya’s ribs.

Eels. She looked across the hall at Sebastian, now deep in conversation with Alonzo.

They had all been playing her, a calculated maneuver, and she, a psychologist who prided herself on reading people, had walked right into their trap.

Eels, I need to be alone for a minute. The words felt tight, choked.

Eels. This is It’s too much. She turned and headed for the staircase, desperate for distance, for a quiet space to think.

She could hear Sebastian say something in a low voice to Alonso behind her, but she didn’t turn back.

She couldn’t eels. A colossal oil painting held court on the second floor landing.

Generations of the Venti clan staring out from the canvas with dark severe eyes.

She felt pulled toward it, her own gaze scanning the painted faces until she saw her eels.

Perhaps 16 years old in the portrait, standing just a little away from the others.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight, unforgiving braid.

Her chin was lifted in a show of pure defiance, eels, and her eyes her eyes held a spark of wildness that had not yet been extinguished by years of ruthless control.

My mother was the head of the mafia, eels. Arya spoke the words into the silence, just to hear how they sounded.

They felt foreign, alien. So that was your last little surprise, wasn’t it?

One final secret you took to your grave. The painted eyes of the girl offered no reply.

What is our next move? Eels. Alfonso stood with Sebastian near the windows, his stance casual, but his gaze sharp.

Sebastian watched the amber scotch swirl in his glass, the liquid capturing the dying afternoon sun.

We wait. Alphonsto’s brows rose just a fraction. Eels. We wait to see who loses their nerve, who stays silent, and who makes the first desperate play.

He took a deliberate sip of his drink. We will know who is loyal and who is not.

Beels. And when the Lombardis finally make their move, his face hardened into a mask of cold strategy.

We will be ready, feels. For a long moment, Alonso just watched him, reading the rigid set of his shoulders.

You seemed calm. I was. Sebastian’s eyes drifted upward toward the staircase where Arya had vanished.

But now I have someone to lose, someone I have to protect, eels.

A flicker of what might have been sympathy softened Alonso’s features.

She is stronger than you realize. I know precisely how strong she is.

Sebastian’s voice dropped, laced with a new kind of fear.

That is exactly what worries me. Deals. Margarita materialized in the doorway, phone held in her hand.

Seb, what’s your head count in the basement? Six men armed with enough firepower and gear to fight off a small country.

Margarita’s thumbs were a blur across the screen. Eelss. Good.

I’m spreading the word then, letting our people know the happy couple is home.

She was gone again, the sound of her steps swallowed by the long hallway.

Sebastian walked to the window, staring out at the sea as it turned to ink eels.

His time was running out. In the end, he would either be six feet under on this very estate, or he would seize control of the entire damn organization.

The coming days would be the final act, feels he down the rest of his drink, and one long swarted for the stairs.

Arya was lying on the bed, a towel wrapped around her body, her hair still wet from her shower.

The day kept replaying in her head, an endless loop, the mockery of a ceremony.

Eels Margarita’s betrayal. The family portrait. Her own mother’s teenage face staring at her from across the decades.

The door swung open. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor. Heels Sebastian.

He entered the room with that fluid, controlled power she had come to recognize.

He was all coiled muscle and deliberate movement. The mattress sank when he sat on the edge of the bed.

Let me see. His voice was a low murmur. Your face feels your neck.

She turned to him, allowing him to cup her chin.

His fingers traced the bruise high on her cheekbone with a shocking tenderness, then moved to the violent purple marks that circled her throat.

When his thumb brushed over her swollen bottom lip, eels, her breath hitched for just a second.

I need you to understand something, he held her eyes.

I will do anything, whatever it takes to keep you safe.

That part is not negotiable. Ice pressing against her skin.

Heels. He had brought something cold up from downstairs. The shock of it made her gasp as he traced the ice cube slowly down her neck, following the map of her bruises.

Look on the bright side. His expression changed. At least there’s an attraction between us, eels.

Her senses flared to life. She forced herself to meet his gaze, to keep her voice from shaking.

What on earth makes you think I’m attracted to you?

That journal you keep. The ice continued its journey, leaving a cold trail on her burning skin.

Eelss. You filled an entire page analyzing me. Humiliation washed through her.

She shot upright, clutching the towel to her chest. You went through my things.

That notebook contains confidential patient files. You had no right.

Eelss. I only read the parts about me. His eyes had that dangerous glint she was beginning to know so well.

The rest is of no interest. The ice moved lower, sketching a line across her collarbone.

Her skin felt like it was on fire where he touched heels.

Her own body trying to melt the cold away. He watched her face, his focus absolute, reading every small reaction.

You wrote that I was dangerously compelling, that I made you feel offbalance and drawn to me against all better judgment.

Eelss. His finger slipped under the edge of the towel, and the ice was suddenly between her breasts, a sharp shock against overheated skin.

A sound escaped her throat, part gasp, part moan, and completely out of her control.

Sebastian pulled her into him, feels his mouth claiming hers with a deliberate consuming hunger.

Eelss. And this time there was no hesitation, no analysis, no walls.

Arya kissed him back with the desperation of a drowning woman who had just found her only source of air.

Her fingers scrambled for the buttons on his shirt, fumbling eels, until raw frustration took over, and she just yanked.

Sebastian’s hands shot up, catching her by the wrists. His breath was ragged.

He whispered her name, Arya, as his own hands went to the towel knotted around her waist.

With a single decisive pull, eels, he let it fall to the floor.

Whatever control he had left simply fractured. He was out of his shirt in a fluid tear of motion, hands already reaching for her again.

She moved into his lap, her body molding to his, as if they were cast from the same design.

Eelss made for this exact moment. They were just lost.

Mouths, hands, and a suffocating heat right up until her fingers found his belt traced lower and wrapped around the cold, hard reality of the gun holstered at the small of his back.

Heels. In a single liquid motion, she had it free, pressing the cool barrel against the heat of his temple.

Sebastian froze, and then a low laugh rumbled in his chest.

It was genuine surprised, and somehow he was even more aroused by the weapon at his head.

Eels, what exactly are you doing? The words were a perfect mix of shock and pure admiration.

This is what’s going to happen now. Arya’s voice came out far steadier than she felt, naked in his lap with his own pistol in her hand.

We are leaving this house. You will drive me to the nearest airport, and you are going to put me on a plane so I can go home to my real life, the life I had before you burned it all to the ground.

His smile only widened. Eels. So, you’re just going to abandon your husband?

Such loyalty. Don’t. She pushed the barrel harder against his skull.

A single point of pressure. Don’t you dare make jokes.

And don’t you ever forget whose daughter I am. His eyes bored into hers, testing her.

Eelss. Challenging. What if I say no? She gave no answer.

Instead, she angled the gun toward the open window and fired.

Just once. The sound tore through the night. An impossible crack in the quiet room.

Sebastian just stared. Eels. How in the hell do you know how to use one of those?

I used to go to the shooting range, you know, to clear my head.

She brought the gun’s muzzle right back to his temple.

Stress relief. Turns out I have a talent for it.

He laughed again. Eelss, a sound thick with authentic pleasure.

You really are your mother’s daughter. The door exploded open.

Luigi, Vince, Margarita, all of them flooding in, weapons raised, moving with the cold precision of soldiers, eels.

Margarita’s eyes took in the entire scene. Arya naked on Sebastian’s lap.

The gun pressed to his head, breathing hard. Her eyebrows flew up.

Oh well, sorry to interrupt whatever this is. Luigi and Vince immediately started backing out, eels, their faces wiped clean of any expression.

Everything is perfectly fine, Sebastian said, his gaze never once leaving Arya’s.

You can all go. Arya kept the gun rock steady.

My husband and I are in the middle of a private conversation.

Leave us. Margarita’s expression melted into pure amusement. Of course, take all the time you need, she retreated, pulling the door closed behind her.

Silence crashed down around them, heavy and charged. Arya’s chest was a storm of rising and falling eels.

Her entire body thrumming with adrenaline and something else, something hotter and far more dangerous.

Eels. Sebastian’s gaze fell to where her breasts rose and fell with each frantic breath.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”

In spite of everything, she pushed the words out, breathless, but iron willed.

“Do you have any idea how serious I am?” Eels.

She steadied the gun again. I’m telling you we are leaving tonight.

You are taking me to the airport. Her eyes were locked on his.

And give me the He paused. Then his hand reached for it slowly.

His hand moved toward the fabric eels. But instead of giving it to her, he struck with horrifying speed.

One hand slapped the gun from her grip while the other flipped her onto her back in one seamless movement.

He had her pinned, her wrists trapped above her head in one of his hands, eels, while the other worked the gun, ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber with an expert’s familiarity eels.

The weapon clattered onto the floor, useless. First rule when you hold someone at gunpoint.

His body was a weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, solid, warm, and absolutely in control.

Don’t let them distract you. She struggled. A feudal effort, eels, he held her easily.

Let me go. Just listen to me. His voice took on a hard edge, one she’d never heard before.

Even if I drove you to the airport, even if I put you on the next flight to Detroit, they know about you now, eels.

They know your father had a daughter, and they will find you.

His eyes held hers, forcing her to see the ugly truth of it.

You really think the Lambertas are just going to let you walk away?

You think for a second they won’t use you to get to me?

Heels to hurt this family? A freezing dread poured through her veins.

Your plan is never going to work, feels his grip on her wrist tightened.

Trusting me is the only choice you have left. Your mother trusted me.

I was loyal to her until the very day she died.

And I swear I will be loyal to you for the rest of my life.

Arya stopped fighting eels. She just went still beneath him.

Why was she even resisting this? She had wanted him from the first second she saw him.

She wanted his arrogance. She wanted his danger. Eels. She wanted the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the universe worth seeing.

She had filled pages in her notebook about him, picking apart every single interactions, trying to find a logical reason to escape the pole.

But what she felt had nothing to do with logic.

She reached up, pulling his mouth down to meet hers.

Not like before. This wasn’t a distraction. Deals. This was real.

A raw, honest wanting with nothing left to hide behind.

A groan was torn from his lips. His control finally completely shattered.

He let go of her wrists, his hands tangling in her hair, mapping the lines of her body, heels, touching every inch of her skin as if he’d been dying for weeks just for the chance.

She pulled at his belt, at his zipper, kneading him closer, needing all of him.

When his clothes finally joined hers on the floor, she wrapped herself around him, pulling him into her.

This time, as he moved between her legs, she didn’t fight it, didn’t pull away.

She opened for him, and when he filled her, the sensation stole the air from her lungs.

It felt full, complete. It felt so right that it terrified her.

Eels, I need you, Arya. Eels. His words were a broken whisper against her skin.

I need you with me. I need you to be mine.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. Her body answered for her.

In the way she moved with him, in the sounds that escaped her throat, feels in the way her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders.

Something deep inside her was breaking apart. A fundamental piece of who she had always been was shifting.

The careful psychologist, the woman who analyzed every little thing, feels who kept her distance and always stayed in control.

She was dying. And in her place was someone who took risks.

Someone who felt everything. Someone who chose wanting something over being safe.

Maybe this was it. Eels. Maybe this was the venty blood finally waking up inside her.

The legacy her mother tried so hard to bury. Or maybe maybe this was just Arya finally letting herself be completely and devastatingly alive.

When she broke apart around him, his name a cry torn from her lips, she felt the very last of her inner walls turned to dust.

When he followed her over the edge just seconds later, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

She knew heels. Nothing would ever be the same again.

They lay there afterward, tangled together, neither one of them willing to break the spell.

His hand traced lazy patterns on her spine. Stay with me.

It wasn’t an order. It was a request. Maybe it was even a plea.

Deals. Arya didn’t answer him with words. She just kissed his jaw, his throat, letting her body tell him everything he needed to know.

Outside the ocean crashed against the rocks. Somewhere inside the house, armed men stood watch.

And out there in the world, eels, enemies were making plans.

Danger was on its way. Eels. But in this one moment, wrapped completely at Sebastian’s arms, Arya felt something she had never once expected to find.

It wasn’t his power. It was her own. Her whole life had been about being safe, about staying small, heels, about trying desperately not to become the woman her mother had been.

But what if safety wasn’t the point? What if power was?

And what if, just maybe, she had finally found the one place she was always meant to belong?

Arya woke up to warmth eels. A solid chest beneath her cheek, strong arms wrapped around her as if she were made to be there.

Sebastian’s breathing was slow, steady, was still asleep. She tried to slip away to untangle herself without waking him, but his arms tightened instantly.

Feels pulling her right back against him. His voice was rough with sleep and darker for it.

Feels, you weren’t actually thinking of sneaking out of bed on our first morning together.

It wasn’t a question. His hands began to move over her, slow, slow and deliberate, retracing the lines of the skin he had claimed only hours before.

Eelss. When she dared to look up at him, his eyes held something that made her breath catch in her throat.

There was want, yes, but beneath it was something deeper, softer.

It was love. The word hit her chest with the force of a physical blow.

Eels. She’d never seen that look aimed at her before, never allowed herself to believe that anyone ever would.

His mouth found hers, hungry and possessive, and she was already arching into him when the knock came.

Sharp, urgent. Boss, eels. Vince’s voice sliced through the door.

There’s a large yacht anchored just offshore. Sebastian went absolutely still.

Eels. The heat between them simply evaporated, and in its place was something cold, sharp.

He was already out of the bed, pulling on a shirt and pants with a practiced lethal efficiency.

The gun appeared at his back as if it were a part of him.

Feels as natural as breathing. Arya moved to the window.

She looked out over the water. A sleek white yacht sat maybe a quarter of a mile out, looking pristine in the morning sun.

It could be anybody. People anchor out here all the time.

Eelss. I don’t operate on assumptions. Sebastian was beside her now, tension radiating from him in waves.

This is a private cove. If they’re anchored here instead of near town, his gaze swept over the yacht with a predator’s focus.

Eelss. They might be precisely who we’ve been waiting for.

Eels. The marriage announcement was sent out yesterday. They moved fast.

That freezing dread from before came flooding back into Arya’s veins.

You think it’s them, the Lombbertus? He didn’t answer. He just moved toward the door.

Eels. The main room had been transformed into what looked like a military command center.

Margarita stood at the window. Binoculars pressed her eyes, her easy morning vibe replaced by a sharpedged alertness.

It has to be the Lombbertis eels. She didn’t lower the glasses.

No one else would be caught dead wearing black suits on a luxury yacht in this kind of heat.

Peasants, they have no sense of occasion. Alonso came from the direction of the armory, checking the magazine on his pistol.

Eels, we could send a fishing boat out there. Get a closer look, maybe.

No. Sebastian took the binoculars from Margarita, raising them to study the yacht for himself.

Eels. His face changed, the warmth giving way to something cold and strategic.

We do nothing. Absolutely nothing. Alonso’s brows knitted in confusion.

They won’t make a move before nightfall. For now, they’re just out there watching us.

Counting deals. Sebastian lowered the binoculars. We have to make them believe we’re vulnerable.

Let them get comfortable. See us moving about as if we don’t have a single worry.

His eyes swept across the room. They have to think the advantage is all theirs.

Eels. Margarita’s expression was a perfect mirror of his strategy.

So, we put on a little show. Precisely. Sebastian looked at her, then Arya.

Get your swimsuits on. We’re spending the morning down by the water.

Arya and Margarita exchanged a look. Eels. And in Margarita’s shrug was a story.

Just another Tuesday in the Venty family circus. Eels. 30 minutes later, Arya was perched on the edge of the stone dock next to Margarita, their feet skimming the surface of the water.

A small motorboat rocked in the gentle tide beside them.

The sun felt so warm, so real on her shoulders, eels.

The sea was a glittering invitation, and somewhere in all that stunning blue.

Men were watching them through the crosshairs of a rifle.

The contradiction was enough to make her head spin. Then Sebastian was there, wearing nothing but swim trunks, eels, his body a map of lean muscle and quiet power.

He didn’t pause. He just cut cleanly into the water.

Try not to stare at the yacht, eels. Margarita’s voice was low as she sipped from a glass filled with something orange and bubbly.

The seemed far too festive for the circumstances, eels. The danger isn’t here yet.

We should soak this in while it lasts. Arya’s gaze was fixed on the spot where Sebastian had vanished beneath the waves.

He was down for too long. A familiar hum of anxiety started under her skin.

Heels right before he broke the surface near the motorboat’s hull.

His hands busy with something just below the water line.

What is he doing? Margarita just swirled her drink. The picture of a woman on a calm beach holiday.

He’s planting charges. C4 eels probably seeks if we’re running low on the good stuff.

The statement was so casual, so utterly mundane that Arya’s mind almost refused to accept it.

Then the meaning landed. He’s what Sebastian is always prepared.

Margarita tilted her head back. Feels basking in the sun.

He has contingency plans for his contingency plans. Arya’s eyes drifted across the little bay, stopping on the Zodiac raft hidden beside the boat house.

Heels. What’s that for? Another casual shrug. Our way out.

He’s prepared. Sebastian surfaced, hauling himself onto the dock with a single fluid motion, water sloosing down his chest.

He came right to Arya, eels, leaning in to kiss her before she could even find the words.

You are not blowing up my cottage. She wanted it to be an order.

It came out as a whisper. His lips were still close to hers.

I’ll buy you a better one. Bigger. Anywhere in the world you want.

Eelss. Arya just shook her head. The crushing weight of her new reality closing in.

2 weeks ago. I had a normal life. It might have been boring, but it was normal.

She looked at Margarita, who was already pouring another drink.

Eels. Though it was barely 11:00 in the morning. Eels.

And you you’re drinking appperole at 11:00 a.m. Sweetheart, this is a timehonored venty tradition.

Margarita lifted her glass as if in a toast. Cocktails at 11, wine with lunch, something stronger in the afternoon, tequila at dinner, eels, and a whiskey before bed.

She took a deep drink. You’ll learn to live with it.

I don’t want to learn to live with it. But the protest felt hollow even as she said it.

A part of her, the same part that gripped a pistol the night before, deals.

The one that felt a shock of power course through her was already changing.

Already hardening into something she didn’t recognize. Before that thought could pull her under.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Eels. Sebastian lifted her like she weighed nothing, holding her tight against him.

Eels. What are you doing? His eyes had that fire in them, an intensity she was starting to know all too well.

Something I’ve wanted to do from the very first second I laid eyes on you.

And then he launched himself off the dock. Eelss pulling her down with him into the cool clear water.

They came up sputtering, her gasp of shock dissolving into breathless laughter.

In spite of it all, the yacht, the gunman, the explosives, eels, the fact that her whole world had been burned to the ground and rebuilt in just 14 days.

Sebastian’s hands found her waist beneath the water, drawing her flush against him.

I never told you about the hidden cove, did I?

Eels. Just around that rock formation, Arya bit her lip, fighting a smile.

You did mention it. His own grin turned predatory. Did I mention what I’m going to do to you when we get there?

She pressed a hand to his mouth, her playful mood gone in an instant.

Eelss. Just tell me we’re going to get through tonight alive.

He turned his head and kissed the center of her palm, his green eyes catching the sun until they seemed to burn.

All the levity was gone, replaced by a deep, immovable conviction.

Heels. I will never let anyone hurt you, Bella. Not them.

Not ever. His grip on her waist tightened, a promise of protection that was also a claim.

I swear it. Out on the water, the yacht was a silent, ominous shape.

Under the motorboat, the charges lay waiting. Eels. Back in the house, guns were being loaded.

But right here in his arms, with the sun on her face and the water on her skin, Arya let herself believe him.

Eels. She had to because thinking about the alternative was simply not an option.

The sun finally surrendered to the horizon, painting the Mediterranean in shades of blood.

Inside the cottage, every window was a blaze of light.

Eelss. The dining table was a scene of manufactured normaly.

Remnants of dinner, half empty wine glasses, plates of pasta.

Sebastian sat at its head, phone to his ear, his voice a low, steady current of commands.

Margarita swirled her wine eels. The image of relaxation completely ignoring the armed men readying for battle just out of sight.

I felt like I was on a stage all day.

Margarita sipped her wine, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

But honestly, Eels, it’s one of the most enjoyable days I’ve had in a long time.

Sebastian’s focus was absolute. Eels. Luigi is everything in position downstairs.

A beat of silence. Good. Have the boat move to the alternate cove in the next hour.

No lights. Understood. Arya just watched him from her end of the table.

2 weeks. 14 days ago. Eels. He was just some arrogant man with a handsome face and a dangerous look in his eye.

Now, now he was her husband. The word felt strange on her tongue, like a piece of a language she hadn’t yet learned.

Eelss. She tried to ignore how compelling he was when he was in command.

That calm authority that made people listen. That subtle shift in his posture that told you he was already thinking three moves ahead of everyone else.

No, feels she definitely didn’t see her father in him.

Not at all. Feels. But her mother, Arya’s gaze, drifted to the black water outside as her professional training took over.

The mind defaults to what it knows. It seeks familiar patterns, not because they are safe, but because they are coded into us, feels she’d spent her life studying the architecture of the human brain, the machinery of love and connection.

And still, still she walked right into this with her eyes wide open.

How else could this be happening? The truth of it settled heavy in her chest, feels a solid, undeniable weight, and she didn’t want to fight it.

Not anymore, Sebastian. It was Alonzo’s voice, sharp and urgent from the doorway.

Two cars we don’t know just left town our way, and the yacht just put a speedboat in the water.

Eels. Sebastian was on his feet, his body taught with attention that his movements didn’t betray.

His eyes went to the clock. 9:00 p.m. They’ll have us surrounded inside of an hour.

The attack will come around 11:00. His gaze swept the room quick and calculating.

Eels, Margarita, Vince, Luigi, you’re the only ones they see.

They can’t know our true strength. Understood. Nods rippled through the room.

Sebastian turned to Arya and held out his hand, palm up.

An offering, not an order, eels. Come with me. The bedroom seemed to shrink with the two of them inside it.

Sebastian shut the door and crossed the space in two long strides.

He cupped her face in his hands. Eels. His touch almost impossibly gentle for a man who had spent his day preparing for war.

Eelss. The kiss was soft, tender. It didn’t belong in this moment.

What was that for? Her voice was a fragile thing, barely holding together.

In 2 hours, this house will be surrounded by men trying to kill us.

How can you be so calm? He drew her down onto the bed.

Eels, settling them so they were face to face. His thumb traced the line of her cheek, a touch so careful it made her ache.

If this was all the time we had left, his eyes held hers steady and deep.

Would you want to spend it panicking or like this?

Eels. Arya pushed at his chest, sitting up suddenly. We have known each other for 2 weeks.

Don’t you dare tell me you’re in love with me.

Sebastian leaned on an elbow, his unnerving green eyes seeming to strip away every defense she had.

Eels. How long is a person supposed to take to fall in love?

Tell me, psychologist, what does the data say? She opened her mouth, but no words came out because I knew.

His voice dropped, becoming an intimate murmur. Eelss. The second you stumbled into my lap and looked up at me with those eyes.

I knew I was going to be with you, that this was how it was always going to be because you engineered it.

The accusation was bitter on her tongue. No. He took her hand, eels, pulling it flat against the hard muscle of his chest, his heart hammered against her palm.

Fast, strong, undeniable. This was never part of a plan.

It’s this. Just this. His other hand came up to cover hers, holding it there.

Sometimes, eels, a few seconds is all it takes to fall.

Eelss. The weight of his words settled in her chest, heavy and immediate.

Why me? The question tore from her lips before she could catch it.

A raw, vulnerable sound that exposed everything she had fought to conceal.

Why would you fall for me? Heels. A smile touched his lips, but it was different now.

The edges softened by something she couldn’t name. You’re looking for the clinical answer, aren’t you?

I’m certain you have one prepared. He moved, closing the final inch of air, separating them.

Feels. But let me tell you what I truly see.

His fingers, impossibly light, traced the sharp line of her jaw.

That distance in your gaze, like you’re mapping out every exit, even in the moments you desperately want to stay.

Eelss. He swept a stray piece of hair from her face.

I see the way you give your body to me, only to snatch your soul right back, reclaiming control.

It’s that beautiful maddening contradiction, Eels. For a fraction of a second, she forgot how to breathe.

You warn me to keep my distance, even as your body aches for me to come closer.

Everything about your posture screams, “Don’t touch me.” But there’s a deeper whisper, begging, “take me,” feels his thumb brushed the curve of her bottom lip.

It’s the fragility you hide behind those walls you’ve built.

The fire that ignites in your eyes when you’re angry.

Just before you turn your head away, trying to keep it from me feels.

She swallowed against a sudden tightness in her throat. For the very first time, someone was seeing past the facade.

Truly seeing her. Not the composed psychologist, the woman with every answer, but the chaotic conflicting truth she kept buried.

Eels. In that moment, he knew her in a way she didn’t yet know herself.

Eels. A single tear escaped. A traitor she couldn’t stop.

She wiped it away, a swift, useless motion, praying he hadn’t seen, he had.

Sebastian closed the space, his forehead resting against hers, and when he kissed her, the world shifted.

Eelss. It was a question this time. His lips searched against hers, a tender exploration, while his hands framed her face as if she were made of glass.

Tell me, Arya. He pulled back just enough, his gaze locking with hers, a raw need roughening his voice.

Feels. What is this? What do you feel for me?

He guided her down onto her back, his body a warm weight above her as the kiss deepened into hunger, his hands moving with a new purpose, learning the map of her through the fabric.

“If you feel what I feel,” eels, his breath hitched.

“I need to hear you say it tonight, eels. I need a shred of hope.”

His fingers found the hem of her dress, slowly guiding it upward as cool night air kissed her skin.

Moonlight streamed through the window, painting their world in strokes of silver and shadow.

As he looked down at her eels, his expression changed, softening into something like reverence.

It’s not just your body I need. His palms moved over her skins, slow, deliberate, memorizing her.

I need your soul stripped bare. All of it. Arya pulled him down, her arms circling his neck.

Eelss. Her lips found his ear, and she finally gave voice to the words that had terrified her for so long.

I want you, Sebastian. Her voice trembled. I love you.

She drew back just enough to see his eyes to make sure he heard the truth in it.

Feels make love to me as if the sun won’t rise.

He kissed her then, and the world outside simply ceased to exist.

When he moved inside of her, his gaze never left hers.

Open, unguarded, completely exposed. I love you. The admission cracked through his control.

Eelss. Arya, I love you. She held him tighter. His name a broken prayer on her lips as a wave of feeling crashed over them both.

When it was over, they lay tangled together. Two souls refusing to be separated.

Outside in the waiting dark, eels, armed men were closing in.

A yacht sat anchored just offshore. Violence was coming. But for this one moment, wrapped in moonlight in each other.

They had found the one thing worth fighting for. Eels.

The violent pounding on the door shattered the peace. Arya was still pressed against Sebastian’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heart, a comfort under her ear.

For one perfect stolen second, she had known what it was to be safe.

Heels. It was the calm before the deluge, the last breath taken before the water closes over your head.

And then Margarita was there, bursting through the door. They’re here, Seb.

Her voice was a blade in the dark. Move now.

They dressed in a frantic haze eels, hands fumbling with zippers and buttons.

Sebastian seized Arya’s hand, pulling her toward the chaos. They took the stairs at a dead run, his grip so tight it would surely leave a mark.

Every light in the cottage was out. The darkness was absolute eels.

When they got to the basement door, Sebastian’s fingers flew across the keypad.

Eels. Steel panels hissed open, uncovering a stairway that led down into what could only be a military bunker.

Racks of weapons lined the concrete walls. Tunnels split off into three different directions.

Men moved with the chilling efficiency of soldiers, slamming magazines into place, securing tactical vests.

Arya’s breath caught in her throat. Her own mother had grown up down here in these same tunnels, walking past these very weapons, learning a language of survival Arya never knew existed.

Eelss. How could she have known her so little? The thought was a sudden sharp pain in her chest.

Six men armed to the teeth shoved past them, heading up the stairs they’ just descended.

Sebastian’s arm shot out, grabbing Vince by the shoulder. Stay sharp, heels.

His voice was impossibly calm. When this house comes down, make damn sure you’re not in it.

Vince gave one sharp nod, his jaw set like stone.

Deals. Sebastian clapped his shoulder. If I don’t see you down here, I’ll see you on the boat.

He turned then to Luigi and Margarita, his face hardening into a mask of command.

She’s your responsibility. Keep her safe. No eels. The word was ripped from Arya’s throat before she could think.

You’re not staying behind. You can’t. I have to stand with my men.

Sebastian’s eyes were unwavering. A bedrock of certainty. I’m the only one who can arm the system.

They have to see me here, eels. They have to know I’m fighting alongside them.

Arya’s fingers tightened around his wrist, a desperate anchor. I am not leaving you.

Margarita’s hand covered hers, her touch gentle but unyielding. They come back, Arya.

They always come back. Heels. She looked at Sebastian then, a fierce loyalty flashing in her eyes.

You watch out for Alonsoso. Don’t you dare come back without him.

Sebastian pulled Arya into a hard, fast kiss. 1 hour, I will meet you at the boat.

I promise. And just like that, feels he was gone.

Taking the stairs two at a time. Margarita’s hand clamped onto Arya’s arm, pulling her toward one of the dark.

Arya twisted, her eyes straining to see him one last time.

God, please don’t let that be the last time. Eelss.

Please bring him back to me. The sharp crack of gunfire exploded from the floor above.

Sebastian punched a code into a hidden panel, disappearing into a room that didn’t exist on any blueprint.

The explosive device sat waiting, Yels, just as he had left it 3 years ago when he’d turned this quiet cottage into a fortress.

Just in case, Yels. 40 minutes. That was all the time he was giving anyone left in this house.

He punched in the sequence, his eyes on the timer as it blinked to life.

The red digits began their slow march backward eels. He holstered two pistols at his waist and took a third in his hand.

As he stepped out of the room and turned toward the stairs, a single thought consumed him.

This was not going to be his last night on earth.

He was going back to her. Arya ran. Eels. The narrow tunnel pressing in.

The darkness a physical weight. The small beam from Margarita’s flashlight bounced ahead.

A tiny weapon against the suffocating black. She was leaving him behind to save herself.

And it felt wrong. A deep eel’s soul level kind of wrong.

Miss Venty eels. Luigi’s voice echoed from just behind her.

What is it? Shouldn’t you be up there with them?

Her breath was ragged, coming in sharp bursts. Why are we running?

My job is to deliver you to the boat alive.

Luigi’s large frame moved closer. Eelss blocking the tunnel. We can’t afford to waste a second.

We have to keep moving, Luigi. Margarita’s call echoed from the darkness ahead.

Where are you two? Luigi yelled back, his voice bouncing from the stone.

Keep going, heels. Someone has to get to the boat.

Raise the captain. I’ll bring Miss Venty. A beat of silence stretched thick with tension before Margarita’s voice came again, more distant this time.

You damn well better be right behind us. Margarita was hesitating.

Heels. Arya could feel it in the stillness. Eels. Then the beam of the flashlight vanished around a bend, devoured by the tunnel.

Luigi’s hand found Arya’s arm, his grip firm, insistent. Come on, this way.

He guided her down a different path. We have to stick to the plan.

Heels. Arya let Luigi lead her deeper into the earth.

Something was off. It was a feeling she couldn’t give a name to.

A knot of wrongness tightening deep in her gut. They moved through the oppressive dark, their footsteps the only sound.

And then she heard its sea. The sound of waves crashing against rock.

A small pin prick of light appeared. The end of the tunnel.

But when she stepped out into the night air, cold confusion washed over her eels.

She was standing right beside her own cottage. The small stone building was a dark empty silhouette against the sky.

The familiar dock stretched out into the black water. This wasn’t the rendevu point.

This wasn’t the boat. Luigi. She spun to face him.

Eels, her voice sharp. Where are we? Why are we here?

Luigi raised his pistol. The dark metal of the barrel aimed squarely at her heart.

His voice was a whisper at first, lost beneath the distant sound of battle.

Don’t be afraid. Then louder, his words echoing back into the tunnel.

I’m sorry, Arya. The Ventus can no longer be part of the Venturo family.

You never should have come. Two of you should never have been allowed to join.

His jaw clenched. Heels. If Savashin takes over this clan, he will destroy everything.

All of our arrangements, the entire network. Fear, cold and sharp, clawed its way up Arya’s throat, but her mind was already racing.

She squinted, eels, trying to make out his expression in the gloom.

Are you with Diego? Her voice was steadier than she felt.

Or is this the Lombbertes? Luigi stepped toward her, the gun held steady.

Keep walking. Through the mouth of the tunnel eels, she could see the main house.

Gunfire flashed from the windows. Brief violent bursts of orange and white lighting up the stone.

What about Sebastian? The question was a tear in her throat.

Margarita Alonzo. Are you going to kill them all? Heels.

They are Venturo. On Luigi’s face, Arya saw something that could have been mistaken for sorrow.

You’re not one of us. She stumbled back. Her boot heel scraped against cold stone.

Behind her, the dock and the little cottage stood in silhouette, dark forsaken eels.

The Mediterranean Sea spread out beyond them, its black surface flickering with reflected fire.

And then the universe tore apart. The detonation from the main house sent a shock wave through the ground she stood on.

Eelss stone and wood and memory blasted upward in a roaring pillar of fire.

A wave of heat rolled over her even from so far away.

Sebastian, are you out? The question was a fist closing around her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.

This isn’t personal, eels. Arya Luigi’s voice sliced through the inferno’s roar.

I’m sorry, the gun barked, and the impact threw her into the night.

Eels. The pain hadn’t arrived yet, only the shock. Her body knew it was hit long before her mind could catch up.

The last image burned into her sight was the venty house being eaten by the blaze, its stone walls collapsing into a ruin of orange and crimson.

The last thing she felt was the ghost of Sebastian’s kiss on her lips.

She struck the water flat on her back, the very same water she’d played in that morning, laughing as he held her.

The cold was absolute, a void that swallowed her whole eels.

Salt water burned in her eyes, on her lips. Is this how it all ends?

She had only just begun to find the pieces of herself she’d kept buried for so many years.

She’d finally learned not to apologize for her own existence.

She’d discovered a man who saw her. Heels truly saw the soul of her and a history she was just starting to grasp.

Now she was leaving it all, walking away from the game before she’d even had a chance to learn the rules.

Eelss. A cascade of images flooded her mind as the darkness began to pull her down.

Sebastian’s green eyes as they caught the morning sun, his hands as they cradled her face.

Eels, the way he’d looked at her in that cellar, as if she was the only thing in the world worth protecting.

2 weeks, that’s all it had been. It struck her as strange that these were her final thoughts.

Not her music, not the career she had so carefully built, eels, not the life she had carved out for herself in the city, just him.

Only those two stolen weeks. The cold water was await dragging her ever deeper.

The pressure was building in her chest, in her ears.

She gave up the fight, eels, her eyelids fluttered and closed.

Silence folded around her like a final peaceful blanket. It filled every empty space inside her until nothing remained but a profound stillness.

The darkness pulled her deeper still. Heels pressure was building behind her eyes, inside her lungs, deep in her ears.

The cold had moved past sensation into a deep pervasive numbness.

Arya’s body felt like a distant thing, a problem that no longer belonged to her.

Her eyes drifted shut eels and then an arm coiled around her waist from the deep.

Someone pulled her hard against a solid chest and kicked.

The grip on her ribs was like iron, a promise that wouldn’t break, hauling her back toward a surface she could no longer even imagine.

Eels. Arya’s eyes opened into the water. Green. A pair of green eyes stared right back at her through the gloom.

She knew those eyes. Of course she did. She had committed every shade of them to memory in sunlight by candle light in the pitch black.

Sebastian eels. His face was a mask of fierce concentration.

His dark hair a halo floating around his head. One arm was a steel band around her waist.

The other was pulling them through the water with powerful, desperate strokes.

Heels. His legs were a motor beneath them, driving them both toward the surface.

He wasn’t dead in the fire. He was here. He was real.

They broke into the night air together. Arya’s first breath was a ragged gasp, a choke of salt and oxygen heels.

Her lungs felt as if someone had poured gasoline down her throat and lit a match.

A scream of pain tore from her shoulder. She coughed.

Sea water streaming from her mouth, her nose. Her body fought to purge the ocean and breathe all at once.

Sebastian eels. She couldn’t draw enough air. Her thoughts were scattered.

Useless. Thought you were gone. The house. Luigi shot me.

He was one of them. Breathe. Sebastian held her tight against him, treading water.

His voice a steady anchor in her chaos. Eels cut right through the panic.

Eels. I’m here. It all went exactly as we planned.

Just breathe, Bella. Her world was spinning. Turning in his arms, she scanned the blackness around them.

In the distance, the main house burned like a massive funeral p, its flames reaching for a starless sky.

Eelss. Farther out on the water, the Lombberti yacht was also on fire, tilted heavily to one side as it sank into the sea.

What? Sebastian guided her towards something bobbing in the waves nearby.

A small black Zodiac raft tethered to the motorboat eels.

He lifted her over the side before climbing in himself.

His touch was so gentle as he laid her down flat.

Am I dying? The question was so small, so much like a child’s.

Sebastian’s lips formed a curve. Not the arrogant smirk she first met.

Eels. This was something softer. No love. Eels. He shot you with a blank.

No bullet, but it can still burn you up close.

It’s going to hurt like hell for a couple of days, but you are not dying.

He pushed her jacket away, his eyes on her shoulder.

The fabric was charred, eels, and the skin beneath was an angry red.

A shallow graze cut along the muscle, already turning purple at the edges.

See? He touched the wound with impossible care. Grazed you, bruised you.

It’ll be sore for a while, but you’re okay. Arya just stared at him.

None of it made sense. What is happening, Sebastian? I don’t understand any of this.

He moved to the outboard motor and pulled the cord.

The Zodiac engine coughed and then roared to life. I couldn’t pull you into this life, Bella.

His voice was ragged. Eels, almost lost beneath the engine’s noise.

Eels, I love you too much to watch you burn, so I’m sending you home.

But for it to work, everyone has to think you’re dead.

The raft gained speed, slicing through the black water. Once they were far enough away from the burning cottage eels, Sebastian took a small remote detonator from his jacket, he pressed the button.

The small motorboat, still tied to the dock, vanished in a ball of fire.

An orange blossom bloomed against the night as debris rained down into the water.

Eelss. Arya watched the venty house burn, watched the yacht sink, watched the boat she arrived on disintegrate.

Each image burned itself into her memory like a brand.

Sebastian steered them toward an entirely different cove. Eelss. As they cut through the darkness, he began to explain.

The plan changed at the very last second. He kept his gaze fixed on the water ahead.

Only Luigi and I knew. Everyone else, Margarita, Alfonso, Vince, feels every single one of them.

They have to believe you are gone. Even them. The fewer people who know the truth, the safer you’ll be.

Arya’s mind was moving in slow motion, trying to piece it all together.

Why? Diego’s people were watching. So were the Lombardis Eels.

Sebastian’s jaw set like stone. They saw Luigi shoot you.

They saw you go into the water. They think he’s with them now, which means he can work for me from the inside.

The cold logic of it finally began to click into place.

Deals. You’re putting him undercover. He is already there. The two men who survived tonight’s attack.

I let them get away. They will go back and report that the Ventice are finished.

That you are dead and that Luigi has switched his allegiance.

Eels. Sebastian finally glanced at her. And while that’s happening, you disappear.

A new name, a new life. Safe. A hot surge of anger cut through her shock.

Her hands baldled into fists. How could you not tell me any of this feels?

Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be.

I thought I was dying, Sebastian. I thought her throat seized on the words.

You let me believe I was going to die. His expression tightened, but he refused to look away from the water.

If you had known, eels, you couldn’t have sold it.

Diego’s men were watching. Eelss. They needed to see real fear.

They needed to see a real death. His voice got quiet.

I am sorry, Bella, but it had to look real.

Arya blinked, trying to make the world stop spinning. So, what happens now?

She watched his hard profile against the darkness. Eelss. What are you going to do?

Sebastian turned his head toward the shore where a car waited in the shadows.

Now, Bella, as a man who has risen from the dead, I’ve made Diego and the Lombardis think twice about ever coming for me again.

Eelss. Of all the men they sent tonight, only two are walking away, and that’s because I allowed it.

He looked back at her. Then, I have put Luigi exactly where I need him to be.

I have guaranteed your safety. Now I go back to work.

Back to Sicily. Back to my life. Eels. The Zodiac’s engine died as they neared the shore, and Arya could hear another sound.

The unmistakable chop of helicopter blades. Eels. Sebastian’s face hardened.

Now I go back to my life. The words hit her like a physical blow.

And then something sharper took its place. Disbelief. She stared at him, her expression an open wound.

What about us? A shadow passed over his features. Eelss.

His throat moved as he swallowed. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, deliberate.

Love is about sacrifice, isn’t it? His eyes seemed to hold a world of pain.

I have to let you go to keep you safe.

The hardest thing I have ever had to do, eels.

The raft scraped against rocks. Sebastian was out in an instant pulling the small boat ashore.

The helicopter was 30 yard away, its rotors spinning, ready for an immediate departure.

He gave a nod in its direction. Eelss 20 minutes to the airport.

Then he reached into a waterproof bag that was stowed in the Zodiac.

He pulled out a passport wrapped in plastic. Your name is Bella Adoredi, Italian American.

There is 50 million in an account under that name.

Eels. Anger flared on her face. Her hands trembled as she accepted the passport.

I don’t want your money. It isn’t mine. His eyes locked into hers.

It’s yours from the house. From your mother. Ora would have wanted you to have it.

Eelss. She would have wanted you out of this life safe with the chance to build any future you wanted.

Tears began to blur her vision. She blinked them back, furious with herself for crying.

So you had it all figured out. Every last detail.

Eelss. Her voice finally broke. Did you ever really love me, or was I just another piece you moved on your board?

Sebastian’s face seemed to shatter. In one quick motion, he pulled her into him.

His kiss hard, desperate, feels as if he were trying to commit the taste of her to memory forever.

When he finally broke away, his own eyes were wet.

If I didn’t love you this much, his voice cracked.

If I loved you any less, you would be coming with me to Sicily right now.

But I do love you, Eels. And that means I can’t let you burn.

I should have had a choice. Arya’s hands were fisted in the fabric of his jacket, clinging to him even as she knew she had to let go.

This isn’t just your decision. You can’t just this time feels you would have chosen with your hearts.

With a touch that was somehow both gentle and absolute, he took her wrists, unccurling her desperate fingers from his shirt.

One of them had to be rational. One of them had to make the choice that would save her, even if it shattered him.

Eelss. From the helicopter, a figure joged toward them, a sharp silhouette against the furious spin of the blades.

Missadori, we have to go now. The name didn’t land.

Not at first. Bella Adorei. Not Ariventi, never again. In two short weeks, deals, she had excavated her own soul, shedding the layers she’d worn just to survive.

She’d discovered her mother’s history, her own power, and a man who saw through every defense she’d ever built, eels.

And in a single moment, he was sending her back into the world, alone, beneath a name that felt like a lie.

Sebastian took a step away. The water between them shifted, cold and decisive, building the very wall that would now define their lives.

Sebastian feels you have to leave. His voice was a raw, broken thing.

Please, Bella, don’t make this any harder than it is.

Her throat seized. She wanted to fight, to scream, to plant her feet and refuse.

But his gaze held hers captive, and in their depths heels.

She saw the terrible truth. The decision was already made.

He had already set her free, and the crulest cut of all.

She understood why. She hauled herself from the Zodiac, her legs trembling on the slick stones as a man in uniform approached with brisk eels.

Professional steps eels. Miss Adoredi, it’s time to leave. Her gaze drifted back to Sebastian, who stood motionless in the raft as the water lapped at its sides.

The inferno of the house painted one half of his face in flickering orange, leaving the other in stark shadow eels.

He looked like a statue carved from fire and stone.

Beautiful, unattainable, already a memory. I’m never going to see you again, am I?

Something fractured in his expression, the corner of his mouth twisting into a shape that wasn’t a smirk or a smile, eels, but something utterly broken.

I love you, Era. It wasn’t an answer. It was a final word.

A deep physical ache ripped through her chest, and she turned toward the waiting helicopter.

Each step feeling like she was tearing herself in two.

Sand became rocks. Rock became the cold metal of the step.

Efficient hands guided her inside, and she fumbled with the buckle.

Her fingers completely numb. Heels. The wine of the rotors intensified.

The helicopter lurched upwards. Arya mashed her face against the window, her own breath fogging the cold glass.

Down on the shore, Sebastian stood with his head thrown back, just watching her ascend into the night.

Eelss. He didn’t wave. He didn’t move. He just stood there, hands loose at his sides as the space between them stretched into an eternity.

His face became a blur. The burning house a spark.

The entirety of those beautiful eels. Agonizing two weeks shrank to a pin prick of light against the coast and then was swallowed by the dark.

She shut her eyes, but it was too late. The image was seared behind them.

Sebastian eels watching her leave from a shore surrounded by the ashes of what they’d built, what they’d lost, and what they could never have.

Eels, that final picture became her ghost. Every night for an entire year, she would see him standing on that shore.

Every single night, she would feel the man she loved letting her go.

Eelss. Arya Ellis re-entered the United States carrying an Italian passport that named her Bella Adoredi and a driver’s license that bore her real name.

Two women in one body, and neither of them felt like her anymore.

A full year, eels. 12 months had passed since she’d shuffled through customs at Detroit Metro.

Her heart pounding a frantic rhythm, certain someone would pull her aside, would ask the questions she could never answer, feels and expose the life she’d lived for two weeks in a place that now felt less like a memory and more like a fever dream.

But no one did, eels. No one asked a thing.

And in the long year that followed, no one called.

Not Tasinian. Not Margarita Alonzo. No calls, no emails, not a single note slid under her door in the dead of night.

Just silence. Italy started to feel like a story she’d made up.

Feels a dark fairy tale. The stone house in Scario, the garden where she almost fell, the man with green eyes who had been there to catch her.

It was all dissolving into a haze of unreality, except for one thing.

Her nightly ritual just before sleep claimed her eels. She would close her eyes and she would feel it again.

Sebastian’s mouth claiming hers. His hands framing her face. That final kiss on the beach as the helicopter blades beat the air around them and salt water mingled on their lips.

Eels. It tasted of the ocean and of pure desperation.

She remembered the way his fingers wo through her wet hair as if trying to memorize the texture forever.

And it hurt every time. It was a wound she refused to let heal, picking at the scab each night heels.

But she couldn’t seem to stop. 5 months after she came back, she opened her own therapy practice.

The clinic was in the heart of Detroit, 10 floors high, with massive windows that stared out at the city of her youth.

Her city deals, the one she had returned to reclaim.

Her patients unburdened themselves to her, telling stories of breakups and betrayals, of love that had curdled or just quietly died.

And she would listen, her professional mask firmly in place, taking notes, eels, asking all the right questions while every one of their stories chipped away at the emptiness inside her.

Heels. That evening, Arya was at her desk, watching the sunset bleed across the Detroit skyline.

Her last appointment, she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the familiar tension that lived there.

Her thoughts drifted, as they always did, eels, to that first afternoon in Scario, the garden, the fall, his eyes finding hers.

She whispered into the quiet of her office, her voice barely a sound over the city’s hum.

Arya, it was just a dream. You have to stop living in a dream, eels.

Her intercom buzzed to life. “Dr. Ellis,” Pam’s voice chirped.

“Your last patient is here, a Mr. Benedict.” “Arya reached for her notebook and turned to a new page, her pen ready, the professional veneer sliding back over her.

Full name, Eels, a slight hesitation. Eels.” Pam’s voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, the one she saved for especially handsome clients.

Nicholas Benedict, 37, and a very sharp dresser. Another beat of silence.

He listed grief and loss as his reason for the visit deals.

A small smile touched Arya’s lips. Pam’s little previews were a familiar humanizing part of her day.

All right, Pam, send him in. She rose from her chair, smoothing the fabric of her skirt.

She took her customary three steps to the center of the room.

Eels her ritual for grounding herself before a new session.

You are a professional, Arya. The second that door opens, your life waits outside.

Everything you carry gets left at the door. Feels. The door swung inward.

She saw the shoes first. Polished leather, unmistakably Italian and expensive in that understated way that screamed money.

Then perfectly creased linen trousers, eels, a tailored jacket that likely cost more than her first month’s rent on this office.

Her eyes traveled upward, and the world simply stopped turning.

Green eyes, sharp, impossibly familiar, met hers from across the room.

He shut the door behind him, feels, his gaze never leaving hers.

The lock clicked shut, that ghost of a smile she knew so well played at the corner of his mouth, knowing subtle and utterly devastating.

His skin was still bronzed from a year spent under a sun she couldn’t imagine.

Heels and his scent filled the room. Salt and cedar and something wild beneath it all.

Heels. The scent of the ocean. The scent of the earth.

Bella. The name was a low, rough thing on his lips, drenched in a year of longing.

Arya’s own mouth fell open, but no sound emerged. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Feels a desperate prisoner trying to break free. Sebastian Biano, the man who had haunted every waking moment and every dream for 12 agonizing months.

The man whose kiss was her nightly prayer. The man she loved, still loved, would always love, eels, was standing in her office as if summoned from the sheer force of her own grief.

He crossed half the room in two long strides. Arya, her own name from his lips sounded like a confession, his head gave a slow shake, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

Feels. You look incredible.” And just like that, the spell was broken.

Her hand moved on pure instinct, long before her brain could catch up.

The sound of the slap was sharp and loud in the quiet room, snapping his head to the side.

Fire burned in her eyes. Eelss. Nicholas Benedict, she spat.

Sebastian was faster. One hand shot out, capturing her wrist.

The other arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her body against his, and then his mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t a request. It was a claim.

Eels. For a split second, she was frozen in shock, and then her body remembered him.

Every cell came alive. A muscle memory so profound it overpowered all reason.

She knew it instantly. The year they’d spent apart had done nothing to tame the fire between them.

Eelss. If anything, the distance had distilled it into something far more potent, more dangerous.

When he broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air.

His hands came up to frame her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

Arya, my love, I missed you so much. Heels. He leaned in again, and this time the kiss was soft, reverent.

I couldn’t come for you, he whispered against her lips, his voice raw, almost broken.

Not until I had destroyed every threat. Not until I knew you were completely safe.

Eels. Arya’s hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid, real warmth of him through the expensive suit.

She buried her face in his shirt and just breathed him in.

Home. He smelled like home. And now Sebastian’s arms tightened.

Eels holding her as if he’d never let go. Eels.

Now I want my wife with me. And I am never ever letting you out of my sight again.

She tilted her head back to look at him. A storm of anger and love and relief swirling inside her.

An entire year, Sebastian, she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Heels. A whole year went by. How did you know I didn’t move on?

How did you know I wouldn’t find someone else? That Eric beautiful she’d first seen in a garden in scario bloomed on his face the one that made her want to hit him and kiss him all at once feels his lips found the soft skin of her neck pressing a kiss there because you leave your apartment every morning at 8:30 he murmured he kissed the hollow of her throat heels you eat lunch at your desk it’s usually a salad or a sandwich another kiss placed just below her jaw you still have terrible taste in wine that bottle you bought yesterday must have given you a splitting headache.

His mouth moved along her jawline. Heels. Two months ago, someone fixed you up with that doctor from the hospital.

You went to dinner. His eyes lifted to meet hers again, and a flicker of satisfaction shown in them.

But I saw the look on your face. You had zero interest.

Eels. Arya pushed against his chest, creating a small space between them, even as her skin screamed at the loss of his touch.

You’ve had me followed this entire time. Did you honestly think Sebastian closed the distance she made eels?

That I wouldn’t protect you even from there. Eels, you couldn’t send a single message.

Her voice cracked, betraying her. Just to let me know you were alive.

That’s all I needed. His fingers tangled in her hair, the touch both gentle and grounding.

Do you think that was easy for me? Staring at photographs?

Eels. Watching you on a screen. Seeing you but never being able to touch you.

Hearing about your day from someone else instead of from your own lips.

He pressed his forehead to hers. But it’s over. The Lombberts are finished.

Diego is dead. Eels. There is no one left to hurt you.

For now, Arya whispered, blink together. His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip.

I am here with you to build our family. His gaze held hers absolute and unwavering eels.

And to run the clan from this city like Venti, she breathed eels.

Exactly like Oraventi. The reality of it all settled into her bones.

This was her mother’s life, the life she had concealed so well, the one Arya had just inherited, wanted or not.

What if I don’t want any of this? But even as the words left her mouth, feels her own body was a traitor, leaning into his warmth, seeking his touch, already giving in.

Sebastian smiled, a knowing look that said he could see every war raging inside of her.

“Your body is telling me a different story, Bella. Feels.”

His fingers brushed her lips. Then his palm came to rest over her heart, feeling the frantic rhythm against her ribs.

“Everything about you tells me you want me. Your pulse, your breathing, the way you lean in, even when you’re trying so hard to be angry, eels.”

Arya reached up, pulling his mouth back down to hers, kissing him with a year of aching loneliness and rage and a desperate burning love.

Eelss. When they finally parted, she could speak again. “So what comes next, Mr.

Nicholas Benedict?” His smile became wicked, a dark and playful thing.

Now my love my wife. He paused, letting the silence stretch.

First we have a proper wedding eels. The one you deserve, not some rush thing with a terrified official and men holding guns.

His hand moved to her stomach, his palm spreading wide, possessive over the fabric.

Then we buy a house anywhere you want. It’s your choice, eels.

A fire burned in his eyes as he looked at her.

And then we raise our children. His voice dropped intimate and heavy.

But first things first, we should probably get started on that part right away.

Eelss. Arya fisted his tie, pulling him down to her level.

No more fake names. Sebastian’s smile was instant. Deal. We live where I decide.

He nodded, not hesitating for a second. Agreed. You keep the business away from our family.

Eels. Nothing that could ever put them in harm’s way.

His expression grew serious. Of course. Arya’s fingers tightened on the silk, pulling him so close their breaths mixed.

And if you ever ever leave me again, her eyes locked with his eels, I will kill you myself.

Sebastian’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his body.

I will never stay away from you again, Bella. Never.

He lifted her from her feet. On pure instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Eels, their bodies slotting together as if the year apart had been nothing but a dream.

Eelss. Sebastian, she tried to sound stern. The word came out as a breathless sigh.

This is my office. He carried her toward the leather couch near the window, that soul destroying smile playing on his lips.

Eels. Aren’t we supposed to be working through your grief and loss, Dr.

Venty? His eyes were alive with heat and mischief. We shouldn’t waste a single moment.

The last rays of the Detroit sun washed over them, painting them in gold as he laid her down.

Heels outside. The city kept moving. Horns blared. People hurried home.

The world continued on its axis. But inside that office, for them, time stopped.

Sebastian’s mouth found hers again, but slower this time deeper.

It was a promise, a claim, a homecoming. Eelss. Arya’s hands tangled in his hair, drawing him closer.

12 months of being apart, 12 months of ghost kisses and touches, worn thin by memory.

12 long months of her trying to fool herself into believing she could build some kind of life without this man.

And it all just dissolved. She had left her heart behind in Scario.

But Sebastian Biano had just crossed an entire ocean to give it back.