Page 3 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

And then—

“Apologize.”

The word isn’t loud. It isn’t sharp.

It’s a commandthatbrooks no argument.

The air shifts thickens and cracks like a storm waitingto break.

Slowly, I look up.

Luca stands a few feet away, his gaze locked on thewoman, his expression unreadable. But the ice in his voice? The weight of it?That is unmistakable.

The woman stiffens. “I—”

“Apologize.”His tone doesn’t waver.

Her lips part, outrage flickering in her expression, butshe knows who he is and what he’s capable of. She swallows. Her spine stiffens.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

My breath hitches.

Luca Venturi made a woman who could buy my entireexistence apologize to me.

He turns to me next, and something unreadable flickersacross his face.

“Leave it,” he says, nodding to the mess. “Someone elsewill take care of it.”

“I—I can’t just—”

“You can,” he interrupts smoothly, extending a hand.

I hesitate.

But then, against all better judgment, I take it.

His fingers curl around mine, warm, strong, steady. Whenhe pulls me to my feet, a strange sense of security washes over me, like I’mback in his father’s garden, wrapped up in his protective embrace.

Safe.

“Thank you,” I whisper, unsure why my voice barely makesa sound.

His lips curve, the faintest ghost of a smile, then heglances down at where we’re still joined, at my wrist, which is turned up toface him, my heart birthmark on display, and that ghost of a smile is replacedby the darkest expression I’ve ever seen.

2

LUCA

WALKING THROUGH MY MIND

The moment I see it, I know.

The heart-shaped birthmark on her wrist is small andfaint but unmistakable. The scar on her chin, from an accident in my father’sgarden. The way she’s been walking through my mind all night like the ghost ofa memory. It clicks into place like the final move in a long-anticipated chessgame.

AemeliaLambretti.

The daughter of the man who laughed and joked with mybrother then conspired in his death without a second thought.

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