SINFULLY LOVED

AMEDEA & VINCENZO

AMBRA KERR

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Copyright © 2022 by Ambra Kerr
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
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without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents
are product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,
things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

Edited by: MadSkillz

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 CONTENTS

Prologue
1. Vincenzo
2. Amedea
3. Vincenzo
4. Amedea
5. Vincenzo
6. Amedea
7. Vincenzo
8. Amedea
9. Vincenzo
10. Amedea
11. Vincenzo
12. Amedea
13. Vincenzo
14. Amedea
15. Vincenzo
16. Amedea
17. Vincenzo
18. Amedea
19. Vincenzo
20. Amedea
21. Vincenzo
22. Amedea
23. Vincenzo
24. Amedea
25. Vincenzo
26. Amedea
27. Vincenzo
Epilogue

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 PROLOGUE

M y heart raced and with a sharp cry, I sat upright

in bed. I blinked into the darkness wondering
what had woken me so suddenly. It was dark in
the bedroom, except for the ray of light from the moon
through the window.
I tried to listen for noises in the house but failed
miserably. My heartbeat was too loud in my ears. There had
to be a reason I was startled out of sleep. However, the
house had a state-of-the-art security system. I would have
noticed if someone had tried to break in.
Wouldn't I?
To my chagrin, I knew full well I wouldn't be able to get
back to sleep until I was sure why I had woken up. I leaned
to the right of the bed and groped blindly for the light
switch. What time was it anyway? Maybe it was late
enough to justify getting up for the day?
My fingers brushing against the switch, I flipped it and
blinked as I got used to the change in lighting. Just as I was
about to lean back in bed and reach for my cell phone, I
saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye.
I jerked my head around, only to see my father standing
in the corner of my bedroom, leaning against the wall with
his arms crossed. At the waistband of his pants, I spied the
gun he never left the house without. How had he tracked
me down in the first place? Emilio had promised he would
not find me!
"No," I gasped. How realistic were my chances of
jumping out of bed and reaching the door? Would I make it
downstairs and out of the house? Or had he brought his
men, just waiting to immobilize me with a bullet?
Refusing to face the ice-cold realization, I shook my
head and slid further back against the headboard.
"The game is over once and for all, tesoruccio."
"No," I repeated, more vehemently this time.
"You should think about whether you're going to
volunteer to come with me or if I will have to drag you out
of here by your hair." Disgusted, he wrinkled his nose as his
gaze slid around my bedroom.
It was no comparison to the standards I had grown up
with. But it was my kingdom, which was what counted—
nothing else.
"You can't just come here and expect me to go with you.
I'm an adult."
"And you probably think you're living a successful life of
your own, too." He laughed.
That stung because yes, I did. For almost three years, if
I thought about it.
How had he found me? Why was I still alive if he was
angry about what I had done with my life after fleeing him?
"I'm not going anywhere," I declared, though I knew
how useless it was to resist him. Part of me had always
known that one day he would show up to take me home.
The rest of me didn't want to believe it and hoped to be
forgotten. It was the only way I could live a self-determined
life without his influence.
"I was already afraid of that," he muttered.
The door was pushed open, and two men came in.
Automatically, I pulled the blanket higher, even though it
offered no protection from being taken against my will.
 I knew the faces of the two guys. For years they had
been devoted to my father—no use begging them for pity.
Tears suddenly pricked my eyes. I had missed my
window of opportunity to escape for the time being.
"Last chance," my father informed me.
Instead of moving, I crossed my arms and shook my
head. Even though that meant the men would grab me,
right and left, lift me out of bed, and carry me outside to
the dark limousine as if I weighed nothing.
"You are the worst father in all of Italy!" I shouted, even
though it was no use.
I noticed the acrid smell of smoke. I jerked my head
around, but the flames were already flickering up the tiny
house's walls and spreading up the roof.
My heart contracted painfully at the sight, and the tears
that had gathered in my eyes fell.
He'd destroyed what I had worked hard for. He'd ruined
my home. And with it, any connection still existing between
us.
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 1

VINCENZO

E very damn minute I had to spend in that villa felt

like pure torture. The place created a tingling
under my skin, reminding me of insects feasting on
a decaying body until nothing was left.
That's exactly how it felt. Every time I entered the villa, I
left a small part of me behind.
My gaze slid to Emilio, my brother and head of the
family, who sat behind his desk and was probably about to
punch Taddeo Santoro's face. At least, that's how it looked.
Leaning against the wall next to the door, my other brother,
Dario, looked like he was also ready for a brawl.
I, meanwhile, had missed the part about why Taddeo
had asked for a private meeting in the first place.
My memories of him were not particularly good. He was
a choleric man who had neither his anger nor his
aggression under control and offended everyone with his
behavior. He was not a good employer. He treated people
around him like dirt, and his reliability left much to be
desired. Whenever it was up for debate on whom to recruit
for a job, I would give priority to almost anyone else.
Before putting my security in this man's hands, I would
rather have trusted an unqualified security guard who had
never worked with us.
 I twisted my mouth, drumming my fingers on the
tabletop. I had even pulled my chair to the other side of the
desk to put as much distance between us as possible.
I could not stand this man, and had no problem letting
him know.
"I demand reparation," Taddeo hissed. By now, his face
was flushed red.
He was probably about to explode.
Emilio leaned back in his chair and stared at him with
his arms crossed before pulling out a stack of pictures and
slapping them in front of him. "If anyone can demand
reparations here, it's me."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pictures showed
the remains of a house that had burned to the ground.
Someone had done a great job.
"I had no way of knowing this was your property."
"But it was fine as long as you thought it was hers?"
Emilio's eyebrow went up.
Someone had given the wrong answer.
"Surely none of this would have been necessary if you
had informed me when she came to you for help."
Emilio snorted. Shaking his head, he took the
photographs back. "Why would I have done that? When I
met her, she first spent two days in the hospital. And I'm
pretty sure that was because she was running from you,
Taddeo."
I leaned forward. All at once, my interest was aroused.
Had he beaten his daughter?
"What do you want?" I growled. I didn't even need to
stare at him; his attention turned to me.
"I'm not having this conversation with you."
"But I'm having it with you. So answer."
"He's been drumming all this newfangled stuff into her,"
Taddeo began, again on the verge of exploding.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
 "Women can live alone. Women can have careers.
Women don't need a husband to live safely."
I raised an eyebrow. So that's the kind of asshole he was.
"That still doesn't tell me what you expect from my
brother."
"He corrupted her, so he will also see to it that she gets
her honor back. He will marry her after teaching her all
this nonsense. Or I will be forced to impose other
consequences."
I stared at him. Why didn't we kill him on the spot? Then
he could shove his demands and threats up his tight ass.
Unfortunately, I vaguely remembered that he played a not
inconsiderable role in matters of export and thus was
practically protected for precisely these scenarios.
"My brother already has a wife." I didn't let slip that he
still hadn't married Flavia.
"It's not an obstacle," he returned.
I rose, simply to hold a higher position than he. "Are you
sure you want to threaten your boss's wife, Taddeo?
Something tells me that wouldn't end well."
I didn't even have to look at Emilio's face to see his
anger. Taddeo Santoro would have been dead long ago if it
wouldn't cause so many problems to kill a man from your
own ranks.
"Dario, it is, then."
I snorted. How far would he go with his demands?
"Sorry, he's recently joined the claimed men, too."
Taddeo looked anything but enthusiastic when his gaze
wandered from Dario, who had shrugged his shoulders with
a grin, back to me. I didn't believe he would dare to ask,
but I was happy to be proven wrong.
Waiting, I looked at my brother.
Emilio cleared his throat. "I can find her a man outside
the family."
"No," growled Taddeo."He's marrying her. His wife is
dead, so there's no reason to deny it."
 I could think of thousands immediately, but I certainly
wouldn't discuss them with him. A deathly silence had
fallen in the small office, so I took the opportunity to move
closer to Taddeo.
Before Emilio could say anything in response to his
arrogant demand, I grabbed Taddeo by the collar and
yanked him out of his chair so his feet dangled above the
floor.
I forced out a smile as I stared into his eyes. "You have
five seconds to reconsider."
Sweat broke out on Taddeo's forehead. He fidgeted with
his legs but did not try to free himself from my grip.
Dario took a few steps toward us. He probably already
had his knife out and was thinking about stabbing Taddeo
here and now. Simply eliminate the problem before it really
became one.
Taddeo shook his head. "I'm sticking with it," he choked
out. "Marry her, or watch me systematically destroy you. "
I didn't plan to ever marry again. And when it came to
saving and protecting women, concerning violent men, that
was certainly not my favored option either.
Growling, I narrowed my eyes and let him go without
warning. "Fine. I'll do it."
Even if it was only to free her from his clutches, once
she was my wife, I could find her a new house, let her move
in, and she could go on with her life as she pleased. I
wouldn't force her to spend time with me.
Taddeo pointed his index finger at me. "I know exactly
what's going on in your head, de Archard. There will be
rules. A contract. I need a male heir, and I certainly don't
want it to seem like she's just your little whore. The
wedding will take place promptly, and she will live with
you. No bullshit. If I notice something is not right, my
earlier threat applies. Besides, I want proof the marriage is
consummated."
 I took a deep breath before raising my arm and pointing
to the door. "Out. Now. Otherwise, I don't care what it costs
me to kill you right now."
"The deal stands," Taddeo reminded me on the way out.
"If nothing happens in the next few days…"
The rest of his statement was lost in the void as Dario let
the door slam behind Taddeo as soon as he left the office.
"Were you serious? You want to marry Amedea
Santoro?" Dario asked, throwing himself on the couch and
staring at me curiously.
"There is no question of wanting," I growled. Unlike him
I knew when it was better to fulfill one's duties and choose
reason rather than anger.
I would also much prefer to gut Taddeo like a pig, but
that would not be wise.
"We'll make sure she can return to her old life," Emilio
said. That was the simplest solution.
Marrying her, if it meant being able to give back the
freedom her father had taken from her, cost me nothing.
After all, I didn't plan to ever put myself in any woman's
hands again.
"That was my plan, too," I muttered. "You knew you
were overriding her father's wishes when you hid her from
him."
Emilio nodded. "I didn't expect him to succeed in finding
her. She was well hidden. Or do you know the location of
the house?"
"Of course not. Her existence wasn't even on my radar,
to be honest." But that was probably because I was only
interested in the family's affairs in exceptional cases, and
just because I had heard her voice once, you couldn't say
that I knew her.
I preferred to stay in my villa near Tramonti. Remote
from people, in a valley known for its vineyards. It was
enclosed by the Lattari Mountains and had many forested
areas to offer solitude.
 It was the perfect place when you couldn't stand the
hustle and bustle of Naples anymore. Naples was an anthill.
Tramonti, on the other hand, was a pure idyll. At least, if
you only let your gaze glide superficially over the valley.
"The house was located remotely on the Amalfi Coast
and was well equipped for her purposes. I'm afraid it will
take some doing to make her happy again."
I rolled my eyes. If that was Emilio's only concern, it
couldn't be that tragic.
Shaking my head, I rose. "I'll take care of the details. As
long as you make sure he leaves her alone until the
wedding."
Images of me killing him and putting Amedea out of her
misery once and for all danced in my mind's eye.
No sooner had I left the office than I was already
breathing more freely. A part of my brain must have
stopped when I agreed. I couldn't take her to Tramonti for
reasons.
My cousins, Fiero, Natale, and sister, Carlotta, had
gathered in the kitchen, I motioned for Fiero to join me. For
whatever reason, my siblings were more attached to Natale
than to our other cousin, but I was closer to Fiero.
We withdrew from the other's prying eyes into a dark
alcove. "I need you to do me a favor," I began the
conversation without mincing words.
He looked at me questioningly. Usually, I did not ask for
favors. I ordered something and expected it to happen.
"You must go to Tramonti and ensure it's fit for visitors.
No nasty surprises. No clues. No grounds for conjecture."
Meaningfully, I looked at him.
Even so, Fiero knew what I was talking about. He
nodded. "How long do I have?"
"A few days tops."
"It's doable."
"Good, and make sure no one else notices."
 "Sure." Fiero nodded and moved away. That's why I liked
him so much. He didn't drag out human interaction
unnecessarily.
Before I left, however, I had to have another critical
conversation.
I trudged into the kitchen and took Carlotta aside. She
didn't seem thrilled to be interrupted during her meal, but
she didn't presume to say anything to me about it either.
"Do you have anything important planned for the next
few days?" I asked.
She immediately became suspicious. "No, why?"
"Because you're going to plan a wedding. From top to
bottom."
She raised an eyebrow. "Whose wedding?"
"Mine," I growled.
"WHAT?!"
"It just happened. Emilio will tell you all the wonderful
details. Make it big, alright? I'd love to remind that little
bastard who's family he's trying to mess with."
"Okay?" Carlotta replied uncertainly.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"What?"
"No similarities to my first wedding. Or I will turn on my
heel."
"Sure. Got it. No problem, batuffolo."
I squinted but said nothing about her using a term of
endearment that I hadn't heard out of her mouth in half an
eternity. "Thank you," I murmured.
While Carlotta had been very young when my first
wedding had taken place, I was more than confident in her
competence to do precisely what I had asked.
She was my sister, after all.
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 2

AMEDEA

I stared in the large mirror and hated admitting that the

dress suited me. Whoever had chosen it proved they
had good taste. And that they had a large purse.
At this thought, I grimaced. I had played along. I had not
defied my father, had not tried to escape. I had undergone
a spa day, and allowed my hair to be braided into a
complicated hairstyle. I hadn't even complained when they
put make-up on me despite the current temperatures and,
last but not least, had squeezed me into this dress with a
tight-fitting top.
It was not only expansive but also dotted with lace and
tiny, sparkling stones. The place chosen for the ceremony
screamed luxury, money, and grandeur.
I knew numerous guests were expected, yet they hadn't
let me out of this room. My father was probably afraid I
might disappear at the last minute or might speak to
Emilio.
At least he could have given me answers to my
numerous questions. The only thing I knew was that I was
marrying Vincenzo de Archard. The oldest of the brothers.
The former boss. The man had already been married, and
was said to have murdered his first wife in cold blood.
I had never had anything to do with him. Until now, I
had not been interested in whom he had killed. Or why. The
thought sent shivers down my spine. What if he had only
agreed to the whole thing to get his hands on his next
victim?
I had not escaped my father to place myself in the
clutches of another man who was possibly even worse.
My gaze wandered to the window. I didn't have to look
outside to know my father's bodyguards were posted below.
He did not trust me. And he was right not to because
mentally, I was busy with what alternative options I had to
not walk down the aisle. An escape seemed impossible.
Killing myself would free me from my dilemma, but it was
also not the ideal solution.
I was attached to my life. And even more to my freedom.
A scenario like this had led me to run away from home
and seek shelter with Emilio in the first place. He had
always cared for me over the years and ensured I was
doing well. He had nurtured my talents and given me the
tools to pursue my dreams. In return, I had worked for him.
He was the older brother I had never had.
I looked away from the window as I heard the door
unlock.
I was not surprised to see my father's face in the mirror.
I crossed my arms. How realistic was it to kill him with the
heels of the high heels I had squeezed into?
His face reflected nothing of what one would typically
expect to see on this occasion. No joy. But also no triumph,
as I had expected. After all, he got what he had wanted all
along.
I was getting married – and he no longer had to worry
about me while I did whatever I felt like.
Almost disparagingly, he eyed the dress. At that
moment, I loved it more than I already did.
"Have you come to give me a few last kind words?" I
asked, unable to keep the scorn out of my voice.
My father had always wanted a son, not a daughter.
Even more so, not one who possessed a particular strength
of character and by nature made life difficult for him with
my stubbornness.
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't already
planning your escape," he replied.
"How could I? Your men are standing at every corner.
And this dress isn't exactly inconspicuous."
He snorted. "I wonder what they spent on it."
"They had it made by a tailor in Conca dei Marini," I
said, almost a little proudly. The older woman who had
helped me into the dress earlier had told me and raved
about how exclusive said tailor was.
I believed that immediately due to the filigree
handiwork.
"I'm sure something cheaper would have sufficed."
I raised an eyebrow. Just like that, he had put a gun in
my hand, probably without suspecting anything. "But we're
talking about the de Archards here, cazzo. What did you
expect?"
It took everything I had to suppress the rising bile, but I
knew how much I was getting under his skin with these
statements.
"The shoes, by the way, are from the oldest cobbler in all
of Naples. The bridal bouquet alone cost over a thousand
euros. Not to mention this venue." I knew how much I was
teasing him. It annoyed him that the de Archards had not
only shot down his threat but were now making a mockery
of him by turning the forced wedding into a big party that
would be remembered by everyone who attended.
"Sounds like you've finally come to terms with the idea,"
my father replied, grinning at me through the mirror. So
far, I hadn't turned to him, and I wasn't planning to change
that.
I shrugged. "If I could, I would run away this very
second. Life in Scandinavia doesn't sound so bad, does it?"
At that very moment, I knew I had made a grave mistake
and taken it too far.
 Before I could step down from the low platform, my
father grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down. I lost
my balance, and he let go of me out of reflex, causing me to
land on the floor. The air left my lungs as he kicked me
hard in the ribs. Half buried by my wedding dress, I stared
up at him.
He had already raised his hand, and I knew he also had
no problem hitting me but a kick in the ribs was more
inconspicuous than stepping in front of the altar with a
bloody lip, thus subliminally insinuating something to the
de Archards.
I shook my head at his behavior, but also knew I would
not be able to get back on my feet on my own.
"You're going to get your act together, marry this idiot,
and make me even richer. If I have to, I'll hold your legs
open while he mounts you." I felt the tip of his leather
shoes on my side. He was applying pressure to the spot he
had kicked.
"You are so pathetic," I replied, laughing at his
statement.
"I agree with you," growled another voice. I jerked my
head around, discovering that Vincenzo had entered the
room without us noticing.
"Get out of here," my father hissed.
"I'd like to have a brief conversation with my future
wife," he replied, sounding almost level-headed.
"But since she's not your wife yet, there will be no
talking."
"I don't think we quite understand each other, Taddeo.
You will leave this room immediately, and if I see you raise
your hand to my wife again, you will have to do without in
the future." His dark gaze sent one icy shiver after another
down my spine.
I definitely did not want to be the one who received his
threats. Involuntarily, my body began to tremble.
 "Here, let me show you what I think of that," my father
replied, yanking me to my feet and punching me in the
face. That immediately knocked me off my feet.
He took another swing but didn't get to place another
blow. Vincenzo intercepted his hand in mid-motion. My
father yelped in pain. It looked as if Vincenzo would crush
his hand with sheer muscle power.
"Get out of this room, Taddeo. And don't think you'll lead
her down the aisle." Vincenzo let go of him, only to push
him toward the door.
To my surprise, my father left without comment.
Vincenzo reached out and helped me get back on my
feet. "Thank you," I murmured and lowered my eyes. I was
still shaking. And all the work that had gone into my hair
and makeup had probably been for nothing.
"To your father, you stare stubbornly, but when I help
you stand, you start shaking? Am I that scary?"
"No," I replied immediately, out of reflex. I couldn't
possibly tell him I had heard the rumors.
"We still have a few minutes. So enough time to limit the
damage," he assured me, turning to face the mirror and
stand behind me.
I felt the warmth emanating from his body and even
dared to eye him. The suit was definitely tailored and
midnight black. I could tell he exercised regularly. Of the
three brothers, his coarse, sharp-edged features showed
his age the most. Emilio and Dario still carried a certain
youthful charm, while Vincenzo had already experienced
quite a bit. The dark shadows in his eyes revealed not all of
it had been good.
Nevertheless, he possessed the same forbidden
attractiveness as the other two men and a natural authority
I had never perceived in Emilio. Vincenzo was a born
leader. Emilio had only followed in footsteps far too big for
him to fill.
 With strong fingers, he slid through my hair,
straightening a few of the barrettes and clips until it no
longer looked like I had a bird's nest on my head. I didn't
ask where he had learned to do this. I didn't dare ask him
anything at all.
Emilio was the brother who I had a good connection
with. Who would answer my questions.
But Vincenzo? I didn't trust him as far as could throw
him.
"Does he always act like that?" Vincenzo asked softly,
snapping me out of my thoughts. His gaze sought mine in
the mirror.
I nodded. "He's always been an asshole."
"That's why you left, right?"
"He was already trying to marry me off to some guy who
would have given him a financial advantage at the time."
"Well, he won't see anything of the family fortune."
I snorted. "You guys have got it completely upside down
for this wedding."
It was just a joke, and yet Vincenzo looked at me
seriously. "This didn't cost even a fraction of what we
have."
"Of course," I said, laughing nervously. I was good with
numbers. And at imagining things. Even in more abstract
patterns of thought. But the de Archards' fortune puzzled
me. I just couldn't imagine how much they had.
Vincenzo finally let go of my long hair and focused on a
dark spot on the white fabric. He obviously hadn't seen my
father kick me – but now he could guess, and the dark
clouds that flitted across his face told me a lot about him as
a person. At least, that's what I wanted to believe, much
more than that he was faking it to gain my trust.
"Who planned the wedding?" I asked to break the
uncomfortable silence.
"My sister," he grumbled. "And she really went all out,
you have to admit?"
 "Would you have planned it differently?"
"Not at all, if it were actually up to me."
"But then why are you still here? You, of all people,
should be in a position to do what you want."
"I'll keep my word. Besides, the alternative… wasn't
quite as nice."
Was that a compliment? Or a simple comparison to my
father's threat?
"I will not get on your nerves or anything. I will make
myself invisible if you want. No problem at all. We don't
even have to see each other regularly. Allow me to live
somewhere else, and you'll never hear anything from me.
No demands, not even for money or anything. I won't get
on your nerves. I promise."
He smirked. "I know you'll behave and not be a burden
to me. But that's a subject we should discuss once we're in
private." Meaningfully, he glanced over his shoulder at the
ajar door.
Of course.
A few minutes later, Vincenzo removed the stain from
my dress. Nothing indicated that my father had just been
violent.
"Is Emilio walking me down the aisle?" I asked because I
had no idea what else to say.
Amused, he raised his eyebrows. "Of course not."
"Who then?"
"Me."
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 3

VINCENZO

I t bordered on a miracle that I managed to control

myself. The sight of Amedea lying on the floor, her
father bent over her with his hand raised… it was one
of those sights I couldn't unsee. The sight made the fuses in
my brain blow and see red.
And that was certainly not because of my bride, but
solely because I had enough experience with this kind of
violence to say: men like Taddeo Santoro deserved a cruel,
slow death that would show them all the wrong they had
done.
As a distraction, I somehow managed to build a bridge
with my future wife, even though it was extremely shaky,
and Amedea didn't seem to care much about getting to
know me.
It didn't bother me, on the contrary, it came in handy,
but I was surprised. There were ladies out there who would
have torn off a leg to get a chance like this. Amedea had
been dealing with the family for years, so if there was one
thing she should know, it was that she shouldn't expect any
danger from us.
I wondered if she had gotten a chance to speak to
anyone outside her father's household in the last few days.
Emilio, for example, would have loved to explain my plan to
her. From what I had seen from her so far, that had
probably not been the case.
With a furrowed brow, I turned away and glanced
outside. Taddeo's men had not escaped my notice. They
would not be at their posts much longer; Fiero and Natale
would see to that.
Did this man really think I didn't see through his
schemes? He expected Amedea to escape and brought his
men despite the damage to his reputation. He was probably
unaware that my wedding was being guarded by the men of
the de Archards and not by some random guys who only
paid attention to Amedea.
I watched Fiero take out two guys and move the lifeless
bodies out of sight then, I turned to my bride and eyed her
thoughtfully.
"You have to promise me one thing," I finally said. I
could have threatened her. Dragged her to the altar under
duress to show her father that he was nothing but a pawn.
But then, I would be, in a sense, no better than he, and this
course of action was out of the question.
"What?" she demanded, looking at me with narrowed
eyes.
I would have bet my car that under normal
circumstances, Amedea was the kind of woman who didn't
have bad moods. She laughed a lot and was happy. You
could see her impartiality in every step she took.
I probably should have used the last few days to ask
Emilio about the woman I was planning to marry. Instead, I
had been preoccupied with other things. They were no less
important, only… perhaps I should have had a different
priority.
"Promise me you won't try to escape. That would put you
in danger, make me look stupid, and your father would
probably try to kill you. All of that can be avoided."
She stared at me. I could easily understand what she
thought. Escape seemed more tempting than facing the
duties that had been involuntarily bestowed upon her. The
flight seemed more exciting. More liberating. Offered more
hope.
However, all this was nothing more than an illusion that
one deluded oneself out of fear and ignorance of what
awaited them.
I glanced over my shoulder and stepped toward her,
immediately invading her privacy. The pulse at her neck
fluttered. Was I intimidating her?
"I can assure you I don't intend to force you to do
anything. It's only on paper. You can do whatever you want.
That includes going back to work for my brother. I don't
care. If killing your father had been a realistic option, I
would have preferred that, too." I averted my eyes. She
probably already knew about it anyway, but it certainly
didn't hurt to remind her."I already had a wife. And I have
no intention of replacing her, Amedea."
"Dea," she corrected. Her staring gaze rested on me.
I nodded. "Okay."
"What was her name?"
It was no secret. Still, I had to force the name across my
lips. "Rina. And I don't talk about it."
Instead of waiting for her answer, I reached out to her
and nodded toward the door. It was about time. We couldn't
keep the guests waiting forever.
Her hesitation did not escape me, but I didn't comment
on it. She should not feel more uncomfortable than was
absolutely necessary.
"How's this going to play out?" she murmured.
"There will be a ceremony and a window of time for
everyone to get on our nerves with their congratulations.
After that, I will get in my car and get out of here. If you
want to join me you are more than welcome." If she
preferred to stay and celebrate with the others, that was
fine with me. At the end of the day, she would end up in
Tramonti after all. And there, in a way, the real fun would
begin.
The area I had chosen to live in was not for everyone.
Also, I had to ensure she didn't stick her curious nose
everywhere until I found a new house for her. Preferably
one that her father never found. Not even by accident.
Carlotta stuck her head through the crack in the door. "I
don't mean to be a pain, but it might be time to show up for
your wedding."
I continued holding out my hand to Amedea and glanced
briefly at my sister.
She rolled her eyes. "Point taken. You look outstanding,
by the way, Dea."
Carlotta sounded carefree. Apparently, she was the only
one enjoying the festivities. It was no wonder, she had
planned every detail.
Finally, Amedea reached for my hand, albeit cautiously.
I told myself this was just like one of those business
meetings I hated. A nasty necessity. A duty that went hand
in hand with all the benefits of being a de Archard.
Before I changed my mind and jumped out the nearest
window, I held her hand tighter and led her outside into the
chapel's antechamber.
Carlotta was waiting for us and opened the double door,
which revealed an admittedly breath taking view of the
chapel's interior. However, she had found this modern feat
of architecture, she deserved praise for it.
The mix of wood, dark tile, and glass was beautiful and
spoke to what this family was all about on so many levels.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you could look out
into the great outdoors. Forest. As far as the eye could see.
No sooner had we taken our positions at the end of the
long aisle than the guests rose. I didn't have to look around
to know that Carlotta and Emilio had gathered all the
important families.
And all just to show with whom the power actually lay.
 Carlotta handed Amedea the bridal bouquet. At the
same moment, the music started.
Weddings had never excited me. They were just a
display of emotional feelings, money, and a trophy to put on
the shelf with your future wife. At least, if you believed all
the old farts gathered in the front rows.
I fixed my eyes on Taddeo while Amedea moved closer to
me as I led her to the altar and the priest waiting there.
For a split second, I exchanged the grim expression on
my face for a beaming smile, for the show and to signal
that this was all about power.
Taddeo Santoro had tried to threaten us and believed he
would emerge victorious. He was not only mistaken but had
also made a severe mistake, one he realized when he
returned my gaze.
We reached the priest, and the ceremony began. It was
now definitely too late to back out.

"Y ou may kiss the bride ."

That was it, the sentence I was most afraid of. It
immediately tore open old wounds and brought me back to
a much happier day with another woman. I was glad
Carlotta had followed my request that this wedding was
different to my previous one.
Rina and I had celebrated with a private wedding on a
small, almost overgrown stretch of beach. Only the closest
relatives had been there. There had been no pageantry, no
huge celebration or pompous ceremony.
It had been intimate, not a display of power or money
like today.
Rina had looked stunning in her dress. Pure white, airy,
and light enough that the wind had caught the skirt and
played with it. I remembered the details clearly. The subtle
rose gold necklace and the ribbon in her hair, which had
been tangled repeatedly by the light gust from the sea. Her
radiant smile, the warmth and happiness she had radiated
that day and the second I had slipped the delicate ring over
her finger, I felt like the richest, luckiest man on earth.
For a fraction of a second, I managed to keep this
memory alive and recreate what had flowed through my
body then. But the feeling did not last and died the second
Amedea approached me with a gentle smile.
I turned into a robot that had internalized the
movements for what followed and needed no intervention
on my part.
My hands closed around her waist as I pulled her toward
me and bent over her. I put one hand on her cheek so no
one would notice that this kiss was nothing more than a
charade. A short touch of our lips, more chaste than my
grandparents had displayed in public.
To create a little more distraction, I lifted her, spun us
around in a circle once, and set her down again before
kissing her on the forehead in a more traditional – and
definitely more intimate – way. Amedea played her part
perfectly, miming the happy bride who was relieved to have
the official part behind her.
She seemed liberated, but I was sure she didn't feel that
way.
Behind us, there was applause and enthusiastic
heckling. Another thing that I detested at events like these
and yet had needed to undergo because it was another
difference from what I had experienced with Rina quite a
few years ago.
I did not intend to overwrite the memory of my first
wedding with this. When I thought of the happiest day of
my life, I wanted Rina to be the woman by my side, not a
young woman whose only salvation was a marriage of
convenience with a bitter widower.
 I wrestled a smile from myself but was sure it looked
more pained than pleased.
Amedea reached for my hand and leaned toward me in
an intimate gesture that appeared familiar. After all, apart
from my family and her father, no one knew that this
wedding was nothing more than a farce.
While half the people supposedly believed that I had
once again found the love of my life and would return to the
mafia life, my siblings did not succumb to the illusion we
had created.
Carlotta put on a smile and Dario wore a grim
expression. Emilio remained professionally bored because
his attention rested alternately on Flavia and his phone.
This was just an act, and we all knew it. Nevertheless,
leaving the chapel by the quickest route didn't seem to be
an option right now. I wondered if Taddeo had noticed that
Fiero and Natale had hunted down his men.
I looked across the rows to the back of the chapel, they
were both leaning against the front door, attentive as
always.
"We have to face the hungry mob," Amedea muttered,
with a grin that belied the undertone in her voice.
"I know. But I'd much rather run away and get this shit
over." Let's hope no one heard that.
Amedea knew as well as I did that I would not run and
how I actually meant the statement, but our guests did not.
Rumors spread quickly among our ranks, so I was
careful not to let our little secret leak out.
"When you're ready…" I said, looking at her inquiringly.
Were you ever ready to face hungry sharks just waiting
to tear you apart? Hardly. Was there no way around the
shark tank? Certainly not.
We descended the steps, but before I could join Amedea,
Emilio took me aside.
"He knows you are responsible for the deaths of his
men."
 I casually straightened my tie and pulled my shirt from
under my sleeves. "So what?"
"He's not thrilled."
I gave Emilio a dark look. "And I'm not thrilled that he
beat Amedea minutes before the ceremony. Not to mention
the words he directed at her and having her guarded like
she was a chest full of gold."
Barely noticeable, the expression on Emilio's face
changed. "Then I'll go tell him he can go fuck himself."
"I'd appreciate it," I replied, amused at how quickly
Emilio had switched sides with the correct information.
Out of nowhere, Fiero appeared next to me. "Those guys
weren't just equipped with firearms," he whispered.
I raised an eyebrow as he unobtrusively slid several
syringes into my hand.
Just as unobtrusively, I passed them on to Emilio, whose
enthusiasm was limited while his mood reached a new low.
"I knew the guy was an asshole, but this…"
He left the sentence unfinished, but I could think of
several ways to end it. One was more unfriendly than the
other.
I turned to Fiero. "Continue to keep an eye on him. If he
comes within five yards of her, I want him to learn to fly."
Fiero bowed his head and disappeared, Emilio moved
closer to me. "I'm afraid he will not leave it at this wedding
and will demand more than we're willing to give. The battle
lines have been drawn. He knows where we stand, and we
know where he stands… except, unfortunately, Amedea is
standing right in the middle, and I don't like it."
I didn't like it either. Not because I had suddenly
discovered a soft spot for her but because she needed
protection. Emilio had offered her that in recent years, but
in the end, it hadn't been enough to protect her from her
father.
For better or worse, Amedea belonged to me now, and
so the task fell under my jurisdiction. Fortunately, no one
could tell me how to do it, so getting rid of all the men he
had brought with him was not wrong.
"I will have it under control, don't worry. Nothing will
happen to her; certainly, nothing that comes from Taddeo."
I would rather watch him personally every day than see
him standing over his daughter with his hand raised again,
ready to beat her bloody.
I could feel eyes on me, so I signified to Emilio that we
postpone the conversation and turned to join Amedea, who
was almost drowning in the rush of guests.
Unfortunately, the worst part was yet to come, and I
couldn't say I felt any pleasure in it.
Sighing inwardly, I pulled myself together, put on a thin
smile, and approached them. Within the first two yards, I
was stopped countless times with congratulations, as if
they had all been waiting to throw them at my feet.
Half of them weren't even serious, which meant this was
a big lie in every aspect.
OceanofPDF.com
 4

AMEDEA

T his dress is really a dream," the fourth – or was it

the eighth? – wife of a high-ranking member of the
mafia said to me, smiling.
She probably expected me to be happy about the
compliment and recognize her good taste, even though she
had observed something quite obvious. A lot of money had
gone into the dress, and even someone who hated wedding
dresses would have had to admit it looked forbiddingly
good.
I returned the smile and nodded. "I couldn't have
imagined a more beautiful one."
It hadn't taken me long to realize that the guests didn't
know this wedding was a farce. They believed we were
marrying for love, and someone – I suspected Carlotta –
had gone to great lengths to make it look that way.
Music played in the background, peppered with
romantic melodies that had ticked my gag reflex for about
twenty minutes.
I didn't expect Emilio to instrumentalize this wedding in
such a way. It was almost like a campaign for the family. A
campaign to demonstrate that power still lay with Emilio
and that he enjoyed the support of countless people. One of
them more dangerous than the other.
 One look at Dario was enough to tell me that he had
shown up with bloodlust in mind. I wonder if it was because
I didn't see Gia anywhere near him. I spotted a tiny splash
of blood on Fiero's collar. Natale stayed away from the
crowd and watched the hustle and bustle with his arms
crossed. Flavia was at Emilio's side, and together they
made an awe-inspiring couple. And not just because
everyone kept at least a one-yard distance from them.
I would have liked that distance, too. Instead, someone
was constantly squeezing my arm, kissing my cheek, or
wanting a hug. Vincenzo seemed even more uncomfortable
with this attention because he half hid behind my expansive
dress, making it difficult for people to get close to him.
I envied him for this advantage because it meant I got
the bulk of the congratulatory comments while he watched
over with his arms folded.
Someone reached for my hand, lifted it, and marveled at
the ring on my finger. I could have sworn I saw a magpie
flash in the woman's eyes. Although she had to be in her
mid-sixties, that didn't mean she didn't have thieving
fingers.
With a smile but quite determined, I withdrew from her
hand and concentrated instead on someone else. I couldn't
blame the older woman, though, because the ring was
anything but inconspicuous. The size alone was enough to
immediately catch the eye.
The band had been set with countless diamonds, while
the actual stone sparkled a rich blue. I didn't need a
jeweler to tell me it was a sapphire.
Not a usual choice and I wondered who had made this
selection.
Suddenly, Carlotta appeared next to me, one hand on my
middle so she could push a little in front of me to cover the
gaze of the others.
"Dario told me to keep quiet, but I'd like to give you a
heads up at this point… our parents are on their way here.
I might have guessed they would get wind of it, but I didn't
expect them to show. Either you guys leave now, or this will
get really interesting." Somehow it didn't sound as if really
interesting meant something positive.
My gaze slid to Vincenzo.
"I haven't told him yet. But I can assure you that as soon
as they set foot in this chapel, he will run for the hills."
Carlotta sounded more serious this time, and that caused a
sinking feeling in my stomach.
I had experienced enough today regarding the subject of
parents. I didn't need to make the acquaintance of the
parents of Italy's most feared mafia offspring.
What they had become had to find its origin
somewhere…
Before I could think about it I turned to Vincenzo.
Somehow I managed to get my face close to his ear. It did
mean getting closer to him a second time that day, but for
him, it seemed to be part of the game.
His arm automatically moved around my waist.
"Carlotta just told me your parents are on their way
here," I whispered.
For a moment, he stiffened, then he grabbed me and
lifted me into the air and into his arms. I uttered a
surprised sound, but it was drowned in the sudden
applause and cheers.
They probably thought Vincenzo couldn't stand not
being alone with his bride for a second longer. Fantastico. I
cleverly hid my tortured smile and allowed him to carry me
outside, although I could have walked.
"What do you have against your parents?" I asked when
he pushed open the chapel door. The warm midday sun
shone down on us. I instantly felt warmer in the dress.
Vincenzo hurried down the stairs without stumbling
once despite still carrying me in his arms while wearing a
dress that wasn't exactly light.
 "Because I can imagine what they will say. It would be
the same farce for them as it is for everyone else. And it
would probably make them happy. They never liked Rina,
and my father was almost mortally offended when I gave up
the boss post and appointed Emilio instead."
I raised an eyebrow but saved my answer because the
guests had followed us outside to the parking lot and
continued to cheer.
Fortunately, outside of the ceremony, they had only
insisted that we kiss one more time.
Vincenzo had tried hard to make it look natural, but we
had both been so uncomfortable it had been almost
embarrassing to even come near him.
A career as an actress was officially crossed off my
imaginary list.
Vincenzo took me to a Bugatti Chiron Super Sport, its
black paint job gleamed in the sunlight. He’d probably
lended it just for the occasion.
"That's not exactly the kind of wedding car you'd
expect," I said with amusement, for which I earned a grim
look.
"I told Carlotta not to plan for that little detail," he
explained, opening the door one-handed and putting me
down. I didn't know how I would fit the dress in the car.
Maybe that was also because I had not paid attention
earlier when they had put the dress on me. Vincenzo used
deft fingers to loosen some buttons and bows on the skirt,
and, within seconds, I stepped out of the flared part
without suddenly standing there half-naked.
Whoever had designed the dress must have had
something like this in mind.
Vincenzo passed the skirt to Carlotta, who had joined us
at the car.
"Still looks really good," Carlotta said, glancing down at
the now rather summery dress that nestled loosely against
my legs. The white fabric flowed with every movement and
allowed the light wind to play with it.
"Get in," Vincenzo muttered, circling the car and sliding
into the driver's seat.
With a queasy feeling, I slid into the passenger seat and
shut the door. At the same moment, the car came to life.
Two seconds later, we shot out of the parking lot and onto
the serpentine road that led back toward Naples.
"Where do you live, anyway?" I asked, looking at him
curiously. I couldn't remember Emilio ever mentioning
anything about him that was more personal than his full
name.
He raised an eyebrow without taking his eyes off the
road. "I hope you're not too attached to civilization.
Because it's sparse out there."
Whatever 'out there' meant. He didn't seem like
someone who lived in the middle of nowhere, without water
and electricity. If that were the case, he would not have
bought this car but a horse-drawn carriage.
"The closest village is Tramonti. Does that mean
anything to you?"
I dug deep into my memory but could not recall hearing
the name.
"It's a small village in the middle of the mountains.
There are a lot of forests. There are also a lot of vineyards,
and tourists stray into the area every once in a while."
"But surely not on your property?"
He snorted. "Of course not. It wouldn't be a good idea to
stray there."
"Why? Because you stand behind the window like an old
hermit with a shotgun, shooting them down like clay
pigeons when they get too close?" I promptly bit my
tongue, sure I had said something wrong.
But Vince laughed. Warm and masculine, it touched me
more than the conversations we'd had so far. "That's one
way to describe it," he mumbled, shaking his head.
 "The villa is a little outdated, I must admit. But there's
an indoor Jacuzzi and a pool outside. I've taken the liberty
of replacing your possessions."
I looked at him. Surprised. He had heard that my father
had burned down my house and everything in it.
"Is this some kind of trick I can't see through?"
Again he laughed. "Absolutely not. To be transparent I'm
already looking for a replacement property on the coast so
you can move into your own place as soon as possible. As I
said, I have no interest in turning this farce into anything
other than what it is."
This time, an amused sound escaped me. Vincenzo
sounded like a businessman rattling off the facts with no
personal connection to the topic he was discussing.
I envied him for being so untouched by the whole thing.
For days I had been thinking about what it would be like to
live with this man who, according to the rumors, had killed
his wife. Maybe he was just playing a nice guy so he could
gain my trust? That made it easier to kill his victims, didn't
it?
I fought the joy that had gathered in me, given his
words, and concentrated on the essentials. It was still only
statements that he made. As long as no action followed, it
was simply smoke and mirrors.
"You mentioned I could continue working for Emilio." I
changed the subject without a word of thanks.
How could I thank him when he might be luring me into
a trap? I would certainly not fall into it, beaming with joy.
Vincenzo accelerated the car as soon as we were on a
relatively straight stretch of road. The mountains rose in
the distance, and I instinctively knew that amidst the
massive wooded landscape lay my new home.
"Of course. Your devices have also been replaced."
This time I couldn't help myself. "Thank you," I said.
I didn't think he knew that virtually my entire life had
taken place behind a screen. I could spend hours following
Emilio's instructions and researching all the vital
information for him. Often I got lost in my interests… and
online games.
In my youth, I'd had to deal with enough people to be
quite content not to have them around me every day. All the
tedious social occasions my father had dragged me to for
one reason only… to show me off. All the superficial
conversations, all the smiling. All the guys who thought
they were superior and preferred to leave the women alone
to talk about serious topics instead of finding common
ground.
No matter how you looked at it, I'd had enough of the
ways of the Mafia families. If I had my way, this wedding
would be the only thing I would see in this capacity for a
long time.
"Fiero will visit from time to time," he mentioned after
the silence had gone on for too long.
I wondered why he, of all people, and not one of
Vincenzo's brothers.
"Other than that, no one ever really comes by," he
continued as if he had followed my train of thought.
"Do they even know where you live? Your siblings, I
mean."
"They know at least the rough coordinates. But none of
them have been there yet."
"Aren't you going to invite them?"
"I prefer to visit them at Emilio's villa."
"What about your wife? Did you live together in
Tramonti?"
He looked at me. The expression in his eyes said one
thing above all: I told you, I'm not talking about that
subject.
A sigh escaped him before he shook his head. "No. I
didn't move there until after."
A short time later, the car turned into a long driveway
lined on the right and left by giant trees. Barely a ray of
light made it through the leafy canopy. At the other end of
the avenue waited what Vincenzo had described earlier as
a villa. A somewhat larger house of old construction, as one
was used to in the Italian countryside. Large. Spacious.
Airy.
Upstairs, the curtains billowed in the gentle breeze
blowing from the surrounding mountains.
Although we were still in front of the house, I could see
two much smaller houses behind the villa. In the past, that
had not been unusual.
I promptly missed my little house right on the Amalfi
Coast. It hadn't had much to offer, but it had become my
home in recent years. I doubted that this run-down patch of
earth could do the same.
To the right and left, stretched meadows with fruit trees,
and in between, I recognized trails that led into the
adjacent vineyards.
Out the back was nothing but forest. Forest, forest,
forest. As far as the eye could see. I wondered what kind of
animals crept across the property at night.
goosebumps formed on my arms. Vincenzo had tolerated
my inspection of the surroundings, but now he opened his
door and got out.
I wondered how he had come to live here, of all places.
The other families would not only laugh at him for his
choice of residence but outright disown him.
Was this the punishment for killing his wife? Had Emilio
banished him here, or was the little story he told me earlier
true?
Carefully, I got out and shielded my eyes from the sun.
Hesitantly, I followed Vincenzo up the stairs to the old
wooden door. It didn't look as if it would necessarily
withstand an intruder.
He pushed it open and thus cleared the way for me into
the comparatively cold interior. As I had suspected, the
floor was darkly tiled, and the windows were covered to
such an extent that hardly a ray of sunlight penetrated. The
house seemed to be open to the back – at least currently-
because the pool view was unobstructed.
The interior merged practically seamlessly with the
terrace. At least the pool seemed well-maintained because
the water shimmered blue and cast bright light spots on its
surroundings.
It was hard for me to imagine Vincenzo in a bathing suit,
sitting in the pool and enjoying the water. Did he swim
naked? Merda. I was definitely not prepared to live
together like in a shared apartment.
"You can look around the house yourself. I would just ask
you to stay away from my side. The cellar is also off-limits.
Unless you plan to see how a rescue operation with search
dogs goes. You can use anything you want, any way you
want. If you need anything or have any questions, the best
thing to do is contact me. The kitchen is back there, the key
for the car is next to the front door, and the important
areas are video monitored. Just in case one of the tourists
gets lost, and I don't have a shotgun handy."
I stared at him and nodded. That did sound relatively
reasonable. "And what about everything else?"
"What about everything else?"
"My father has clearly told me that he expects
offspring."
Vincenzo snorted. "Taddeo can go fuck himself. For all I
care, you can tell him I'm biologically incapable of it."
I opened my mouth slightly but closed it again
immediately. That was more than convenient for me. I
wasn't going to spend the rest of my life as an almost single
mother.
"Okay," I finally replied. "See you later."
Something told me, as soon as I said it, that I would not
see Vincenzo for a long time.
M y gaze slid upward to the high ceiling as I stood alone in
the vast room between the two wings and the terrace,
somehow connecting all parts of the house.
The sun did not penetrate through the thick walls and
windows, except for the transition to the garden area.
I looked in the direction Vincenzo had disappeared and
turned toward the other, for his instructions had been clear.
I wondered if I should spend my time here alone until he
found a new, suitable house for me. If he found one.
I had no problem being alone but I also hadn't lived in
the same house as someone who avoided my presence.
Before I set off in search of my bedroom, I threw caution
to the wind. What was the point of tiptoeing around the
villa if he wasn't interested in what I was doing anyway?
I followed a hallway that ended in a staircase that led
upstairs. There were a few more rooms downstairs, but
they were the kitchen, the living room, and what had
looked like an office through the open door.
Once upstairs, everything already seemed brighter.
Several doors led off the long corridor. I suspected
Vincenzo didn't usually use this part of the house because,
at first impression, everything seemed clean, but if you
looked more closely, you discovered the cobwebs in the
corners and the streaks on the windows.
I pushed open the first door and faced a bathroom with a
claw-foot tub. Fresh towels were piled up on a small
cabinet, as was a shopping bag with the label of a
drugstore.
Curious, I looked inside and realized that the person
who had done the shopping had a pretty good idea of what
I did and didn't need. Even toiletries had made it into the
bag. A whole selection of them.
 I raised my eyebrow and emptied the contents. Soap, in
various scents. Shampoo. Conditioner. A toothbrush and
toothpaste. Mouthwash. Sunscreen. Body lotion. Bath salts.
I could have continued the list endlessly because half the
drugstore's product range had been purchased.
I wondered if Vincenzo had taken care of it himself for a
brief moment. Then I remembered who he was and realized
he had probably sent one of the family's employees to spare
himself the unnecessary stress.
I didn't tidy up before moving on to the next room and
ending up in the bedroom. It was spacious and furnished in
a reasonably modern way. There were light sheets on the
bed, the curtains were made of thick, dark fabric, and the
view from the windows was of the valley, not the mountains
behind the house.
Here, too, I found some shopping bags, but this time
from a clothing store. I recognized the brand and
instinctively guessed that Emilio must have taken care of it.
In the very beginning, shortly after I had asked him for
help, he had taken me shopping and, since then, I never
went anywhere else. After me, he had probably changed
the protocols in this regard because I knew he shopped
strictly online for Flavia.
A phone call had probably been enough for the lovely
ladies there to provide a complete selection of outfits,
which all fit me both in size and style. After all, they had
provided my clothes for the last few years.
Shoes were also among the new acquisitions.
I wondered if my father had told him that he had
provided me with only the bare necessities for my short
stay with him. Or had Vincenzo simply assumed that
because my home had burned down?
I decided to put things away in the closet later and
instead went to the nightstand to place the ring on it. It
was simply too flashy and unwieldy to wear all day. Besides,
it didn't matter, so there was no reason to wear it daily.
 The sapphire sparkled in the sunlight streaming through
the window. How long would it be before I was free? Living
in my own four walls again? Maybe I should try to find a
suitable property myself?
Hadn't he mentioned something about replacing my
equipment as well? I looked around the room, spotted
another door, and pushed it open, only to pause.
Countless lights flashed. I could hardly believe my eyes.
This was more than I had owned before. More modern.
More powerful.
I opened my mouth, expelled the air, and closed it again.
Before changing my mind, I pulled the chair out from under
the colossal desk and dropped into it. With a click of the
mouse, I brought the computer to life. Several screens
flared up, showing me it had not yet been fully set up.
Everything else around me was forgotten as soon as I
started working on the basic settings. I forgot I was still
wearing the wedding dress and had actually wanted to
change. I also forgot that there was still a lot to discover,
my stomach growled, and I had a lot to do before I could
even feel halfway comfortable.
None of that was relevant anymore, as I dived entirely
into the digital world, setting some reminders to specific
keywords so I didn't miss any houses listed from today on.
I also mulled over doing a background check on
Vincenzo now that I had the opportunity but ultimately
decided against it. Maybe he would tell me everything I
wanted to know on his own?
Well, I could hardly ask him if he had actually killed his
wife. But I wouldn't find that out if I searched the Internet
and the dark web for information. In the end, only a few
people knew, and Google was certainly not one of them.
I made a mental note that I needed to thank him. Not
only for the set-up but also because he deceived my father
and apparently wanted to make sure I could return to my
old life.
OceanofPDF.com
 5

VINCENZO

E milio's number lit up on the display of my phone for

the third time in the last fifteen minutes. I didn't
usually keep him waiting, if only because, in the
back of my mind, there was always the chance that
someone was in trouble and needed help. But in this case, I
was sure it was about something else.
And this something bore the name Taddeo Santoro. And
he wanted to know how the first night with my new wife
had gone.
I could only shake my head at that. Was it becoming
customary again to monitor newlyweds during their first
night to ensure the marriage was consummated? An
unenthusiastic sound escaped me.
He had already hinted at wanting proof of this, and
something told me he would not let go of this notion. Why
was he so sure that Amedea had entered into the marriage
a virgin? She was old enough to have had more than one
relationship. And just because she had hidden from her
father didn't mean she had hidden from all men.
I wasn't interested, but that her father was itching to
find out this information made me wonder.
Was he pursuing more than his interest in marriage?
Was he concerned about the descendants he wanted so
badly because he had not fathered any sons and did not
want to bequeath his fortune to a woman?
The more I thought about it, the worse my opinion of
Taddeo became. In so far as that was possible. After all, he
had not made a good impression from the first minute – not
even initially, several years ago, and even less so when he
had strolled into Emilio's office and made demands.
My cell phone rang again, and this time I knew I
couldn't put off talking to my brother any longer. With a
sigh, I picked up and put the phone on speaker.
"Did you not catch the first three calls, or should I be
worried?" he began without a word of greeting. Not
unusual for our phone calls. I tended to leave out all the
unnecessary stuff anyway, and at some point, my younger
brother had gotten into the habit of doing the same.
Like many things, he had picked up during my time as
mafia boss. Whether this made him more or less a better
leader remained to be seen.
"I didn't feel like talking," I replied truthfully. It was no
use lying to him when he could already guess I had ignored
him.
"Of course. I had to talk a lot today because of that. Do
you want to guess with whom?"
"Taddeo Santoro," I growled.
I imagined Emilio nodding and staring out at the rose
garden because he didn't know how to continue the
conversation. Yet I knew exactly how it would go. In some
respects, Delphi's Oracle was no competition for me.
"Good, then we can skip that part already."
What other parts were there to discuss? I suspected
nothing good.
"Just tell me what it's about."
"You could come here and talk to me about it in private,"
he suggested.
"Right, and leave her alone up here in the mountains."
 "She's an adult and in a massive villa, right? Unless the
rare case occurs and a UFO falls out of the sky and sucks
her in with a laser beam, she should be safe."
"Mmm," I mumbled, unenthusiastic about the sarcasm
inherent in his voice.
Emilio had no idea. And if he had… well, better he
remained ignorant.
"I'm not coming to Naples. Just tell me now what the
problem is."
"He insists on proof. If you don't provide it, he threatens
to… well, the threat is serious and should not be
disregarded."
"Emilio," I groaned.
Was he serious? Had he not learned from the last few
years? And what kind of boss was he if he let himself be
blackmailed by a runaway idiot like Taddeo Santoro?
Could he really not be left without supervision at all?
"What?"
"What is he threatening?"
"You shouldn't worry about that."
"Of course. And Dario is Santa Claus," I growled. Again
and again, he tended to make the same damn mistake. Why
did he still think he had to handle all the problems alone
when he had me and Dario by his side? And our cousins?
Carlotta? Plus a whole host of loyal men who did everything
for him without question? Without showing any scruples?
"He's threatening to kill people close to us one by one,
okay? Maybe you should just do what he asks. After that…
he can't say anything."
"Until he then insists on being present at his grandson's
conception. Sure. No issue. There was nothing else planned
but this wedding." What was wrong with ambushing the
guy tonight, drugging him, and shipping him off to the
cellar with the other men who were there awaiting their
fates?
 I could treat him like all the others and make sure he
died quickly and was never found again. Unfortunately, that
would raise questions, and if there was one thing I didn't
need, it was someone poking their nose into my business
and snooping around to find out what had happened.
Emilio remained silent.
I shook my head, even though he couldn't see it. "I will
not sleep with that woman."
"Then just figure out how to provide proof without doing
that."
What did he expect? That I ruin one of my expensive
sheets by smearing blood on it?
I snorted. "I'll tell her to figure something out. After all,
we've already done her a big favor."
"Enzo," Emilio warned.
"What?"
"Should it come to my attention that you are not treating
her properly…"
What did he think of me? Did he really believe that
Rina's death had turned me into a heartless, cold fish? In a
way, it might be accurate, but that didn't mean that deep
inside, there wasn't still some empathy alive.
"I think it's cute how you're always meddling in your
siblings' affairs, even though it's none of your business." I
almost said relationships, but that wouldn't have been true.
After all, I hadn't seen Amedea since yesterday and was
glad to have successfully avoided her.
"Sure. Sweet. Until the point where it gets serious."
I rolled my eyes. "How's Flavia?"
"Dazzling. But we're talking about Dea here, not my
girlfriend."
"After Taddeo's threat, one is allowed to ask questions."
"Better not push it too far, Enzo. You're lucky that
Carlotta excused you to our parents yesterday. They were
all fired up to meet your new, hopefully perfect, wife."
 "And I was all fired up to get as far away as possible," I
grumbled. I could easily imagine how our parents had
turned up at the chapel, ready to put Amedea through the
wringer and to not leave a good mark on me either.
That was my mother's specialty – judging people based
on first impressions without getting to know them better.
Her sixth sense had let her down a time or two, not least
with Rina, who, in her eyes, had never been the right
woman for her eldest son.
How ironic that my wife had perished at the hands of
her family, for whom Rina had never been the perfect
daughter. Even her marriage to me had not saved her from
the ridicule and attacks of her family. And where had it led?
To her death. Maledizione.
"You will have to meet with them. Sooner or later,"
Emilio said. It was only a well-intentioned statement, and
yet it awakened anger in me.
Amedea was not close to me, yet everything in me
resisted throwing her to the wolves. To put another woman
in danger because of my family just didn't seem fair.
"I prefer later. And without Amedea's presence."
Emilio made an undefinable noise. "How is she?"
"Why don't you call her and ask? I'm not her chaperone."
"Ah. You have no idea."
I said nothing. It was none of Emilio's business how I
lived with the woman he had hidden from her father for
years now.
I remained silent. So at some point, Emilio simply said
goodbye and hung up.
OceanofPDF.com
 6

AMEDEA

I successfully deluded myself into thinking this was

nothing more than a vacation. In a rather poorly
chosen vacation spot, but a vacation anyway. I had no
work so far, could do what I wanted all day, and did not
even have to cook, because I found meals in the fridge
every time hunger drove me to the kitchen.
Either Vincenzo enjoyed cooking, or he had meals
delivered regularly. Whatever it was, I certainly wouldn't
complain about it.
Armed with a book and a towel, I made my way outside.
The midday sun had passed its zenith, so it should be
enjoyable at the pool.
With the clothes they had bought for me, I also found a
bikini that fitted like a glove. The ladies in the boutique
were excellent.
I always kept in mind that Vincenzo was also running
around somewhere, but since I hadn't seen him yet, I
wasn't worried that it would happen now.
Once outside, I noticed the pool stretched for about
twenty yards and was at least five wide. It wasn't just a
pool – it passed for twice the size of a regular outdoor pool.
And Vincenzo had all of that to himself without ever using
it? I remembered well the unbearably hot days on the
coast, which had not become more pleasant even after a
dip in the sea.
Of course, there were no sun loungers or a parasol, so I
put my book and towel aside and looked around with my
hands on my hips. He had to have something like that. No
one had a pool but no outdoor furniture.
My gaze fell on the two adjacent, much smaller houses.
Was he using one of them as a large storage room? I could
have just found him and asked, but it was easier to look for
myself.
The flip-flops were only moderately suitable for the walk
across the lawn to the tiny house on my right. I peered
through one of the windows, ignoring that the grass almost
reached my chest. Inside, I saw a dusty car and what
looked like a workshop.
Of course. The car got its own house, but the pool didn't
even get a sun lounger. Fantastico.
With a snort, I crossed the garden and made my way to
the other house, which had no windows on the side facing
the main house and pool. Even better.
I fought through the tall grass but quickly realized that
no one had bothered to maintain the path for quite a while.
In addition, it stank beastly.
I raised my hand to my nose, wondering why I hadn't
noticed the smell before.
I made it to the corner of the house, then my path was
blocked by a massive chain-linked fence that had previously
been hidden by the tall grass and bushes. Why would
Vincenzo fence off this part of his property of all places?
So there was no sun lounger here either?
With a snort, I pushed the branch aside so that I could at
least peek through the fence to the other side. The stench
was clearly coming from there. Like a…
I stumbled back, screamed, and promptly landed on my
butt. Eyes wide, I watched as the huge cat came at me,
unable to move an inch. Or to breathe.
 Giant cat.
Giant cat with black stripes and orange fur.
Tiger.
Merda.
The majestic animal stared back at me with bright
green, almost yellow eyes, and I wasn't sure whether to
curse, scream, or run away. Ultimately, my paralyzed body
decided it was best not to move at all, preferring to watch
the cat lick its nose and meow as only house cats usually
did. Well, not meow. More like a roar. Loud. Dangerous.
My heart drummed in my chest. I felt sick when my eyes
fell on the enormous paws of the animal.
Saints. Shit.
And all that separated us was the measly chain-linked
fence? Tigers weren't even native to Italy!
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I winced and
screamed again, suddenly jumping up and whirling around.
More than shocked, I stared at Vincenzo, who looked at
me with a grim expression.
"Could you stop yelling like that? She doesn't like it."
"SHE?!"
"The tiger is female. Her name is Gattina."
"Gattina?"
"Yes. Are you hard of hearing?"
"Why does the damn tiger have a name?!"
"Because she lives here."
"And you were going to tell me this when?"
"Preferably never."
I snorted and scowled at him. "A tiger lives on your
property, and you were going to keep it from me?"
"Well… when you put it that way. We also house a
mountain lion, Simba, and a female leopard named Daisy."
"Sure. Maybe a herd of elephants, too?"
Irritated, he looked at me. "Why should I keep
elephants?"
"Why do you keep large wild cats?" I groaned.
 He couldn't be serious!
"What are you doing back here anyway?"
"I was looking for a lounge chair for the pool."
"You won't find them here."
"Oh, but a tiger."
"She's basically harmless." Like an absolute psychopath,
he went to the fence, stretched half his arm through the
bars, and began to scratch the much too-large cat under
the chin.
"Why do you keep wild cats, Vincenzo?" I asked again,
staring at him in disbelief. Since when was it a good idea to
bring his extremities near a predatory cat?
"Gattina is harmless, really. She is missing most of her
teeth. She came from a zoo abroad that didn't take good
care of her welfare. So are the other two ladies, by the
way."
"Sure. And you thought to yourself, why not? Can't be
much harder than with a cute Maine Coon."
"Actually, I thought it would be a shame if no one gave
them a second chance at a significantly better life, and they
were euthanized because a handful of people were unable
to take proper care of them."
I exhaled loudly. And hated him for making it sound
plausible and understandable.
"You still shouldn't be around them. I have no idea how
they'll react to other people."
"You mean they won't let just anyone touch them?"
"I mean, I could easily imagine them trying their luck if
they get the opportunity. Especially the leopard, it can be
hazardous."
"Sure. Okay. Wow. Emilio didn't mention any of that. Not
once."
"Because my brother doesn't know about them."
Irritated, I looked at him.
"This is not a petting zoo for my troubled siblings."
"Sure, your siblings are the disturbed ones."
 "What are you trying to imply?" he asked with a raised
eyebrow, still petting the tiger.
Meanwhile, my heart was racing, although I had long
since calmed down on the outside. I couldn't believe he
hadn't at least warned me.
"Nothing. I'd just like to know what other surprises
await me here. Besides a tiger, a mountain lion, and a
leopard, of course."
He looked at me piercingly for a few seconds but said
nothing. Somehow I got the feeling that he had more than
one other secret that he wasn't planning to tell me.
Goosebumps formed on my arms. "I'm going back to the
pool," I announced and turned around so I could quickly
escape.
Since there were no loungers, I spread my towel on the
natural stone tiles, sat down, and opened my book. Out of
the corner of my eye, I squinted in the direction from which
I had just come.
You couldn't guess from my seat that there was an
enclosure back there for a rescued tiger, which supposedly
posed no danger.

A shadow crept in front of my face, and when I looked

up, I noticed that Vincenzo was standing over me, looking
at me with a grim expression. What was it with this man
that never looked exuberant or halfway cheerful for even a
second?
I raised an eyebrow questioningly, unsure what he
expected from me. Did he want me to vacate my spot by the
pool, even though I wasn't doing anything that might
bother him? Or had he tolerated me near him long enough
today and wanted to send me inside, as one did with small
children?
Instead of asking him what brought him to me, I kept
looking at him, waiting for him to say what was on his
mind.
It couldn't be that hard, could it? I had never learned to
read minds – probably much to his regret.
Finally, he crossed his arms. The former mafia boss
really had a lot of trouble saying what was on his mind.
It felt like half an eternity of just staring at each other.
Eventually, he emitted an annoying noise. "I have a few
questions for you."
"I see," I replied. "And it took you five minutes to say
that?"
A steep wrinkle formed on his forehead as if he had not
expected this retort.
"I wasn't sure if I should ask you or not."
"Why?"
"Because some topics of conversation are better left
alone. "
More confused than before, I straightened up a little. I
hated that he was standing over me, looking down at me.
"So what's this about?"
"Your father."
Of course. I should have guessed he hadn't come out to
have a pleasant get-to-know-you conversation. Sighing, I
leaned back again and propped myself up on my arms.
"What do you want to know?"
"How great is his value to the mafia, really?"
I snorted. I guess he always got right to the point. "Do
you really think he would have spoken to me about that?"
"I think you're a brilliant woman, and you've picked up a
thing or two over the years. Even while you weren't living
with him."
Vincenzo was not entirely wrong, but I was unsure
whether I should actually pass this information on to him.
Why did he ask for it at all? No one asks questions like that
for no reason.
"What is it about?" I replied instead of responding to his
statement.
"Your dad is an annoying jerk."
"That's not news to me." I looked attentively at
Vincenzo, hoping to read something on his face, but not the
slightest emotion was reflected there. He was good at
hiding his inner life from the outside world.
"Have you always been like this?" I asked before I could
bite my tongue to hold back my cheeky question.
"Like what?"
"The grim look, the dark aura, the impenetrable
expression… as if there was no sunny side in your life." For
me, there was none right now because Vincenzo was tall
enough to immerse me entirely in shadow.
As if to punctuate my statement, he scowled at me.
"That's none of your business. Not everyone can be the
embodiment of raggio di sole," he said it snidely and
condescending.
I ignored his comment. "Is it related to your wife and her
death?" I continued to probe.
Not only because I was interested but also to show him
how uncomfortable it was to talk about family members
that should be betrayed in some way. I wouldn't have
minded my father ending up at the sharp end of a knife, as
long as I didn't know any details.
His upper lip twitched, and I almost expected him to
explode. Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he seemed
even calmer than before. Almost deadly.
"You mean, was I different before?"
I nodded. Would he actually answer me?
He tilted his head. "I was many things before, which I
am not now."
His words sounded final as if he would say nothing more
about it, no matter how hard I tried to persuade him. So I
didn't even ask what that meant.
"Now answer my question."
"Is he causing problems?"
"You can call it that."
I averted my eyes, only to look directly at Vincenzo
again. Before I left, I had spent weeks trying to find out
everything I could about my father and his business. I made
an agonized noise before I started to explain.
"All the companies he owns are just a cover for what he
is doing. There are official exports abroad, some of those
are not recorded or reported to Emilio. He has a few good
contacts in Africa with mercenaries and pirates who
plunder any freighters in coastal areas that cannot protect
themselves. But those are few and far between because
there is little information about the illegal activities there
and no survivors on the freighters to tell about it. He
worked many years to pave the way for these people to get
to the Mediterranean, only here, the conditions are
different, and the protection is better. So he's working on
getting someone into the appropriate authorities who will
turn a blind eye and help him take it to the next level," I
told him, pausing only to catch my breath. "He's not a
particularly good man, certainly not by Mafia standards. I
know what's been going on with Emilio and Dario over the
last few years, and compared to my father, you could call
them saints."
"He could have sold you to some leader of those pirate
groups." Was that mockery in his voice?
I snorted. "That would have meant he could no longer
have any influence over me."
"Because he continues to hold out for you to have
children so he can have an heir?"
I rolled my eyes. Even if I were to have children
someday, I certainly wouldn't leave them to my father to
turn into little soldiers to serve his purposes. "I don't think
that's going to happen."
 "You don't want kids?"
"I want my children to be my children, not my father's
toys."
"Wise decision."
"And you? Why didn't you ever have any?" I asked,
courage on my side again because we were in the middle of
a deep conversation making it more difficult to refuse to
answer.
Vincenzo looked at me thoughtfully. He couldn’t deny
that, regarding his age, he should’ve been more than ready
to have children.
"If you ever tell anyone about this…"
I rolled my eyes. "You don't have to threaten me. Just tell
me to keep it to myself."
He did not respond to that. "Rina was not able to have
children. We tried for a very long time, but… well. That's in
the past."
I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more he
would have liked to say, but he was getting in his own way
and just couldn't bring himself to be honest with me.
"Why did you want to know about my father?"
"So I can weigh whether or not it is wise to kill him."
"Why now? You could have done it days ago, and the
wedding would have been moot."
"Because I thought it was unwise at the time, but now
he's starting to make more demands that I'm not willing to
meet. But it continues not to be a wise idea to act rashly."
I nodded. "Maybe you should talk to Emilio about it. I
can put together all the files I have accumulated on him."
"Why didn't you ever tell Emilio about it before? He
could have taken care of it years ago."
I raised my shoulders and swallowed. "Because he's my
father, and I never wanted to be the one to deal him a
death blow."
"If anything happens to him, it's not your fault."
 I pressed my lips together and hoped that the
conversation was over. It was hard to imagine Vincenzo
saying such things to calm me down and remove some of
the anxiety that had suddenly risen in my stomach.
It was not very reassuring to hear him speak
indifferently about the death of another person, who was
also my father. Again and again, I had to remind myself that
I was talking about Vincenzo de Archard. The former boss
of the mafia. There was probably far more blood on his
hands than I could or wanted to imagine. I didn't know if I
could still deal with him so light heartedly once I was fully
aware of everything he had to answer for.
I watched him saunter back into the house and
disappear into his rooms as if we had never had this
conversation. He would probably behave in precisely the
same way whenever we met again.
OceanofPDF.com
 7

VINCENZO

W ith my arms crossed, I stood at the end of the

low aisle and stared through the bars at my
right before turning to my left and looking into
the small cell to ensure nothing had changed.
Fiero had been busy keeping our prisoners quiet all
week and making sure they didn't accidentally give away
their presence. I had warned Amedea not to go into the
cellar, but she did not seem like a woman who followed
instructions and did what she was told.
On the contrary, she was curious enough to climb down
the stairs and see if I had told her the truth about the
danger of collapsing and getting lost. Not for nothing had it
been necessary to put an additional lock on the door that
led to the cellar.
I was stared at with sunken eyes, but I did not feel the
slightest bit of pity for the poor souls down here waiting to
see what fate would befall them.
For the moment, they were tormented with Fiero
gagging their mouths and tightening their bonds. He had
also come up with the idea of changing their meals. Instead
of throwing some food at their feet once a day, Fiero had
thoroughly researched what it took to feed someone
through a feeding tube.
 It was a new, unprecedented level of cruelty, but every
single man sitting down here deserved it. Only five were
left; by the night's end, there would be two.
Until Amedea moved out, I had to pause the whole
project, even though some days it was the only thing that
kept me together and made sure I didn't lose my mind.
I leaned against the bars, pulled out the phone, and
checked to make sure Fiero was on his way and that the
booking for tonight still stood. I sent the clients the location
where we would meet and some final info they needed
before we could start the hunt.
"Tonight you meet your maker, mostros," I growled,
taking down the water hose from the wall and spraying out
the cells. Infections were undesirable; therefore, it was
important to ensure a certain level of hygiene down here.
Besides, it stank less then and just because I took care of it
didn't mean it was pleasant for the middle-aged men.
After all, the water was icy cold, they had hardly any
clothes and certainly no comfortable bedding, and I also,
denied them any luxury. The scum of our society did not
deserve more. No more was due to wife beaters or sex
criminals.
The only thing they deserved was death, and even that
they had to wait for before I allowed them their last chance
to escape this fate.
I hummed a happy song while spraying the rest of the
cells, hardly noticing the captured men. They were bound,
fixed to the stone walls, and had no possibility of escaping
or harming me.
They should know I was not interested in them or what
happened to them. They enjoyed my full attention only
twice during their stay: when I kidnapped them, and killed
them.
I replaced their names with abbreviations, making it
easier for me to track my successes.
 In total, I spent maybe thirty minutes in the cellar
because the real fun occurred later when night had fallen
over the mountains.

I stared at Fiero over the glow of the small fire. Our

events were already typically risky, but with Amedea's
presence on the property, this risk had not exactly
decreased. And her curiosity would cost her everything
sooner or later. I had to find a way to keep her at a distance
and make her stay in her rooms instead of exploring like
she was on a damn adventure.
"We can't afford to make mistakes," I muttered.
Especially not tonight. The woods behind the house were
dense and not a place an average person would enter at
this hour, but I was sure I was harboring prying ears in my
home.
"We've never made a mistake before," Fiero replied
irritably. "Are you nervous? About Amedea?"
I rolled my eyes. "She has a particular talent for asking
the right questions. And it's getting harder to give the
wrong answers."
"She's only been with you for two days."
"That's two days too many," I growled, thinking about
what had already happened in those forty-eight hours
beside the wedding.
I had assumed I would have no further problems once
she was my wife on paper and under my protection. But her
father didn't seem to want to give up and not only harassed
Emilio with his demands and left me almost no choice but
to come up with a solution that neither she nor I would like.
We had established that killing him was not an option for
the time being.
Did Taddeo really think he enjoyed such significant
advantages because he had hawked her to a de Archard? I
would rather emigrate before I accepted him as part of the
family, privileges and all.
I wrinkled my nose just thinking about it.
Fiero laughed. "I guess you should have thought better
of it. Before."
"And you should think about what you say to me
tonight." There was a warning undertone in my voice.
I couldn't wait for our customers to show up and for the
hunt to begin.
"Tonight, among others, the guy beat his girlfriend to
death. Her father wants to be the one to kill him. Also, a
mother comes along whose unborn child almost died
because of a man. And the brother of a young girl who was
raped by the third guy." It was only a brief summary of the
external circumstances so Fiero could behave accordingly.
Some of our clients changed their minds at the last
second and did not dare to kill another person, but that did
not mean that the perpetrator went unpunished, and we let
him go.
No. It just meant that one of us continued the chase and
ensured that the person fell.
They died like animals, and that's exactly what they
deserved. Everyone who had died on this property in recent
years had earned that and nothing else.
"It sounds like we have another wonderful
constellation," Fiero replied, his eyes fixed on the sports
bag I had brought. It was filled with a small yet refined
selection of weapons. Ones used for close combat, killing
from a distance, or hunting an animal. Whatever the heart
desired of those who would take their revenge tonight and
extinguish life.
I nodded and left it at that.
 Fiero was an intelligent man and had become a close
confidant in recent years. Initially, he knew nothing about
what I did on my property. But at some point, it had
become too much for just one person. So I had let him in on
it because I was sure he would understand my motives.
And he could do that. After all, he had also lost his
girlfriend. She had died before his eyes without him being
able to do anything about it. I felt a sharp sting between my
ribs. It had been almost exactly the same with my wife.
Rina. Only I hadn't recognized the danger in time and had
simply come too late.
There was nothing more I had done except hold her in
my arms and be there for her in her final moments. I didn't
want to think about what had happened afterward. Or how
she had lost her life because she tried to save someone
else.
To my relief, I heard a car slowly approaching. "I guess
the show's starting," I muttered, casting a smug glance at
the three men I had tied to a tree trunk.
You didn't have to be particularly smart to see where
this was going.
If they didn't break their necks in the dark forest, they
would die from a bullet. Or an arrow. A stabbing or some
injury inflicted by a human being.
Our three customers got out of the car. Even at first
glance, I could tell that they had followed my instructions.
Sturdy shoes, multifunctional clothing, gloves, and no loose
hair.
Fiero took over further contact with the two men and
the woman while I moved on to freeing my three prisoners
from their bonds.
"This is going to be very simple," I announced. "You all
know what you're guilty of, and it's time for you to atone."
They were still hindered by the shackles on their wrists.
But soon… soon they would be free. "I grant you a head
start of two minutes. Run as fast and as far as you can if
you want to have a chance to escape. If you've managed to
remain alive when dawn comes, you will have survived the
hunt and earned your freedom. However, you should not
get your hopes up. No one has survived yet."
I grinned, cut the ropes that were around the three
offenders' wrists one by one, and pushed them deeper into
the forest. The first few steps, they merely stumbled,
looking back at me. They were probably wondering if I was
serious about this or if they would get help from the other
people.
Only after a few moments did they probably realize that
we were hunting them, as one did with animals. They could
run away from us, seek shelter, and try to play us off. But in
the end, they would still die. Not without reason were they
at a certain disadvantage.
Naked. Unarmed. A dark forest was full of trip hazards…
but that was precisely how they had treated their victims.
So there was no reason to pity them and give them a fair
trial before a judge.
It took only a few seconds for the three men to be
swallowed up by the darkness. Fiero stepped next to me
and handed me a shotgun and a knife usually used to gut
animals during a hunt.
I pulled out my phone, looked at my watch, and then
calmly opened the tracking app.
The little bastards didn't know they had ingested a GPS
tracker with their last meal via the stomach tube.
We would find them. No matter how well they hid in the
forests and mountains of Tramonti.
"None of them look like they're about to back down for a
change," my cousin informed me.
I nodded. "Good. I don't feel like spending half the night
showing someone the way out of the forest," I muttered,
then turned around so I could take in the small troop.
Fiero had already equipped them with the weapons of
their choice, and they were just waiting to stomp off to hunt
the pigs. I, too, could hardly wait. A little action and
adrenaline were just what I needed after the past two days
and the many problems that would come my way soon.
"Let's give them two more minutes," I muttered, my eyes
back to the forest.
The trees stood close together, root systems protruding
from the ground. Around us, it was almost entirely silent. A
few crickets chirped sporadically, and one could hear one
or two animals creeping through the thicket, but that was
all I heard. As if the forest knew that the hunters had
returned for a new round.
A new round of hunting men who beat, killed, raped, and
did far worse things to women had they been able to.

I could have moved through the forest blindfolded. I

knew every inch by heart where I could put my foot and
where not. I had spent hundreds of hours in this forest,
creating a map in my mind with all the critical markers.
So it was not news to me that there was an abandoned
foxhole about two hundred yards to my right, in a hollow
about two yards deep. You could break your leg if you
didn't know it existed.
A few miles further, a narrow stream dried up entirely in
midsummer, but you could easily follow it to the spring high
up in the mountains. There was always fresh water there.
I knew where every clearing was, every tripping hazard,
and every stone formation, just as I knew where the forest
trails began and which major or minor roads they led to.
But we certainly wouldn't have to chase the three felons
that far. Fiero had set a demanding pace and set out alone
with the three hunters on the search. They didn't know that
I kept a permanent eye on the whereabouts of the hunted
to prevent any unpleasant surprises.
Whoever had killed once would do it again. I could
confidently speak from experience.
As I crept through the deep black forest, always careful
not to draw attention to myself, I thought back to the first
hunt of this kind. It had all started when Rina's family had
fled Italy and tried to hide from me. They realized what a
mistake it had been to kill Rina. Just the attempt and the
thought that they might have gotten away with it, even
though they had messed with me as soon as they had even
raised a hand to her.
Rina had been innocent – she had only been trying to
help her sister-in-law escape a violent relationship. A
violent, toxic family that she had escaped only after we
met.
And how had she been rewarded for this courage? With
death. I clenched my hand into a fist and punched it into
the nearest tree until I felt warm liquid flowing over my
knuckles.
I should have been with her at that last meeting.
Someone should have been with her, even if it had only
been one of my men. But they had cleverly arranged that,
too, and brought the meeting forward at the very last
minute by almost two hours while I had been caught up in
another important meeting. Important. That was laughable.
There should have been nothing more important than
showing up there with her and presenting the barrel of my
gun to those horrible people.
Instead, she had been alone. Alone, while her family had
taken all their hate out on her. All the anger, the rage, and
every nasty emotion.
It wasn't until I had come out of my meeting two hours
later and still hadn't heard from her that my alarm bells
had jumped into warning mode. Much too late, of course.
 I had arrived there, eventually, but much, much too late.
No matter how hard I tried, I still remembered exactly how
the sight of her broken body had torn my heart out.
There had probably not been one bone in her body that
had not been broken. Shattered, partially. She had lain in
her own blood, and the only thing they had spared had
been her face – to hurt me further.
I tore myself away from the memory when I heard a shot
echo through the forest. Had Fiero found one of the
hunters' prey and successfully shot him? With quick steps, I
bridged the distance by several hundred yards. We were
already deep in the forest, which meant it would be torture
to bring the bodies back to the property and cut them up
into morsels fit for the big cats.
The three big cats would never attack a living human
but as soon as human flesh was thrown to them, they
pounced on it enthusiastically. In the end, nothing
remained because even the bones were too mauled to
identify them. Only a DNA test would shed light on the
matter, which was certainly not a problem because the
bones were collected every few weeks and sent to a local
pig farmer, who collected a fat check and asked no
questions.
I reached Fiero, standing there with his arms crossed,
the three hunters in a semicircle around him. They all
stared at something lying on the ground.
When I stepped behind the woman, I realized it was the
child molester. He was still alive, but given the amount of
blood leaking from the wound, that would not be the case
for much longer.
There was something liberating about watching a person
one hated abysmally as he slowly and stertorously forfeited
his life. Dying an agonizing death that could no longer be
averted.
Just like that, I was thrown back to when I had huddled
over the dying members of the Scuderi family and I had
enjoyed every moment of it. It hadn't brought Rina back,
but it gave me the satisfaction necessary to eventually
come to terms with it.
In the first minutes after her death, it had been
unthinkable. It had taken Emilio and Natale to snatch my
wife's body from my arms and another man to even get me
away from the place.
Emilio had taken care of the formalities as much as he
could. The day after her funeral, I had bought that shitty
villa, had handed over my post as boss to my younger
brother, and had spent a year and a half hunting down the
Scuderis so that no one who was somehow to blame for
Rina's death would be alive.
The woman Rina had saved was now living with her two
children somewhere near Florence, leading a life far from
the mafia. I sent her enough money every year that she
didn't have to worry about anything.
I felt the exact moment when the man died at our feet. I
didn't have to look to notice it. The brief shift in the energy
around us was all it took to be sure.
"That was one of three," I muttered. "We should track
down the other two. The gunshot must have spooked
them."
As I stepped over the corpse, I noticed it had not been a
perfect shot. An average hunter would shoot with the
intention of killing, but he would make also sure that it was
over as quickly and painlessly as possible.
For the most part, our hunters were holding a gun for
the first time unless they were professionally involved and
showed up here with a sniper rifle.
Now and then, it even happened that an old
acquaintance from the local police called and asked me for
a favor. As a retired ex-policeman, he apparently missed the
adrenaline of a hunt for a criminal and I didn't say no,
because it brought me certain advantages with the
authorities.
 The group behind me didn't start moving until I had put
some distance between us. Fiero was good at encouraging
and connecting with these people. The business would
probably go much worse if I managed everything. Hardly
anyone wanted anything to do with a grouchy guy who was
part of the mafia and organized not-so-legal manhunts.
Some distance away, I heard a branch crack,
concentrated for a moment, and then heard the heavy
breathing of someone suffering anxiety and had probably
hurt himself.
With a hand signal, I pointed out my discovery to Fiero.
He instructed his three protégés, and, before I knew it,
they were on the move and running in the direction of the
guy who had chosen the worst possible hiding place.
A brief scuffle broke out, but silence suddenly fell – after
an incident that could best be described as baseball bat
meets skull.
Impressed, I approached, looked at the unconscious guy,
and nodded. "You'll have to finish him off. Currently, he's
more of an ICU case in a long-term coma."
"At least then he would suffer forever," the only woman
in the group replied, spitting at the guy on the ground.
I puckered my mouth. "It's unlikely he'll feel much of
anything if he's brain dead."
"Give me that," she said to one of the men, took the
pistol from him, and fired a well-aimed shot that burst the
head of the hunted man like an overripe melon. She handed
back the gun and walked away. "Now he has no brains," she
muttered.
Fiero and I exchanged a quick glance before we started
moving again. That went much better than with our last
hunters.
OceanofPDF.com
 8

AMEDEA

A s soon as I opened my eyes, I remembered last

night. It must have been about two or three in the
morning when I was suddenly jolted out of sleep.
At first, I hadn't realized why because the house had
been quiet, and there had been no apparent reason to wake
up with a pounding heart. But then I remembered the
spontaneous visit of my father and had climbed out of bed
to search the entire room. Afterward, I also made a tour
downstairs and ensured that all the security cameras that
Vincenzo had mentioned were running.
I had just been on my way back to bed when the silence
of the night was broken by a gunshot. Some distance away
and from the mountains, but I was still surprised. This
wasn't the time of day when hunters were usually out, was
it?
Was that what had woken me? With a sinking feeling in
my stomach, I lay back in bed and listened to the silence
until a second shot rang out shortly after. I must have fallen
asleep again when nothing extraordinary followed.
Nevertheless, when I woke up, it apparently still
occupied my mind enough to go purposefully downstairs to
the kitchen after I had showered and dressed. To my
surprise, I found Vincenzo, who seemed in a relatively good
mood for once.
 The steep crease on his forehead seemed smoothed out,
and he didn't look like he was about to stare you to death.
"Is there active hunting around here?" I asked, not
bothering with a greeting.
Wordlessly, Vincenzo put a coffee in front of me.
"Every now and then, I think. Why?"
"Because I woke up suddenly last night and then heard
gunshots."
"You should have gone back to sleep."
I snorted. "Sure. I wake up in the middle of the night
and go back to sleep even though I have a terrible feeling.
The last time I woke up like that, my dad was standing in
my bedroom and burned down my house!"
"Nobody's going to show up here and torch anything,"
he grumbled.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I wouldn't let it happen, simple as that."
And I was supposed to believe him just like that? He
wouldn't let it happen? But was he okay with anyone
hunting near his property in the middle of the night? What
if they accidentally shot the three predators sitting outside
in their enclosures?
Vincenzo pushed the fruit bowl toward me, an invitation
to have some breakfast. However, I continued to look at
him appraisingly.
Did he really not care?
"I don't understand how you can stay so calm. I would
be worried."
"That is completely unfounded. Some would-be hunter
was probably just too stupid to kill the animal he was
hunting with a single shot."
I stared at him without saying anything back. Vincenzo
seemed calm and composed as if he didn't want to discuss
the topic. But there was no reason for that. Was he not
supposed to take my worries seriously after I had confided
in him all of my father's secrets?
 "I'm going to Naples today to see my brother. If you
want, you can come," he continued, changing the subject.
"Thanks, I'll pass," I muttered, reaching for a banana.
Somehow I wasn't in the mood to see the rest of his
family and pretend everything was fine when behind closed
doors, they were probably talking about how to get rid of
my father.
"Good, then I will send Fiero to you for company."
I raised an eyebrow. He didn't keep me company around
the clock. So why did I need his cousin? As a chaperone?
With a sugary smile, I looked at Vincenzo. "Sounds
great. Maybe he'll actually talk to me. A real conversation
would be nice for a change."
"Don't get your hopes up. He's not a big fan of talking
either."
I gave a hiss, concentrated on my banana and coffee,
and ignored him. After a few seconds of silence, Vincenzo
disappeared from the kitchen, leaving me alone.
I couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding
something. But what? This man was a complete mystery.
Was it about his wife? About the property? About his
business with the mafia? About his family?
There were so many possibilities, and in none of them
had he granted me more than a superficial impression.
Even if I accompanied him to Naples now, I would spend
the day at most with Carlotta and hardly see anything of
the others. It was better for me to stay here and get behind
my computer or to pester Fiero with questions. Even
though he would certainly not answer them on Vincenzo's
instructions.
In a bit of a bad mood, I went upstairs to change briefly
before swimming a few laps in the pool. This not only
cleared my head but also kept me fit. The next time my
father faced me and ordered his men to take me, I would
put up more of a fight. That much was certain.
 Fortunately, the pleasantly cool water had another
beneficial effect: I forgot my worries concerning this place
and my husband for a while.

"Are you planning to get sunburnt?" A male voice

successfully snapped me out of my stupor.
I pushed up my sunglasses and spotted Fiero leaning
against the house with his arms folded, watching me.
"Of course not. I own sunscreen, you know," I replied.
"So Vince has gone to Naples now?"
"A while ago already."
So he hadn't thought it necessary to let me know when
he left. I didn't know why that bothered me, but it did.
"And you've been demoted to the babysitter."
"Actually, to the overseer. After you mentioned the thing
with your father and how he was suddenly at your
bedside…"
„…he thought to himself, 'I need someone to look out for
her.'"
"He's not a heartless guy."
I had not assumed that, even if it often seemed that way.
However, the first proof of the opposite was his loving
expression whenever he mentioned his deceased wife. And
even if it was only because he was annoyed I had spoken to
him about it at all.
"I know. But he is a pretty stoic one who isn't exactly
easy to deal with."
"I have nothing to say to that."
I smirked and sat up so I could turn in Fiero's direction.
"Do you know of any hunters around here? I've been
trying to track them down but haven't found any leads."
 "What?" He looked not only surprised but downright
shocked.
"I woke up last night to gunfire and wondered if it was
necessary to go hunting at that time. And I thought I might
reach out to a hunter in charge of the area here."
Deep wrinkles formed on Fiero's forehead. "If you like,
I'll take care of it. I have a few contacts."
He sounded lost in thought but still looked at me directly
and attentively.
I smiled. "Sure, I'd love that. That would be insanely
nice of you."
"No problem."
"Honestly, at first, I thought it had something to do with
my father, and that didn't exactly calm my nerves."
"I can assure you that you are safe here in the house.
Just don't get any ideas about wandering around in the
evening or at night."
"I'm cured of that for now," I replied, nodding toward the
enclosures. I didn't even want to imagine what it would
have been like to encounter the tiger during twilight.
Just the thought made my pulse skyrocket.
Fiero laughed in amusement. "He didn't give you a
heads up, did he?"
"No," I grumbled.
Small laugh lines formed around Fiero's eyes. "That
sounds like him."
"A little warning would have been nice."
"He's just not used to having someone around 24/7
anymore."
I had to laugh at that. Was Fiero serious? It wasn't as if I
got to see Vincenzo all the time. Our encounters were kept
to a bare minimum, and they were not particularly
personal.
Unfortunately, my research for a house still had not
yielded anything. The real estate market was difficult right
now. Much was already sold before it even came to a
listing, and some of the offers were just cheeky in terms of
condition and price.
"Most of the time, he pretends I'm not here."
"I think he prefers that."
"It makes me wonder why he offered to sacrifice himself
in the first place."
Fiero looked at me seriously. "You'd better ask him that.
But I can tell you that he doesn't mean any harm, nor does
he have any strange intentions. It was primarily meant to
offer you some security after your father took it from you
and keep him from harming Emilio."
No one had explained it to me before. I had put it
together from the individual pieces of the puzzle that I had
found, but hearing it out loud was a little different.
So my father not only demanded things but, in a sense,
forced him to do them. He used me as a pawn in this chess
game – I could be sacrificed without giving it a second
thought.
Perhaps he did not realize it, but he had automatically
made me queen by selling me to the black king. I just had
to find a way to lure said king out of hiding.
Perhaps I could become friends with Vincenzo in the
same way I had made friends with Emilio? This would
benefit both of us and, in the end, ensure that my father
had no chance.
At least in theory. In practice, I didn't know a damn
thing about chess and couldn't even defend myself properly
against a kidnapping.
"It would probably have been easier if we had already
been acquainted over the last few years."
"Emilio was always careful to protect your identity. Only
he, Carlotta, and Dario really knew about you. They kept
Natale and me in the dark as well. But it's really nice to
chat with the clever mind behind it all."
Amused, I laughed. "The smart one is and remains
Emilio. I'm just helping him do his job."
 "You tracked down Gia, and in a way, you saved Flavia,
too."
Only, I had not been able to save myself when it came
down to it. If I had tried to escape, I wouldn't be sitting
here today. Only the question remained whether I would be
free somewhere or at the bottom of the sea because my
father had finally had enough of my shenanigans.
"Vincenzo, by the way, said you're not much of a talker."
Fiero tilted his head with a grin. "I adapt to my
audience. Enzo is very secretive, so I am too when I spend
time with him."
"Do you see each other often?"
"As needed."
Whatever that was supposed to mean.
"And do you feel like doing anything exciting with me?"
"As long as it's here in the house." He looked at me with
a furrowed brow.
"We can do it however you prefer."
OceanofPDF.com
 9

VINCENZO

W ith my arms folded, I leaned against the rose

trellis and waited for Emilio to finally join me. I
didn't feel like festering in his office, where his
greeting had disturbed my quite good mood.
The simple question of how it felt to be married again
had caused a short-circuit reaction inside me, and now I
couldn't wait to get back to Tramonti and put as much
distance as possible between Emilio, this villa, and me.
Sometimes my brother was like a bull in a china shop.
This house was full of memories of Rina. Every inch was
paved with them; after all, we had lived here for many
years as a large family. Rina and I, Emilio, Dario, my sister
and at times even Fiero and Natale. The villa was always
full of life, like a large shared apartment.
Some days I wanted to believe that her spirit lived on
within these walls and that she saw everything happening
with us and shook her head at us more than once. However,
it made me uncomfortable to imagine that she was also
aware of the latest developments.
Rina had been the woman I had wanted by my side for
the rest of my life. She was dead. I was alive. And even
though it was only marriage on paper, it felt strange, like a
betrayal.
 Rina had never been the jealous type, and surely it
would disgust her that I had been tormenting myself since
her death. Unfortunately, nothing changed the fact that it
was anything but easy to come to terms with a loss of this
kind.
Emilio appeared at the other end of the garden and
strolled in my direction, his hands buried in his pockets.
Lately, he didn't seem quite so stressed, and I suspected
that it had something to do with our last real problem being
several months ago.
I scowled and wondered if there was anything I had to
say to him. Apart from mauling him for his previous
comment, I could not think of anything.
So everything would revolve around that topic again,
which had already gained more presence over the last few
days.
"You could have brought her, you know?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I offered, but she didn't want
to."
"And you don't think she's capable of staying alone for a
few hours?"
"Fiero is not supposed to babysit her but to make her
feel comfortable." This was only half true because, above
all, he should pay attention to where she went. Preferably
namely not near the enclosures or the cellar. At the
predators, there were probably still the remains of the
three men to see, and in the cellar were still two felons.
I didn't feel like tempting my fate and watching her
uncover my well-kept secret.
"Because you keep bad company?" Emilio inquired with
amusement.
I couldn't help rolling my eyes. What did he expect? That
I would go on friendly trips with Amedea, show her around,
and pretend we were a happy couple on our honeymoon?
Certainly not.
 "Let's just move on to the topic that's actually relevant,"
I grumbled before he threw out any more comments about
my social incompetence.
It had been different in the past. I had no idea how to be
a good host or care for my charge. It felt strange to ensure
she had more than one edible meal in the fridge daily.
"Ah, yes. Santoro continues to get on my nerves. He
insists on proof." Emilio looked at me as if he expected me
to have the perfect solution ready for this.
I had none. And Amedea certainly didn't either.
"Let him shove his proof up his ass. What does he
expect? That we make a porno and send it to him?" I
snorted. It was probably exactly what he wanted. "I would
insanely love to wring his neck."
Of course, I had brought Emilio up to date on Taddeo
and told my brother everything Amedea had said. This
provided new clues but still no plausible justification for his
death. If he died suddenly and someone found out we were
behind it, it would raise questions.
Especially because his fortune would go to Amedea and
thus to me. Which really didn't give a trustworthy
impression.
"If he so much as touched a hair on the head of anyone
in our family…" The intention behind Emilio's words was
clear, and in this case, I had no qualms about hunting the
guy down and showing him exactly what an asshole he was.
"He'll think twice about actually doing it, I'm sure."
"I don't care. I got us two security guards at the villa,
and Natale also checks in occasionally. Gia and Dario have
also taken care of putting up more protection. So if he
thinks he can get to anyone the odds are against him."
His statement reminded me that there were no security
guards at my house, and Amedea had already thought she
was in danger once. Because of her father and how he had
pulled her out of the house on the Amalfi Coast.
 Still, I wouldn't position additional men. Not if it meant
having more prying eyes and ears on the property.
"What about you? Are your security measures up to
date?"
"I live in Fort Knox," I grumbled, cleverly masking the
fact that some nights I didn't even think it necessary to lock
the front door properly.
Who would stumble into my house up there by chance?
The chance of finding anyone even in the vicinity was
extremely unlikely. Besides, I still had cameras and good
surveillance software.
"In any case, we can't stall the man much longer. He will
soon demand an answer." Although Emilio only summarized
the situation, I felt a pang of anger.
When could this issue finally be put to rest? I wanted to
return to the everyday agenda, where Amedea lived on her
own and was no longer in my house.
It couldn't be that hard!
"Tell him to mind his own business," I replied and
walked away. Maybe it was better to keep my stay here as
short as necessary.
I had already thanked Carlotta for taking so much
trouble with the wedding. I also saw Fiero more often than
I liked, and the rest I preferred to avoid because I knew
exactly what kind of questions would rain down on me if I
came near them.
"I'll invite him to a little party," Emilio called after me.
"And then you'd better give him every reason to believe
you're a couple!"
I raised my arm to give him the middle finger. A party? A
play? Who did he think I was anyway?
"This is not a request, Enzo. Think of it as an order.
From your boss."
A growl escaped my throat, but I didn't turn around so I
could take my anger out on him. He would realize soon
enough how stupid this idea actually was.
 "You'll hear from me in the next few days. And if you
don't show up with her, we'll have a big problem."
I ignored his words and sprinted up the stairs onto the
terrace and into the villa so I could get in my Lamborghini
Sián and drive away as quickly as possible.
As little as I liked it, I had to admit it was a better option
than actually having to sleep with her, only to provide her
disgusting excuse of a father with evidence of our
consummation.
I yanked open the car door, dropped into the seat, and
started the engine. As it roared to life, I turned on the
stereo. Glass House by Machine Gun Kelly and Naomi Wild
blared out of the speakers without me even setting the
song.
The music app's shuffle function knew me so well it had
chosen an appropriate song for the current situation.
Impressive. I put the car in reverse and threaded my way
past the parked cars and onto the street. It took a while
before I found myself on a relatively clear road and could
step on the gas.
After all, it was a shame to own a car like this and not
push it to the max every now and then.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew something

was wrong. I couldn't tell what it was, and suddenly I didn't
feel good that Fiero had texted me thirty minutes ago that
he had to leave early.
After five steps into the house it dawned on me what
was irritating me so much. The smell of food wafted from
the kitchen and reminded me that I had not eaten much
today.
 The last few days, I had made a game out of cooking and
eating at times when I was certain I wouldn't run into
Amedea.
However, when I entered the kitchen and saw the table
was set for two, I knew there was no escape today.
Maybe if I snuck back and disappeared straight into my
half of the house?
My plan was nipped in the bud because, at the exact
moment, Amedea turned around with a big grin. When she
looked at me like that, it was like the sun shone out of her.
I hated it.
"Actually, I thought you'd be gone longer," she noted,
stirring a pan.
There was also something in the oven, and I couldn't
shake the feeling that she was pursuing a specific plan.
"Worked itself out quicker than I thought possible," I
replied, pausing in the kitchen doorway.
I was pretty content to watch the spectacle from a
distance and not get in her way.
"What's that going to be when it's done?" I asked, little
enthusiasm in my voice.
Amedea gave me a reprimanding look but said nothing
to the undertone I struck. "You've been cooking for me the
last few days, so I thought it would be nice to return the
favor."
Was there any way to decline the offer without being
unfriendly? As if to laugh at me, not a second later, my
stomach growled, loudly informing Amedea that I was
hungry.
Wonderful. So the tiny chance of getting out of here was
gone. I sat down at the table, reluctantly.
"Nice," I repeated awkwardly.
Where did she get the idea to stop sticking to the
unspoken agreement that we were avoiding each other?
"I thought it might do you some good to have some
company for a change," she continued but immediately
whirled around to check on the oven's contents.
Who had given her the stupid idea that I needed
company? Only one person came to mind. I would thank
Fiero for it later.
"I'm actually doing great."
"You sit in your office or your bedroom all day. The only
other thing you do is eat and visit your siblings
occasionally. I don't think that's the definition of doing
well."
And that out of her mouth, of all places, when she had
supposedly done nothing but stay in her little cottage for
the last few years.
"As I said, I'm managing and doing well."
With the plates in her hand, she turned to me, looking at
me punitively. Who gave her the right to interfere in my
affairs anyway?
"What do you have against spending half an hour with
me? Talking like civilized people about anything that has
nothing to do with my father or your family." As she said
this, she slammed my food down on the table in front of me.
I didn't like to admit it, but everything looked good. The
focaccia and the one-pot dish of vegetables and meat with a
salad.
For whatever reason, I didn't expect her to even know
how to cook pasta al dente.
Under her critical gaze, I picked up my fork and sank it
into a piece of meat. "Are you planning to watch me the
whole time?"
"I wanted to calm my nerves a little before I ate," she
replied, pissed.
I didn't answer but concentrated on eating for a while.
Until I finally cleared my throat, stood up, and got drinks.
When I sat again, I looked directly at her. "What do you
want to talk about?" I asked, as a small peace offering.
If Emilio really insisted on throwing the party, I better
find out things about my wife that would make it easier to
step into the shoes of her husband.
Maybe I should have told her about it. However, I liked it
much better not to inform her until Emilio disclosed that
the party was taking place.
"I don't know. I was hoping you would go first,
Vincenzo." She put particular emphasis on my name.
Instinctively, I knew she was expecting something from
me. Cooperation? I had assumed that our agreement was
unmistakably clear.
"You know about the big cats, and the house. That's all
there is to tell."
"There's nothing you can tell me about yourself?" She
stared at me as if I had just punched her.
Good. There was a lot to tell, but that didn't mean her
ears were the right ones for it. What did she want to hear?
How, one day, my life had done a one hundred and eighty?
"I want you to tell me anything about yourself, not about
having a dead wife," she added a little more gently as if she
had guessed precisely where my thoughts were drifting.
From her words it sounded like I was defining myself
over Rina. I pressed my lips together and dug deep into my
thoughts to find something relatively harmless to tell her so
she would be satisfied.
"My siblings and I knew from the beginning who we
were and what to expect in adulthood," I finally said.
"That's not unusual, is it?"
"I don't know how other families handle it. Looking
back, I find it disturbing at what age the sight of blood and
death was normal for me."
"What about Carlotta? Only the immediate family knows
she exists, don't they?"
"Right." However, did she come up with that?
"Why? So why would you choose to keep the existence of
a child a secret."
"Because there was another child before Carlotta," I
replied.
 Amedea gave me a strange look.
"The others were too young to remember. Therefore it
was better to remain a secret," I explained.
"What happened to this child?"
I twisted my mouth. My memory of it was still very vivid,
though that didn't necessarily make it a beautiful one. "It
was an infant girl. My parents had hired a nanny, but the
woman soon turned out to be untrustworthy. Namely, the
moment she kidnapped the child and gave her to my
father's archenemy."
"She kidnapped an infant?"
Like that was such a surprise. Our world was not
rainbows and pink unicorns.
"And afterward took off with the money she was offered
for her. My father's enemy tried to blackmail him with his
daughter."
"Did he succeed?"
"Of course, he didn't. My father made a lesson out of it
for me, told the guy he wasn't going to give him any
concessions, and he could kill the kid, and he wasn't going
to budge from his position."
Suddenly, the color drained from Amedea's face. She put
the fork aside.
"Did he?"
"Kill the baby? Yes. And my father told me that there
was no reason in this world to kneel before the enemy. A
year later, Carlotta was born, and he did everything to keep
her existence a secret. There are no records with doctors
or hospitals. Not even a birth certificate. Everyone who
knows about her is part of the immediate family, and when
she does have contact with the outside world, she uses a
different name. Obviously, she's connected, but no one out
there knows she's our sister."
"Would you act the same way?"
I was puzzled by her question. Was that all she had to
say about it?
 "You mean, would I sacrifice my child to demonstrate my
superiority over the enemy?"
She nodded.
"Of course not. I'm doing everything I can to make sure
my family is okay. Screw whatever message it sends to our
enemies. No one will be sacrificed." Stupidly, this also gave
me the answer to a question I had never asked. There was
no way around figuratively giving Taddeo Santoro the
middle finger and proving to him that his daughter was my
wife.
I had decided to give her this escape, this possibility of
freedom. I could not destroy it by ignoring his threats and
pretending that none of this concerned me.
"I'm not in a position to pass judgment on your parents
at all, but I'm glad I didn't meet them a few days ago."
"Me too. That would not have ended well."
"For them? Or us?"
"Probably for no one. Just because the next generation is
in power doesn't mean my father doesn't still have enough
power to influence certain things."
She picked up her fork again and grinned at me. "Maybe
you should think about a suitable retirement home.
Somewhere far, far away from Naples. Milan is supposed to
be nice, I hear."
"And not even close to far enough away," I replied with
amusement, though the laughter stuck in my throat. "Now
it's your turn, by the way. Enough about my messed up
childhood."
Even though she had said at the beginning that she
didn't want to talk about the subject of family, there was
probably never any way around it. My siblings still played a
significant role in my life, even if I didn't always agree with
them and certainly didn't live in the immediate vicinity.
They were family, and I was the big brother who had to
hold everything together when it threatened to break apart
again. And that happened from time to time. That was
normal. It was also customary to protect them from the
knowledge I had grown up with. Not even Emilio, who had
become my successor, knew our father's dirty little secrets.
"I am an only child. My mother couldn't stand being with
my father for more than two years. Nine months after that,
she was pregnant with me, and shortly after the birth, she
disappeared to live a better life elsewhere. And honestly, I
don't even blame her. She sent cards for my birthday and
Christmas back then."
"It just underscores what an asshole your dad is."
"Right," she replied. "Plus, I went to private school and
had to attend all these stupid events to show off money,
power, or being his pretty daughter."
"Sure, because the life of the high society of the Italian
mafia consists mainly of such events."
"At one point, I left home and asked Emilio for help. I
knew him from one of these events. The risk was too high
for him initially, but eventually, he caved in, and we made a
deal. I would work for him in exchange for my
accommodation and security. That last one didn't work out
well, but that's not his fault."
"And your dad let you learn all that IT stuff voluntarily?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I learned that secretly. At
night. Or during free periods at school. My teacher gave
me the resources and swore not to tell anyone. Yet he
would have had every reason to be more afraid of my father
than of me."
I eyed her. In fact, there was nothing about Amedea that
seemed scary. On the contrary. She gave the impression of
an innocent, carefree woman who had not yet experienced
anything dramatic.
I wondered how she could cover it so cleverly and
whether it wasn't secretly eating her up inside.
"A bit ironic, don't you think?"
"You mean because I had to do what my father wanted
even back then to buy my supposed freedom?"
 "Supposed?" I raised an eyebrow. The plan was set – it
just needed to get rolling.
"Well, who's to say you'll let me go in the end? Let me
move into a house of my own?"
"Why wouldn't I do that?"
"Because there are quite a few families who know about
the wedding. They will ask questions if we live separately."
"How would they even know?"
"They find out everything. And rumors persist."
"Actually, I don't care what a couple of bootlickers think.
That was a promise to you, and I will keep it. Even though
it might take a little longer because first, we have to
convince your father that this is a real consummated
marriage."
"He won't rest until he feels he has won," she said,
shrugging her shoulders. "We fooled everyone in the
chapel. We can do it again."
I didn't think Taddeo would be convinced by a quick kiss
on closed lips, and certainly not by me carrying his
daughter around in my arms. He was too smart for that. If
he had completely bought the charade of an arranged
marriage turned into happily married in the chapel, we
would not be in this situation now.
Maybe I shouldn't have told Amedea that it was all just a
game. Forcing her to the altar and making it clear that I
could do whatever I wanted to her would probably have
made a better impression on Santoro. But I was not at all
comfortable with it.
"It has to be more convincing than what we delivered in
the chapel."
She raised an eyebrow. "How long has it been since you
kissed a woman? Or been on a date? It doesn't seem like
you're particularly close to anyone."
I ignored the first two questions. Since Rina's death,
nothing at all had happened in this direction. I'd rather
watch my dick rot off than stick it in a woman who wasn't
my wife. "Maybe that's because I'm actually not close to
anyone."
"Can't you put down the grouchy hermit for a few hours
and pretend to be… I don't know. The old Vincenzo? The
man who existed before his wife died?"
Did she even know what she was saying? What she was
asking of me? I looked at her in disbelief for a few seconds.
Amedea was young but not naive. She instinctively knew
how to play the game with her father. But that's not why I
would get involved in this game, too.
Returning to my old self was out of the question! I was
no longer that man. I was not the boss. I was not the leader.
I was not so full of love for a woman that I didn't even know
what had happened to me anymore.
I consisted of cold anger. Grief flared up again and again
and destroyed me further. I hated people and their
presence. And the games within the mafia and the
individual families, I had developed such a strong dislike
that I preferred killing the troublemakers rather than
trying to find a diplomatic solution. Of course, I did that
anyway, but I also kidnapped men at night who didn't
deserve to end up in prison for their deeds.
"It would only be a few hours. After that, you can kick
me out the door for all I care, and I'll stay at a motel
somewhere in Tramonti. I don't care. But we have to get
that proof. You said so yourself."
Of course, I had said that. However, I did not expect that
she would expect the same from me.
"I don't think that man is in me anymore."
Amedea contorted her face. "I think you just have to
draw him out. No matter how much you change, some part
of your old personality remains somewhere."
What did she actually expect from me? I would flip a
switch and immediately travel years into the past? "I don't
think that's a good idea," I announced and stood up.
"Why not? Are the rumors true?"
 Irritated, I looked at her. "What are you talking about?"
She swallowed visibly. "Rumor has it you killed your wife
back in the day."
Before my common sense could kick in, I had circled the
table, grabbed her by the upper arms, yanked her off her
chair, and brought her eye level with me.
Her lower lip quivered.
"Don't. Say. That. Ever. Again!" I growled right in her
face.
Her breathing was fast and shallow, and fear was
evident in her eyes. I had heard the rumors and had never
done anything to deny them. I didn't care what people
thought or believed. However, I did not want to hear words
of that nature in my house, in my presence.
She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't
know a single detail of the story. How could she throw such
a statement into the room? Did she really think I was
capable of killing my wife?
"Why are you so angry?" she asked in a trembling voice,
hardly daring to look me in the eye.
My blood rushed through my ears, as did all the
emotions that gripped my body.
"Because she died in my arms, and I couldn't stop it. I
didn't kill her, but I also wasn't there when it would have
mattered most to her."
I saw how the realization slowly sank into Amedea, but I
did not attach any further importance to it. She had spoken
the words, and whatever her goal, she had succeeded
above all in widening the distance between us.
For a few seconds, we stared at each other. I was still
caught up in my anger. Amedea was busy trying to get rid
of her fear.
A steep wrinkle formed on her forehead. She tilted her
head, her gaze falling from my eyes to my mouth.
Immediately I knew what she was up to, yet I did not
manage to drop her in time and push her away. I had come
too close, and she used that shamelessly.
Her lips crashed against mine, my pulse shot up, and the
anger returned. At first, I did nothing, watching as she
tried to get under my skin and cause a reaction that
confirmed her previous statement.
Amused, she stared at me, small laugh lines forming
around her eyes. Her lips were still on mine, caressing me
gently. I felt her tongue before she unexpectedly withdrew.
"Are you afraid, Enzo?" she asked challengingly. Cheekily.
I let go of her upper arms, so she landed on her feet and
had to look up at me.
Fear?
Was she serious? Apparently, it worked, at least, because
in me rose the need to prove her wrong.
Shaking my head, I let out a growl, grabbed the back of
her head – small enough to fit perfectly in my hand – and
yanked her against me to finish what she had started.
I proved to her that I had by no means forgotten how to
kiss a woman in such a way that she felt like the center of
the damn universe. I noticed how she sharply drew in air,
her fingers clasped in my top and barely able to oppose my
kiss, which was more angry than emotional.
I tasted blood. Mine? Hers? It didn't matter. No one had
told her it was wise to go so far out on a limb.
For a brief moment, instead of Amedea, I imagined I was
looking at Rina. She had been taller. Had had more curves.
Smelled differently.
Simultaneously with this realization, the illusion burst,
so I grabbed Amedea by the upper arms again, tore myself
away from her, and pushed her far away from me. As if I
had been burned.
Triumphantly, she looked at me. "You seem to have
plenty of passion left," she said, surprised at how the last
few minutes had gone.
More wrinkles formed on her forehead, her cheeks
reddened, and I could see she had not found the kiss
terrible.
Warningly, I looked at her. "Not another word about this
nonsense about whether I killed my wife. And no more
attempts to prove to myself that I can be someone else for a
while. It's not working. So don't do it."
Of course, she didn't believe a word of it. That was clear
from her posture. Nevertheless, nothing would change in
my opinion. It had been a mistake to react to her challenge
at all.
"This won't happen again," I hissed, leaving her in the
kitchen with her food.
Stupidly, my body told me exactly what it thought of the
kiss and the incidental physical contact. Merda.
OceanofPDF.com
 10

AMEDEA

W ith my arms crossed, I looked toward the

enclosure and wondered if I should ask Vincenzo
to introduce me to the animals. He could touch
them. Surely there had to be fixed feeding times that I
could attend.
I had spent half of last night searching for the rescued
animals and reading up on how this extraordinary adoption
went down. I probably would have read through a book on
rocket science, too, if it had distracted me long enough
from the thoughts floating around the edge of my brain,
waiting to burst into the forefront.
The kiss had been no comparison to what we had shared
at the wedding. I knew the immediate anger at my question
had drawn a little passion from Vincenzo, and my skin still
tingled at the memory. Even if it was wrong, and the
boundaries had been clearly set.
However, he could no longer claim that he was only the
new Vincenzo. The old one still existed, somewhere deep
inside. It was only necessary to tease him out; to do so, he
had to bring up weapons that were not typically used.
It also reassured me that he did not have his wife on his
conscience. So I could feel safe and put aside the fear that
he wanted to gain my trust to be able to strike more easily
later.
 I turned and went into the house so I ask Vincenzo about
the cats. Of course, I hadn't seen him since yesterday, and I
was positive he was using the surveillance cameras to
ensure I wasn't around. Only then did he come out of his
rooms and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
There was no reason to hide from me like that. We were
married. There had been a kiss. Under other
circumstances, it would have been the most normal thing in
the world, but Vincenzo acted as if I had mortally offended
him.
I didn't plan to keep him company any longer than
necessary, and I wasn't going to nail him on that stupid
marriage vow. He had done it to save me from my father.
Nothing else mattered.
Accordingly charged, I trudged toward the door of his
office. What was wrong with putting a little fire under his
butt? Maybe he would wake up from the lethargy that
surrounded him so vehemently. Perhaps he would realize
that life went on, even if someone had died.
After all, there was no point in putting one's life on hold
when one was still alive and had no reason to have one foot
in the grave.
I raised my hand, tapped against the old wood, and
listened intently for a reaction. Meanwhile, I could imagine
him holding his breath and not moving an inch, hoping I
would leave him alone.
If I just ignored the kiss and pretended it never
happened, would he act halfway normal to me again?
"Vincenzo," I called out. "Please show me how you
handle the animals. I want to feed them sometimes too!"
It sounded like I was five years old. My initial fear of the
big cats had faded, and I had read how friendly these
rescued animals could be. How grateful.
"I used your credit card last night to make some
donations," I followed up, hoping it would draw him out.
 But he didn't care if I spent his money. After all, he had
more than enough.
I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms. "I won't
leave until you answer me."
And if I had to sit here for the next five hours, he
wouldn't…
The door opened, and Vincenzo looked at me with
annoyance. Disparagingly. As if he was considering whether
it was the lesser evil to talk to me.
"I'm not poisonous, in case you hadn't realized," I
grumbled, looking up at him which immediately reminded
me of how close we had been yesterday.
"No, but annoying, raggio di sole."
I screwed up my face. Clearly, this had to come from
him, who had been making a face all week, like there was a
dark cloud hanging over him.
"You didn't have to sacrifice yourself for me," I replied,
lifting my chin.
He had made the decision. Not me.
"You said yes."
"You did too, if I may remind you," I replied, crossing my
arms again. "Besides, it's not like I had any other choice."
"Well, we're both caught up in the current situation."
"You could say that."
"That still doesn't mean I want to spend all day with
you."
"Since I've been here, we've never seen each other for
more than thirty minutes at a time. In some cases, not at all
for half a day."
"I don't see a problem there."
"I do. Maybe you should have picked a desert island in
the middle of the sea instead of Tramonti."
"Actually, I am a fan of civilization, after all."
With a sigh, I shook my head. This discussion could
continue endlessly, but it would only lead to further
frustration.
 "Can I feed Gattina?"
"She's already eaten."
"And how come I never get to see that?"
"We're not in a freaking zoo here with feeding times,
tricks, and half-hour excursions on wildlife."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Sometimes this man could be
mean. Mean and as affable as an eighty-year-old
curmudgeon who had eaten cynicism with a spoon.
"You could be kind to me for once, you know?" I replied.
"But okay, if you want to keep sitting around in your office."
I quickly looked over his shoulder into the darkened
room, which was dominated by a desk. In one corner there
was a TV and on the paused screen was Call of Duty.
Amused, I raised an eyebrow.
So that's what Vincenzo was doing all this time? Was he
shooting people in an online multiplayer game?
"You could have at least invited me to a game," I said
before turning away and leaving him alone again. This man
was simply unmanageable!

"Don't say anything. He called you because he's too lazy

to deal with me," I mumbled as I opened the door for Fiero.
He seemed in a good mood even though he had been
demoted to my babysitter again. My companion.
"Actually, no. Emilio has confirmed the plans regarding
the party and would like you to meet Carlotta in Naples so
you can shop for a suitable outfit."
"Does he know about it?"
"About the party? Yes. Of me being here to pick you up?
No."
 I glanced over my shoulder at the closed door and
shrugged. He wasn't interested in me anyway, so I might as
well accompany Fiero.
Besides, he hadn't told me about the planned party, so I
guess it was time to squeeze Fiero a little.
After I picked up my phone and bag, Fiero walked me to
his car and even opened the passenger door before closing
it behind me and getting in himself.
"What kind of party is this?"
"The party where you have to convince your father that
Vince really did take you as his wife." He shook his head,
and I was sure I saw disgust on his face.
So it had been a good idea lure him out of his reserve
yesterday. After all, it would go to me next time without
hesitation. Grab Vincenzo by the shirt, pull him to me and
kiss him. It wasn't that difficult. At least not if he didn't act
like one of those old marble statues.
"That would be why he hasn't mentioned it before."
"Emilio insists on it. However, it will not occur at his
villa but at my parents' house."
"Are his parents coming too?"
"If they find out about it that could happen, yes."
"Wonderful. Can't wait to meet these great people."
Fiero snorted but immediately stifled his reaction when
he remembered whom he was laughing at.
"It's all half-assed. You just put on a convincing show,
and you're practically free at the end of the evening. I'm
sure Carlotta will dress you up to make an extra
impression."
"As long as she doesn't put me in a dress that's as
imposing as the wedding dress…"
"She's shown extravagant taste in that regard," he
announced before silence fell, and I focused on the trees
that passed us beside the road.
 Fiero didn't just drop me off in Naples, no. He slipped
into the role of bodyguard and accompanied me
everywhere. He wasn't particularly subtle about it, nor was
Natale, who followed Carlotta around like a shadow. Both
men were not particularly talkative, which meant it was up
to us women not to let an awkward silence arise.
Facing Carlotta after Vincenzo had given me an insight
into the circumstances of her birth and childhood felt
strange. But I couldn't let that show if I didn't want to
betray Vincenzo's trust – there had been so little of it.
Otherwise, he would hardly have told me this well-guarded
family secret.
"How is my brother doing? Is he a complete idiot?
Incompetent? Is he giving you a hard time?"
I shook my head. You couldn't put it that way. However,
it was also hard to say that he was an affable fellow who
cared about his fellow man. "He is… special."
"That's the friendly option, right?"
Grinning, I nodded. "I think he's trying. However,
sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head."
For example, when his mood suddenly changed he
became downright mean. I could stand it – but I wondered
if he also treated his siblings the same way.
"I wonder about that, too. When he arrived and said he
was getting married, I was blindsided at first."
I couldn't help grinning.
"Emilio later told me how this came about and what it all
meant. However, I still find it surprising that he just agreed
to it."
"Sometimes he acts like he'd been forced to do it."
"In a way, that's true. He wouldn't have been able to say
no. He was aware of what was at stake, and in cases like
this, my brother likes to prove he has a damn soft heart
after all."
"He has a heart?"
Small laugh lines formed around Carlotta's eyes. "At
least, that's what the rumor is."
She looked at me with a wink and then pointed across
the square to a store that looked anything but modern. It
certainly couldn't compete with the big chains, but I had
confidence in Carlotta and her expertise. After all, she had
already proven it at the wedding.
"What kind of clothes do you prefer?" she asked as we
strolled across the square leisurely, the two men close
behind us. I got the feeling they had their eyes and ears
everywhere and knew precisely what was happening in our
surroundings.
This was not at all conspicuous, as evidenced by the
glances that kept gliding in our direction.
"Light summer dresses, actually. Anything beyond that is
repugnant to me. My father used to treat me like a doll in a
fashion store. Like I was standing in a shop window to be
admired."
"Yes," she said but shook her head. "That's not even on
the cards."
"And what's up for discussion?"
"Something that will make your father forget why he's
always getting on Emilio's nerves. And it should soften
Vincenzo a little. Maybe it will come in handy if he doesn't
look at you as disinterestedly as at a Pollock painting."
"I guess his thing is the Renaissance, right? Da Vinci,
Raphael, Titian, Botticelli? Brunelleschi seems more like his
style."
Carlotta gave me a sideways glance. "You have a point.
Although none of us is really interested in art. Or religion,
for that matter."
"I wasn't even baptized," Natale grumbled behind us. I
couldn't help making an amused noise.
 Probably the priest had refused because of his name.
Natale Cruciani. Who didn't get the wrong idea?
"Of course, we don't communicate this to the outside
world. That would be counterproductive because quite a
few families are still strict believers. It's somehow still very
present down here."
I didn't even want to imagine what it was like to grow up
under such conditions. In my opinion, indoctrination with
religious views offered more dangers than advantages. And
if there was a God, it was certainly not a merciful one, but a
damn cruel one.
I was glad that we reached the store not five seconds
later. Fiero opened the door for us but first let Natale, who
briefly scanned the premises with his gaze before telling us
to enter. The gun on his hip had not escaped my attention,
and I could guess Fiero was also carrying one.
Maybe even Carlotta because she had been instrumental
in Gia's rescue.
Inside, we were greeted by a fresh, flowery summer
scent and an older saleswoman who looked like she was not
only selling the clothes but putting her heart and soul into
each one.
So this would be an expensive proposition.
"Do you want to look around yourself, or do you want me
to make some suggestions?" Carlotta asked. Mistakenly, I
had assumed she would also be buying a dress. But it was
apparently only about me and my outfit.
So all the attention would be on me. I could hardly wait.
The only relief was that the saleswoman kept a proper
distance and did not ask if she could be of any help.
Either she was already used to the presence of the de
Archards, or she had been informed accordingly
beforehand.
"I think you're having more fun with this whole thing
than I am," I replied evasively, glad for salvation as Carlotta
moved and started digging through the clothes hanging
neatly on racks.
The selection was colorful, but I hardly believed she
would put me in a canary yellow dress, which consisted
primarily of tulle. It would ensure I was the center of
attention but probably also ridiculed.
I turned once in a circle to see if anything caught my
eye. Of course, I failed miserably.
Fiero, meanwhile, had taken up a position at the door,
while Natale wandered through the countless rows of
clothes. Did he know what Carlotta was looking for, or did
he suddenly develop an interest in clothes?
Carlotta kept me waiting for almost thirty minutes
before she returned with a pile of clothes in her arms. The
color selection was quite clear: inconspicuous, muted, dark.
So I wouldn't draw any attention to myself with it.
"I'll help you get dressed, and then we'll let the two
gentlemen here decide if it's the right dress or not."
"Sounds good," I muttered, glad not to have to make
that decision myself.
First, I got into a black dress made of a velvety fabric
that reached the floor but had a daring slit at the side of
the thigh. This was followed by a black dress cut out at the
back to just above my hips and then one slit in the front to
the navel, which offered much room for speculation.
None of them were mesmerizing. I filled them all out,
and they suited me, but for the purpose of the party, they
just weren't right.
Carlotta got more and more frustrated. She wouldn't
even let me put on the last dress she had picked out. "Okay,
wait here. We'll try something else."
With that, she disappeared and left me half-naked in the
changing room, I felt uncomfortable and desired to give up.
Apparently, there was simply no dress that met her
requirements.
 When she returned, comparatively quickly, I held out no
hope that she had found what she was looking for.
Nevertheless, she handed something to me. Unlike the
other dresses, it was only a scrap of fabric. I held it up and
raised an eyebrow. We had gone from black to dark, vibrant
green. Satin, a waterfall neckline, thin straps, and short as
hell. The fabric clung to me like a second skin.
"Here, put these on," Carlotta said, handing me a pair of
shoes. The heel was dizzying, and they had only one lace,
like gladiator sandals. They were not made of dark leather
but of something that glittered and shimmered gold.
Elegant. That was the best way to describe the shoes.
Somehow I managed to slip into the shoes and walk on
them. One wrong step, and I'd possibly break both ankles,
but the overall picture made up for it.
All that was left was Carlotta's approval.
With momentum, I tore back the curtain. Four pairs of
eyes rested on me, but I only felt liberated when Carlotta
clapped her hands enthusiastically.
"This is it. We found it. What do you think, guys?"
Instinctively, I knew that their opinion no longer counted
because she had already made up her mind.

Vincenzo was waiting for me with his arms folded and a

scowl. I had hardly opened the front door when I caught
sight of him and suspected he was about to read me the
riot act. Although he actually had no reason, right?
Sugar-sweetly, I smiled at him and waved the bag so he
could see it. "I went shopping for the party. The one you
didn't tell me about."
 Vincenzo stared at me in disbelief. "I was wondering
what possessed you to disappear like that without letting
me know. I thought…"
I raised an eyebrow. What had he thought? Was it the
infamous heart of Vincenzo de Archard that his sister had
mentioned earlier?
"What did you think?"
"That something had happened to you or your father had
showed up! I wonder why I gave you the phone if you don't
even look at it!"
I pulled it out of my pocket, unlocked the display, and
got not one but seventeen missed calls. Had someone been
worried?
Amused, I looked at him. "Fiero picked me up. It's not
like I was in danger of being murdered on the open road."
"It doesn't matter."
"It's not my fault that your brother neglected to inform
you of his plans. Emilio made that decision."
"I've already shot the crap out of him for that, too."
Again I raised an eyebrow. What bothered him so much
that he reacted like that? At no point had I felt unprotected.
Natale and Fiero together made a formidable image, and if
that wasn't enough, there were always firearms and years
of experience.
Besides, it wasn't as if Vincenzo had wanted to
accompany me to Naples to pick out a dress.
I felt a little anger rising in me, too. "You still have no
right to act like that."
Vincenzo gave me a warning glare. These were probably
words he rarely heard as a former mafia boss. Only that
didn't give him the privilege of pushing me around and
acting as if I had almost been murdered.
"Maybe you should have called Emilio first."
"I called you! And that should be enough. Not to
mention that my office isn't five feet from the fucking front
door, and you could have just given a quick shout. Or Fiero,
for that matter."
"Sure, it's my fault you don't care about my presence
otherwise! How about you take the stick out of your ass
and realize that you can't make demands if you're not
willing to make concessions yourself." Shaking my head, I
stormed past him toward the stairs but didn't get far.
"This conversation is not over," he growled.
I hated that he didn't even have to get in my way for me
to stop.
With a contorted face, I whirled around to face him,
dropped the bag, and crossed my arms. "Oh no? What else
do you want to talk about?"
"That you don't go out of the house without letting me
know first."
"I'm a free woman, and I can do whatever I want," I shot
back. "You don't think I'm stupid enough to expose myself
to danger, do you?"
I wasn't used to traveling with a bodyguard, but even I
knew that being married to a man like Vincenzo came with
a few peculiarities.
The name alone created a particular – not always
friendly – interest in the family members.
"You are my wife, and when I tell you-"
I snorted, interrupting him instantly. He wasn't going to
play that card. Was he?
He couldn't be serious.
"Well, I've got great news for you, Vincenzo. You can't
choose when to use that argument and when not to care."
How did he envision this in the future? Was he going to
send me a squad of bodyguards to look after my welfare?
He looked at me in disbelief. Was he at a loss for words?
Or was he thinking of a devastating answer that would take
the wind out of my sails?
I kept silent and waited, but he said nothing. To my
shame, I could not even interpret the expression on his face
correctly or attach it to any emotion.
Finally, I picked up my bag and walked away. The
conversation was obviously over.
Halfway up the stairs, I paused and looked back. "You
could have just asked nicely, and it wouldn't have been a
problem next time."
"And you could have remembered what I told you," he
returned, I turned around only for him to disappear back
into his office.
I stared after him until the door fell shut. Promptly the
feeling of guilt set in. I remembered very well what he had
told me, but also what resonated between the lines and had
not been entirely obvious.
My sudden disappearance had been one of the scenarios
he was afraid of – he had probably played out the worst-
case scenarios in his head, reliving old memories, until
Emilio had finally told him that I was with Carlotta, Fiero,
and Natale.
Merda.
I bit my tongue and rolled my eyes. Why did he have to
start the conversation with accusations? Of course, he
would be upset if I was correct with my assumption, but
that didn't mean he could treat me like his property.
Protection or not, Vincenzo had to understand that
sometimes things happened that you could not influence,
no matter how hard you tried. Some things just happened.
Without reason. Without being able to prevent it.
That was the way life went. And that would certainly not
change based on his experiences.
Nevertheless, I had a guilty conscience and immediately
went upstairs, quite demotivated. My mood was good until
Vincenzo had waited behind the door and tried to blame me
for everything.
There was nothing to deny that I had actively decided –
namely, not to tell him I was going out and to trust that he
would not notice or just hear about it from someone else.
 Once in my bedroom, I threw the bag on the bed and
dug out my cell phone. Emilio's number was fortunately
already saved, so with only two clicks I could call him.
He didn't keep me waiting long. "You're still alive,
bellissima? After Vince hung up, I wasn't so sure he might
not rip your head off."
I gave a grumble. At least that would have been more
pleasant than the realization that had hit me after the brief
argument.
"Just about," I quipped. "You should have told him about
it, Lio."
"I had assumed you were all grown up enough to explain
something like that to each other. But I guess that
assumption was wrong."
"It's not my fault he's so paranoid," I replied, the
statement was only partly true.
"By now, you should know he's a special case." Emilio
sounded level-headed.
"I hardly ever get to see him. And he fends off any
advances, no matter how platonic."
"Because we're talking about Vincenzo. You have to
force him to be happy."
"So why haven't you guys been doing that for the last
few years?"
"Because he lives in the sticks and only wants to see us
on his terms."
"He doesn't make it easy for anyone, does he?"
"Not really," Emilio grumbled. "But he gave a shit that
you just disappeared. That means he at least cares about
your well-being."
"It's the same when it comes to you guys."
"We are family."
"Sure thing," I said, rolling my eyes. As if that made
such a big difference.
"Just make sure he goes to that party with you and
convinces your father that he doesn't have to worry
anymore. I know he'd rather see him dead, but that's still
not a realistic option. And not because he's your dad, but
because it would get us in more trouble than we'd get out
of."
"That sounds wonderful," I murmured. It wouldn't make
me sad if my father died, and I credited Emilio for not
letting those blood ties get in the way. In the end, however,
the situation remained the same.
I had to convince my father that Vincenzo and I were
making the marriage work.
"Perhaps it would have been easier if you had ignored
his demands."
"For us, for sure. Not for you, though, and after the last
few years, I definitely owed you," Emilio replied.
In the process, Vincenzo had taken on this debt and
stepped into the breach.
"What happens if he doesn't buy it?"
"I guess then he'll ask for other evidence again."
"Other evidence," I repeated.
"Everything will be fine." Emilio sounded confident, but I
was sure he was just trying to reassure me.
I sighed. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you at this party
then."
"Yes. In three days." He hung up, and I stared at the
wall.
So I had three days to apologize to Vincenzo and
somehow get him to do us the favor of putting on a
tremendous show. A kiss of the kind we had shared in the
kitchen and any doubts would be dispelled.
But he would not get involved. After all, he had made it
clear that would not happen again. Vincenzo's vehemence
was indeed what it claimed to be. He did not deviate from
his principles and certainly not from an opinion once he
had it.
As complicated as this man seemed at first glance, he
was so simple in the end.
 I pulled out my phone again, opened the chat with him,
and wrote him a short scusa. I had little hope of getting any
response. Neither did the checkmarks turn blue in the next
few minutes, nor did a reply come.
He probably ignored me not only because I had
disappointed him but also because I had reacted so
violently to his reproach. I couldn't hold it against him, but
I could form a new judgment about his stubbornness.
Had he ever apologized in his life? Or was this concept
unknown to him because he had grown up in an
environment where people rarely apologized for anything
and assumed that everyone did what they were told?
He might have been in that position at one time, but that
was years ago, and he was a different man now. He
emphasized that himself. So why couldn't he put aside his
demanding manner and bite the bullet and apologize?
I was not the only one who'd reacted wrongly.
Even though I had consistently failed so far, I was
mentally looking for a way to attract his attention. He
couldn't spend the next three days in his office and avoid
me.
That's probably how he imagined it, but I wouldn't let
him get away with that under any circumstances. I might
have to make the same mistake a second time, but I would
find a way to lure him out of his shell.
Maybe he'd get even more upset about my mere
existence, but that was okay.
OceanofPDF.com
 11

VINCENZO

I t cost me nerves. Nerves that I obviously no longer

possessed. For a moment, I even wondered if I had
ever possessed them, but then I remembered that I
hadn't had any problems dealing with strong personalities
in the past. So why was Amedea different?
I didn't like to admit it, but I quickly realized it wasn't
her who was the problem. It was me. But I certainly
wouldn't tell her that.
I would rather avoid her and ignore the message with an
apology than get involved. Because that meant I had to
admit something I didn't want to. And that, in turn,
suggested that everything was developing in a direction I
didn't want.
I had only needed a day for these insights, the
conversation with Emilio was always in the back of my
mind. He hadn't exactly been friendly or reserved in his
choice of words, but I hadn't been either in similar
situations with him. So I couldn't really blame him.
I watched the pool with folded arms, even if it was
deserted. In the background, one could guess the enclosure
were there, but none of the windows in the house looked
directly at them.
Much to my chagrin, watching the three majestic
animals from here would have been interesting. Especially
when they ate the mouth-watering morsels of meat and
thus made any evidence of a violent crime disappear.
Another thing that increasingly worried me. Amedea
was curious and clever. If she continued to stay here, she
would eventually discover the cruel secrets my cellar and
this land harbored. And honestly, I didn't know if I liked
that idea. She was used to many things, but I didn't have to
strain that with my schemes.
If she didn't understand what I was doing, there would
be additional problems, which we didn't need at the
moment. I twisted my mouth.
If I walked out of my office now, I would probably run
into Amedea at lunch and find out exactly what she thought
of my lack of response. Was I in the mood for that? A little.
Nevertheless, I knew it couldn't go on like this forever.
Perhaps it had been an exaggeration to reprimand her
yesterday, but that didn't change the fact that I was
worried – and not without reason or even unjustified.
She was in danger, which was not to be discounted.
Even Amedea could not deny that. So why didn't she let me
know? I didn't want to tie her to this villa. On the contrary,
I could hardly wait to get rid of Amedea. Was her excuse in
this regard as plausible as she made it out to be?
I bit my tongue. I knew the answer to that. That just
didn't mean I liked it, either.
I took some effort to leave my office and go to the
kitchen. Amedea was like clockwork. Every night around
the same time she visited the kitchen. Probably after she
sat in front of her computer for hours on end and noticed
how hungry she’d become.
She raised her head briefly when she heard my footsteps
and then concentrated on her plate again. Nevertheless,
she seemed surprised. Well, no great wonder, I had spent
the last few days adapting my routine to her habits so we
didn't run into each other unnecessarily.
 Even when I dropped down on a chair opposite her and
looked at her, she continued to focus her attention on
everything except me. I couldn't blame her, but
subconsciously it bothered me a bit.
I cleared my throat, but she ignored that, too.
Of course.
She wanted to draw me out. To get me to make the first
move after she had tried to apologize but had not
succeeded.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the chair, hands
clasped behind my head. Amedea was really good at
stubbornly holding on to her position.
"You could at least look in my direction," I said.
"Why?" she promptly shot back, her eyes fixed on her
plate.
"Because I have something to talk to you about."
She cautiously lifted her gaze in my direction. However,
I recognized nothing of the cheerfulness in it that she
usually carried around, as if it were a firmly anchored part
of her personality. That was probably also my fault.
"And what would that be?"
"I'm sorry about the fight yesterday. We both
overreacted, I would say."
She gave a humming sound, already focused on
something else. Again, I noticed how much that bothered
me. In the beginning, she had tried to get through to me.
Now she simply didn't seem to care.
I squinted my eyes and tried to make sense of this
change.
"Don't worry about it. I'll stay here until we find a
suitable house, and then you can put twenty bodyguards in
front of my door. I don't care. The main thing is that I have
my peace and don't have to listen to accusations," she
replied in a muffled voice.
So that was it? She gave up her position so easily? I had
expected resistance. Some form of rebellion. Something
that made it difficult to argument her protection was
necessary. that made it difficult for me to sell her my
protective measures as necessary.
Irritated, I raised an eyebrow, unsure what to say to
that. The easiest thing would have been to declare the
conversation over and leave her alone again, but I simply
wasn't that comfortable.
"If you want, I'll show you the vineyards tonight. They
belong to me but are cared for by an employee. At the top,
there's a small hut with a viewing platform over the
surrounding area." Was that enough to make her more
mellow? At least now, she could no longer reproach me for
not being interested in her.
"Are you saying that because you want to, or was it a
suggestion from Fiero? Or Emilio? Your sister?"
Did she really not trust me to come up with it on my
own, or did she just want to provoke me?
"Don't worry. It's completely my idea."
She contorted her face as if she were torn. She was
probably considering whether to refuse, as I had already
done with her or to accept the olive branch.
"What kind of mood will you be in?"
I should have expected this question, but it still
surprised me.
Amused, I looked at her. "I'll do my best to leave the
grouch at home."
"Somehow, I find that hard to imagine."
"Why? Because I don't display my entire emotional world
on my face?"
"There is a universe of feeling?"
"I don't like it, but they exist nevertheless."
"Interesting. So far, I've only seen you grouchy. Or
scowling. Like you're always in a bad mood. Even when you
laugh once in a while, it doesn't sound like you're really
having fun."
 Amedea was so wonderfully talented at ringing you out
verbally.
"I haven't had that much to laugh about in the last few
years. Possibly I've just forgotten how to do it."
She snorted and averted her eyes. "I was going to be
persistent and make you suffer a little. But that damn
awkward charm… I guess you'd even convince the Queen of
England to do business with you."
"I could try if you get me her number," I replied, an
amused undertone in my voice.
She ignored it. "So tonight, the vineyards, right?"
"If you want to."
"I'm interested, at least. It adds a new aspect to your
image that I'm not sure how I feel about yet."
"What kind of aspect?"
"You seem to like alcohol."
"The expensive homegrown kind, yeah. It's not like I
have a drinking problem."
"Do you have experience with it? With the cultivation
and processing?"
I wondered where these questions came from. "The first
year I went through the whole procedure, so I knew what
kind of work it was and what was going on. After that,
though, I didn't."
"Well then, I'm curious to see what you're going to show
me tonight." With these words, Amedea rose, put her empty
plate in the sink, and then left the room, leaving me alone.
It was evident she was teaching me a lesson. Namely,
how it felt to be simply left standing after a conversation,
as I had almost always done with her recently.
This woman had some nerve! Usually, nobody dared to
show me my misbehavior so clearly, apart from my brothers
and sisters. Amedea did not seem interested in what
consequences this entailed.
 "Why didn't you mention that we'd have to walk up the
mountain?"
I turned to Amedea without pausing, a broad grin on my
lips. "I thought you were aware."
She stared darkly at me, blew a strand of her hair out of
her face, and put her hands on her hips. Her condition
couldn't possibly be so bad that she couldn't even make it
up the mountain.
"Come on, it's not that steep," I followed up, already a
few feet ahead of her.
Shaking her head, she started moving again. "That was
on purpose! So I arrive at the top and have no strength to
argue with you!"
She wasn't entirely wrong, but of course, I wouldn't
admit that. A little calculation never hurt.
But in the end, it wasn't about the discussion. It was
about us meeting on a level playing field and talking about
everything in peace. She was out of breath, so I pulled
myself together… it wasn't a bad plan.
There was also the wine and food, which may be able to
smooth some of the troubled waters.
"How much further is it, anyway?" she called after me.
"A few hundred yards." I pointed up to the left. The last
stretch was the most strenuous and would take us up
another steep climb to the top and, with it, the hut and the
viewing platform, which overlooked the vineyards, the
valley and the surrounding mountains.
On good days, you could see very far. The sunset up here
was simply breath taking. So was the climb upwards
through the vineyards. Around this time of the year the
grapes were nearly ripe.
 Amedea's panting behind me sounded more angry than
strained, which amused me a little more.
I hadn't intended to torture her, but it added another
flavor to the evening that I kind of enjoyed.
At least when she was busy struggling up the mountain,
she couldn't make any sassy comments or otherwise make
my life miserable.
I was the first to arrive and had to wait another fifteen
minutes until Amedea stood on the terrace. Her expression
was even more sinister than before, and I could tell she was
a little upset.
A little.
She was probably cursing me for making this stupid
suggestion in the first place and that no other way up
existed.
At first, it had taken some getting used to for me, too,
but the more time I had spent up here, the easier it had
become.
While I gave her time to calm down, I looked inside the
hut. Nothing had changed since the last time. The
furnishings were sparse. My sleeping bag was there, a
small bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a mezzanine under the
roof.
There was also a special wine cellar equipped with
bottles from previous years and a whole range of glasses.
Accordingly, the priorities were all taken care of.
Equipped with a bottle and two glasses, I went back
outside, set them both down on the old wooden table, and
then contented myself by letting my gaze wander over the
surroundings.
Adriano, in charge of the vineyards, lived at the foot of
them in a small house I had bought with the piece of land.
There was also all the equipment needed to make wine
from the grapes. I paid him well for his work, and in return,
he was loyal, asked no questions, and stayed away from my
hut, especially now that I was visiting it with Amedea.
 At some point, I felt her step up next to me. She rested
her arms on the railing and stared into the valley. On one of
the closer mountains, the top of a chapel could be seen;
further back, individual villages nestled into the green
slopes.
"I must admit that I understand more and more why you
are not in Naples."
I didn't reply. Naples was a beautiful city, but the real
reason for my disappearance from there had always been
my wife.
"However, I prefer the view of the sea."
"There are also cultivation areas on the coast," I replied.
"If I ever think about pursuing a different career…"
Honestly, I couldn't imagine Amedea doing any physical
work. But she was well suited being in front of a computer.
She knew her way around. She felt comfortable there. Out
here… that was only something for you if you wanted to
punish yourself.
"Do you miss being active in the mafia?" she asked.
Honestly, I had never thought about it; after all, I was
still involved through Emilio and my siblings, although not
as extensively as before.
I liked that I couldn't care if someone didn't keep to
agreements or didn't pay. I no longer had to deal with
would-be know-it-alls; at the end of the day, I didn't have to
worry about someone standing over my bed at night ready
to cut my throat.
Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. I wouldn’t know
whether I was really avoiding this quite real danger or
whether luck was simply on my side because no one had
found out where I lived.
I replaced the action with finding the criminals and the
hunts I organized in the forest. I fulfilled my need to do
something good with the three rescued predators.
In principle, I could claim to be very satisfied at the
moment. If you looked at it from the outside and limited
yourself to the facts.
"I miss the past most of all," I replied. I missed the past.
What it had been like back then. Which people had been
part of my life.
The circumstances had changed and they had driven me
out here and made me change my entire life.
"Understandable," she murmured. "I'm sorry I hit that
sore spot so unerringly when I didn't let you know Fiero
and I were going to town. I was just… pissed off. Because
you're not easy to live with. Even if we don't see each other
often, you do an excellent job of keeping me at a distance."
I looked at Amedea from the side. Interested. Those had
been the words behind her simple apology. Nevertheless,
they would not have changed my reaction and the
ignorance I had displayed.
"Then I guess I have to apologize as well. I could have
worded the whole thing a little differently. Less
imperiously." She had no idea what kind of mental chaos
she had thrown me into with her sudden disappearance.
All the memories of Rina had come to the surface and
made it difficult for me to breathe. The thought that
Amedea had been kidnapped from my safe house and
would shortly be found dead somewhere had almost caused
me to lose my mind.
Fate was cruel enough to make me endure such an
ordeal a second time. Rina and Amedea were not
comparable, but even if Amedea did not play such an
essential role in my life, I still had a responsibility toward
her. And I had missed it at that moment because I had not
known where she was.
The idea of the news of her death… I would never have
forgiven myself.
"You're just very stuck. And rusty."
"Thank you. Just what you want to hear."
"Fine, I accept your apology. But only because you
showed me the view up here."
 "Just because of that? How cheeky. Maybe I should
consider accepting yours. You've already been very
cheeky."
"Naughty? You need someone to give you a piece of their
mind when you go all sinister Vincenzo again." She gave
me a light jab between the ribs with her elbow.
"Is that so?" I replied, amused.
"At least that's what they say."
"Good, then I accept your apology as well. Next time
we'll both know better." I turned away for a brief moment
to attend to the wine.
Two minutes later, I poured the wine I had opened
earlier into the glasses and handed her one of them.
"I usually prefer Starbucks," she said before taking a
sip.
"You can't compare coffee to wine."
"Yes, I can."
"I'm curious."
"Coffee tastes better than wine." Nevertheless, she did
not seem dissatisfied with the dark red beverage, and I,
too, once again recognized the advantages of a winepress,
and winery.
"This could also come from someone buying overpriced
drinks at a big chain."
She gave me an amused look but left it at that. I knew
that she had cultivated a unique relationship with my
brother and that he had spoiled her just as he did with
Carlotta.
He could hardly be blamed for either, for our sister and
Amedea deserved to be treated this way.
Privileges were earned, and Amedea had more than
earned them with her service to the family. Carlotta had
made sacrifices and put herself in situations that could
have cost her life more than once. The secrecy of her
existence brought advantages and a whole range of
disadvantages.
 Despite these points of view, it was comparatively tricky
for me, especially with Amedea, to show her this
appreciation. Otherwise, I had no problem showing respect
to someone if they deserved it.
To silence my brain, I took a big gulp from the glass and
hoped the effects of the alcohol would soon set in.

Giggling, Amedea bent in my direction to steal the last

cracker from the plastic wrapper I had found in the
kitchen. Her cheeks were red – from the alcohol – and in
the meantime, more strands had come loose from her
ponytail.
Somehow we had thought it was a good idea to prefer
the floor instead of the table and were now sitting on the
bare wood, engrossed in conversation, only to fall silent.
The wine had definitely loosened her tongue – while I
was fighting to keep the last bit of restraint.
But the sun was already sinking on the horizon, and the
last rays bathed the world around us in glistening orange
light that faded into soft pink at the edges and, together
with the blue and the rising haze, made for a portrait-
worthy image. This place was nothing unusual, yet it was
beautiful to behold every time.
"I've been to many countries, but nowhere are sunsets
as beautiful as in this area," I murmured.
So the alcohol did have some effect on me. I usually
didn't talk about the beauty of sunsets.
"Don't tell me you come up here every time, get drunk,
and stare at the setting sun," Amedea retorted, snorting
away.
I didn't know what was so funny.
 "What's wrong with watching natural spectacles like
this?"
"It happens every day."
"That doesn't make it any less special. There have been
many situations where I've been more than happy for the
sun to rise suddenly. It meant I survived another night.”
"Oops," she groaned. "What kind of situations were
those?"
I squinted my eyes and massaged the bridge of my nose.
What was I going to tell her? One of the countless stories
that almost killed me? Or the nights after Rina's death,
when I had temporarily thought it would never be day
again?
Well, I really was an excellent and fundamentally
cheerful companion. Not.
I shrugged my shoulders. "When you're staring death in
the eye, you're suddenly fiercely happy to see the sun
again. You're glad it drives away all the shadows and dark
corners."
Amedea put her hand on my arm and patted the spot
gently. "Have you tried antidepressants? Then the alcohol
falls away, but…"
So she could be even cheekier than she already was.
Surprised, I looked at her but could not longer stifle my
laughter. This woman had ideas! Maybe Emilio should have
consulted her years ago when it came to constantly pushing
me face-first into my problems. After all, she was more than
cavalier in that regard. Unscrupulous, if you wanted it that
way.
"Are you making fun of me?" I asked, my gaze fixed on
her hand, which continued to rest on my arm. A strange
feeling emanated, reminding me of the wedding day.
"No. I'm just trying to help you." Seriously, she looked
me in the eye. She could barely fix her gaze, which was a
clear sign that the wine was going to her head.
"Your help is strange."
 "No, Vincenzo, you are strange."
"Me? Of the two of us, I'm the normal one, if you ask
me."
"Where did you get that stupid idea?"
"I just am."
"Uh-huh," she mumbled, shaking her head so her hair
flew in all directions, leaving the soft scent of her shampoo
in the air. I hadn't realized she smelled so good.
"You sit in your office all day playing Call of Duty. You
only come out when you know I'm not around. You keep
rescued felines. You married a perfect stranger who you'd
never met in person before."
When I thought about it, it was the most adventurous
thing I had done in the last few years. The escapades with
my brothers didn't even come close. Not even the explosion
of the motel where Gia had been held captive.
"I think it's perfectly normal," I replied fervently, wholly
convinced of my statement.
"You think it's normal that you married me?"
"I think it's normal to help someone who needs my help."
"Exactly. You're just out of your mind if you ask me."
I had to laugh at that. I had not asked her about it, yet
she freely shared her opinion with me.
"Sometimes I wonder what's going on in your head." I
looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugged and tried to remain serious but failed
miserably. Somehow I felt that nothing profound would
come out of this conversation, as she often laughed in her
answers.
"I think mostly about how someone can get so grouchy.
You're not yet seventy. That's when you can start hating the
world and all its inhabitants."
"My nihilism has nothing to do with my age."
"Of course not," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Dead
woman, tragic story. I know."
 In any other situation, that would have drawn out a
knee-jerk reaction. The wine I had consumed had to be to
blame for not reacting, and I laughed instead.
"You sure know a lot, listening to you talk like that."
Only she didn't know that there were two prisoners in the
house's cellar, waiting for me to free them from their
shackles and the feeding tubes so I could chase them
through the forest and kill them.
I bit my tongue to keep from saying these thoughts out
loud. That would certainly cool down the rather buzzed
mood immediately and not necessarily ensure that we
managed to settle the discrepancies between us.
"After all, I am capable of using Google. There's nothing
I can't learn or know."
"The Internet doesn't tell you what Emilio is doing right
now," I retorted, damned sure to draw her out with that
one.
She shrugged. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's exploring
places where the sun usually never shines."
Images flashed before my eyes that I wanted to get rid
of immediately. Flavia and my brother having sex? Merda.
No.
"Why did you have to say that out loud?" I reached for
the wine bottle and downed the last of it without using my
glass.
"Because you challenged me." With a muffled sound, she
lowered her head against my shoulder, her gaze fixed on
the horizon. The sun had set in the meantime. Only the last
bright streaks indicated where it had just disappeared.
"I didn't want details about my brother's sex life," I
hissed, a half laugh in my throat.
"Oh, come on, Enzo. Sex is not a bad subject."
"If it involves my brother, it is."
"Would you rather I tell you about my experiences?"
"Please don't."
"Then you can tell me about yours."
 "No way," I growled.
"Why? You must have had a thing with more than one
woman. You're too attractive for it not to be true."
I was sure she would never have said such things when
sober. I stared at her head in amusement.
"If you're that passionate about it: yes."
"Before or after?"
"Before that."
"So you were a bit of a stud in your youth?"
I sounded as if I was as old as the hills. I'd probably
aged at least seven years during the trip to the hut.
"That was Emilio's job, not mine."
"Did you pick up women together?"
I snorted. "I don't share."
"Not even with your brother?"
"Especially not with my brother." This conversation had
gone in a direction that I had neither foreseen nor
expected. What other questions would she ask?
"Boring. I once met two brothers who…"
"Dea."
"Don't you want details?"
"No. I'd like to give your father some credible assurance
that he didn't have to worry about your innocence until we
got married," I replied and promptly started laughing.
I couldn't care less what adventures Amedea'd had – her
father certainly wouldn't be happy with that knowledge.
Besides, I didn't want to permanently have the image of
her being between two men or even in any man's arms.
That simply felt wrong. More than that.
"It's so annoying. I wish he would stop trying to control
my life." She snorted and shook her head, though it still
rested on my shoulder.
"He will. After the party, he can go home, and if I hear
from him again…" I left the sentence unfinished and hoped
she didn't see my scowl.
 I wouldn't be involved in anything more than this party.
No evidence. In any form whatsoever. He would see us
together once; after that, she was mine alone, and he would
play no part in her life unless she specifically requested it.
It was as simple as that. Wasn't it?
"You're doing it again."
"What?"
"You ponder like a nasty gangster boss how to get rid of
your enemies."
"That's my job, raggio di sole."
I could have sworn she rolled her eyes, so I bit my
tongue not to say any more on the subject.
"Do you think he'd buy the whole charade of a happy
marriage if he could see us now?"
I thought about it seriously before putting my arm
around her shoulders and pulled her into a more intimate
embrace. More physical closeness. More familiarity. "Like
this, maybe."
Most importantly, he would see two drunk people, one
not wearing a wedding ring and the other wearing two –
not exactly what would convince her father.
I looked up at the sky and at the first stars that were
rising. Not long now, and pitch black would reign around
us.
The tingling in my legs told me very clearly how bad an
idea it was to be thinking about descending. The
probability that we would break some bone in our body was
higher than that we would reach the bottom unscathed.
"You just won a night in this charming cabin," I
announced.
"Me? What about you? Are you going to sleep out here
on the floor or what?"
In fact, that had been my exact thought.
Amedea, however, made an indignant noise. "Don't be
like that. I'm not poisonous, nor do I bite. Besides, your arm
is still around my shoulder. It certainly doesn't get much
cuddlier in there."
That was quite an announcement. I was tempted to pull
back my arm simply to make my point. However, I let it go.
Mainly because I felt her shivering a little. At least, that
was what I told myself.
OceanofPDF.com
 12

AMEDEA

A lthough there was all-encompassing darkness in

the cabin, I saw in my mind exactly how everything
looked. The dark stained wood, the small camp
kitchen, the table with just one chair. The tiny windows,
from which one could not even observe the starry sky, and
the mezzanine, where a low mattress, a sleeping bag, and a
pillow lay.
None of it smelled fresh. The air was stagnant
throughout the cabin, and not even the open door made a
difference, even though it was a few degrees cooler
outside.
I lay on this very mattress. With Vincenzo, whose body
was so close to mine, I felt the warmth emanating from him
and his irregular breaths. He was not asleep.
I was wide awake, listening to my pounding heart and
staring into the darkness. Should I scold myself for my
suggestion? Lying next to this man just felt wrong on so
many levels.
Nevertheless, the feather-light touch of his arm around
my shoulders had burned itself into my skin. I simply
couldn't forget the feeling he had evoked in me.
Unknowingly. Because he had made it clear more than once
how little he thought of us getting closer.
 I bit my tongue to keep from snorting loudly at this
thought. Sometimes I almost believed he was trying to get
closer to me after all. Maybe he wasn't fully aware of it, but
some of his gestures contradicted his harsh words.
Because I could no longer stand lying on my back, I
turned onto my side and crossed my arms. Everything was
spinning – and that was definitely because of the wine, not
an unexpected earthquake.
That would probably still have been welcome if it had
freed me from this strange situation. I had brought it on
myself, but who could've expected it to become so weird?
The mattress moved slightly when Vincenzo also turned
onto his side. As a matter of course, his arm slipped loosely
over my waist. It took me a second to realize that there was
no other place where he could have comfortably placed his
arm.
I took a deep breath and squinted my eyes. This was
worse than anything else I had experienced in this regard.
This place between repulsion and attraction, where you
didn't know exactly in which direction you were drawn and
whether you would meet the other person there or find
yourself in an embarrassing situation.
Culo. I would never find sleep this way. Alcohol was
supposed to make it easier to close my eyes and drift off
into the land of dreams.
Frustrated, I pinched them together instead of
continuing to stare into the darkness. The weight of his arm
on my body continued to irritate me. Something I wanted to
pay him back only too gladly.
Possibly it was the wine or because I hadn't done
enough daring yet, but I slid backward a few inches in his
direction until I could press my butt against his hip.
Vincenzo should taste a taste of his own medicine.
Maybe then he would realize how unfair it was to get closer
to me but also keep me at a distance.
 "Are you going to tell me what this is about?" he
growled into my ear.
Goosebumps shot over my body, closely followed by a
pleasant shiver. I sent a silent prayer to heaven.
I released my crossed arms to grab his wrist and lift it.
His arm was still wrapped around my waist, though a bit
more stiffly than before.
"I'm just adjusting," I replied, a slight tremor in my
voice. Where the hell did that come from?
I didn't want him to make fun of me because a little
physical closeness threw me off, but I wanted to
understand what he was doing with this constant back and
forth.
My body simply reacted to him. I could not deny that.
"You're adjusting," he repeated. I didn't recognize the
undertone in his voice, but I did recognize the irony in my
statement.
My ass nestled perfectly against his loins. So well that I
could feel details that I had never thought about before.
How would he react if I increased the pressure? Moved
my hips slightly? Would he push me off the bed?
But it was worth the risk if I put him on the spot. Wasn't
it?
Amused at my own train of thought, I rubbed my hips
against him. Barely noticeable.
Nevertheless, I felt his body stiffen. Suddenly his arm
was no longer loosely around me. His fingers tightly
enclosed the fabric of my top.
"Amedea," he said warningly.
I couldn't help but giggle. Why didn't he fight back if he
thought it was so bad?
"What, you want me to do it differently? Would you like
it better then?" I asked provocatively, pausing in my
movement and pressing my ass against him.
Did it cost him a lot of self-control not to get hard? Or
had he really managed to kill all sensations that reacted to
stimuli like this in recent years?
This man was a fucking riddle.
"You're not supposed to do anything!"
"But I like it," I returned defensively. Did he really want
to play the killjoy?
"Not to me," he grumbled.
I thought I heard amusement in his voice. What I didn't
expect, however, was that he'd grab me and turned me
around so that we were lying face to face. The next
moment, Vincenzo lay on his back and pulled me on top of
him.
I straightened, feeling more friction between our bodies,
and his cock gradually responded.
I raised an eyebrow, although he couldn't see it.
Vincenzo was definitely good for surprises.
"And now?" I asked, a cheeky tone in my voice.
Vincenzo's hands were suddenly firmly on my hips,
making me repeat the movements of a moment ago. With
the subtle difference, the touch felt completely different
now. Heat shot to my core as I realized how good it felt
when our bodies touched, even through the fabric, and
even though nothing else had happened.
If he now decided to push me away again, I would
certainly not be able to sleep tonight. My body demanded
more. I wanted more. Starting with the annoying clothes
disappearing and ending with Vincenzo not only playing
with the control he seemed to like to claim but really taking
advantage of it. Taking it.
He could be the asshole that he liked to mime so much. I
wasn't interested in the rest if it as long as it ended with
his cock deep inside my wet pussy.
Maybe then a part of his always grim mood would
disappear…
I rubbed against him with more vigor, biting my lower
lip to hold back the gasp on the tip of my tongue.
 If I bent down to kiss him… would he let me? Or would
the bubble we were in burst? Would we come to an abrupt
end before anything had even begun?
I didn't dare move more than my hips, still directed by
his hands, even if he couldn't control the intensity. Once
again, I bit my lip. I would have liked to see his face to
judge in which direction everything could develop.
But the darkness probably provided the protection he
needed to get involved.
Merda.
A gasp escaped me because I felt exactly how his cock
grew, becoming harder and harder. He had to feel how wet
my underwear was by now.
"Enzo," I hissed, trying to get him to make a decision.
Either we stopped here and now, and I would spend the
next hour touching myself and bringing myself to orgasm
over and over again, or we continued…, and there was no
turning back.
Was he aware of these two options? By God, I hoped so.
"Take off your clothes." Was that awe in his voice?
I did not question the order but simply complied, even
though he couldn't see me.
My breathing quickened as soon as his hand was back
on my hip. This time there was no annoying fabric in the
way, and as soon as I sank back onto him, I noticed he had
used the short time to get rid of his boxers and shirt.
For a split second, my thoughts consisted of curses.
Vincenzo lay naked beneath me, his erection pressed
between my legs, and I could see none of it. My other
senses could hardly make up for that.
I leaned down, brushing my lips along his scratchy chin
until I reached his ear. "Tell me what to do," I murmured,
unsure if I should just take over and make the next move or
if it was better for him to determine which direction it
went.
 I pulled at his earlobe with my teeth before letting go
and moving to his neck and kissing his sensitive skin. All
the while his hands rested on my hips, directing me to
move them against him, even though I would much rather
have felt him inside me than continue to remain anywhere
near chaste.
"Tell me what you like," I murmured as my hand slid
from his chest until my fingertips brushed against his cock.
I clasped it, straightened up, and took one of his hands off
my waist so I could wrap it around my hand.
Tensely, I exhaled as he began to guide my hand slowly. I
enclosed his cock as tightly as he demonstrated and moved
my hand under his guidance until the first gasp escaped
him and his hips automatically followed my movement.
A satisfied grin spread across my lips. I had him. It was
that easy to win him over. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe
he had me, but the end result remained the same.
"Stop," he hissed suddenly. For an agonizingly long
second, I thought all the fun had ended. "On your knees."
Before I could react, he had already loosened my hand
around his cock and pushed me off him, so I had no choice
but to get on my knees.
It was a miracle that he could stand up here at all, but I
felt his thighs against my shoulders and knew instinctively
that he was grasping his erection with one hand while
holding onto a beam above his head with the other.
"If you do well, I'll stop as soon as you beg for it." His
dark voice filled the room around us and my entire world. I
had guessed that he had… secrets, but the way he spoke
those words made me shudder.
He didn't even have to say what he wanted. What he
expected. I knew it, so I waited until the tip of his cock
brushed against my lips and willingly opened my mouth for
him.
Vincenzo let his cock go so he could gather my hair and
hold it. He did not give me time to get used to his thickness
or enormous size but pulled me forward by the makeshift
braid so that I had no choice but to take him entirely in my
mouth.
I blinked against the rising tears and gag reflex, and at
the same time so damn aroused that I would have liked to
touch myself to relieve the pressure between my legs.
His breathing became more uncontrolled the longer he
held me in the current position. He released me after a few
seconds and let me catch my breath. This was only the
beginning and in the end, I would beg. For his cock, my
release, his semen… something.
I let him take control and move my head. Back and forth,
over and over, until he let go of my hair, grabbed my jaw,
and just held me so he could fuck my mouth.
Vincenzo was neither gentle nor cautious. He simply
took what he needed, and I was willing to give him all that
and more.
Pleasure spread in waves throughout my body until I
couldn't help but moan with each thrust. Forgotten was the
gag reflex and that he used me without giving me the
slightest break.
Only his hand on my chin ensured that I continued to be
fine – and that I wouldn't suddenly change my mind.
His cock twitched in my mouth when I teased it with my
tongue and when I enclosed it more tightly.
I heard his harsh moans, which made my body overheat.
He had to give me more than this. Much more.
I pulled back to lift my head and look in the direction
where I suspected his face was. I gasped for air, a little
glad for the brief respite and at the same time feeling a
certain emptiness that I wanted him to fill immediately.
"Enzo," I murmured, a little out of breath. "I need more
from you, please. Merda. I'm sure lust is eating you up as
much as it's killing me. So, please. Please."
His hand landed in my hair again. Hard. He pulled on it
almost painfully.
 "Say that again."
"What?"
"My name."
I grinned, leaning forward until my hands rested on his
thighs, and I could push up on his body. "Enzo," I repeated,
biting my lip before stroking the length of his cock with my
tongue.
He cursed and dropped down to his knees. I felt his hot
breath on my face. "Don't forget him when you're begging
for more," he murmured, yanking on my hair and bringing
our mouths together for a hard, unyielding kiss.
Lust exploded in my core. I grabbed his shoulders and
pulled him closer until our bodies collided. His hard, wet
erection pressed against my stomach. Tantalizing.
He made a few vigorous moves, and I purred like a
kitten in desperate need of more. Damn. It wasn't me who
had him in the palm of my hand. It was him who had me.
"I want you inside me, Enzo. I want to know how it feels
when you fill me completely. I want to feel your cock
twitching inside me and the feeling of my tight, wet pussy
driving you wild," I murmured between kisses.
He did not ask twice. I landed on my back, he put my
right leg over his shoulder. Seconds later, I felt the tip of
his cock pressing against my pussy. If I moved just an inch
he would slide into me without resistance and give me
exactly what I had asked for.
But it did not happen. Instead, he leaned forward until
his mouth was against my ear. "All I want to hear from you
in a moment is your pleasure. How you scream in pain in
between. And my name because it's so perfect on your
lips."
With his last word, he pushed into me, simultaneously
robbing me of breath and mind. I bit my lip but still
couldn't hold back the moan. With that, he finally brought
me closer to my already lurking orgasm. It wouldn't take
much more to make me explode. Another sentence of this
kind murmured in my ear in his dark voice, or a brief touch
of his fingers on my clit, and…
But he held back on both as if he were aware of it.
With long but quick thrusts, he penetrated me deeply,
catching that spot that sent waves of pleasure through my
body and catapulted me to another level. He was aware of
what he was doing and exploited it to the fullest.
I turned into a moaning, sweaty, wet mess that lived only
for the blissful feeling he gave me with every movement of
his damn body.
We did not remain long in the position. Instead, he
pulled out of me, which I acknowledged with a regretful
sound, and turned me onto my stomach. His hands ran over
my back until they reached my ass.
He struck. Outraged, I cried out. "Enzo! "
But he just laughed. "I told you. Pain and my name."
With little real motivation, I tried to pull my ass out of
his grasp, but he grabbed my hips tighter, pulling them up
a little, creating a hollow back. Then I felt his cock against
my pussy again. With a sigh, I took him inside me, throwing
my head back.
His hand closed around my neck. As if in confirmation, I
placed my hand over his, meeting each thrust resiliently,
legs closed and ass pressed against his stomach.
His moans became more profound, his movements more
frantic. More demanding. Harder. Tighter and tighter, he
gripped, rougher and rougher he thrust into me. I moaned
his name, the only thing I could do because I could no
longer breathe.
With his free hand, he encircled my breast, played with
the nipple, and pulled on it… sending me over the cliff so
unexpectedly hard that I came wincing and gasping, a
laugh on my lips as I realized that his restraint had failed
and he had also made himself come through my orgasm.
I felt him between my legs, his weight on me, and his
irregular breathing and fast heartbeat against me.
 Part of me firmly believed that it was over. But Vincenzo
sank back onto the mattress, reached out, and pulled me to
his side as if we had done this a hundred times before. As if
it were normal. As if the wine hadn't played a role.
Hesitantly, I rested my head on his shoulder, listening to
his still rapid heartbeat, trying not to ruin the moment.
After a while, he turned on his side and buried his head
between my neck and shoulder, one arm loosely draped
over my body. It was immediately apparent he had sunk
into the sleep I was waiting for in vain.
Still, it hit me when I heard him barely audibly
muttering a name. Not mine. But that of his deceased wife.
OceanofPDF.com
 13

VINCENZO

F rom my first waking moment, I knew I had made a

mistake. A big mistake. It was not the headache
that throbbed behind my temples nor the
unbearable heat in the small hut. The alcohol had nothing
to do with it. But the woman on whose chest my head
rested had a lot to do with it. Who had her arm wrapped
around my shoulders. Whose sensual scent settled in my
nose and now scolded me a fool because it was
undoubtedly not Rina who lay under me, but Dea, who still
slept peacefully.
Last night she had given me hell for it. And all because
she had pressed her sweet, firm ass into my loins and torn
my patience into little snippets.
I hated myself for the satisfaction in my chest and for
feeling reasonably comfortable, even though we were both
sweaty against each other and my mouth was bone dry.
However, I had made a mistake.
How did I get out of this without it getting weird?
Without offending her – after all, I could have ended it at
any time. Instead, I had enjoyed it and completely lost
myself in how good it felt to feel her body around my cock
and know that I alone was eliciting all those glorious
sounds from her.
 How she had reacted to my rough touches. How she…
merda. This was the third unplanned erection since I had
known her. Gradually it became annoying.
Carefully, I lifted my head and put some distance
between us. Where had I thrown my damn clothes?
It had happened. And I remembered every second of it
vividly. Merda. My body related to the memory of it very
well, too. My cock twitched as I thought about fucking her
mouth and again as I mentally moved to the feeling that
had spread through me like a forest fire when I had finally
penetrated her.
Merda. She was so willing. So compliant. So careful not
to make a mistake that would cause me to call it all off.
That damn bitch knew full well that I was haunted by my
wife's ghost and had done everything she could to get
around it. Like a witch who had unsuspectingly wrapped
me around her finger.
Maybe I should go from raggio di sole to calling her
maga or strega. Strega malvagia was even more
appropriate when I revisited the night with her.
Dea had crept under my protective armor without me
noticing. I had, mistakenly, believed to have the situation
and her under control. Nothing happened without my
knowledge.
How stupid I had been, I realized now as I sat next to
her on the mattress and let my gaze wander over her body.
Over her hair and her face. When she slept, she seemed so
angelic. Over her perfect breasts, the curves and the flat
belly that merged into her hips and ended with this fucking
magical place that still attracted me and wanted to
persuade me to push her legs apart, lie down between
them and wake her up from sleep with my tongue.
Where was a firearm when you needed it? A bullet in my
brain would have been more merciful than sitting next to
Dea, staring at her and losing myself in wild daydreams I
could never make come true.
 Or could I?
No.
I could not.
I finally tore myself away from my thoughts, gathered
my clothes, and carefully lifted myself from the mezzanine
into the cabin. Outside I got dressed, ignoring that I could
still feel the memory of last night on my, still damn hard,
cock and stared bitterly into the morning sun.
Could she find her way back alone? I hoped so because
before I spent a second longer in her presence, which made
me forget my principles, I longed for distance.
What had I gotten myself into?
During the descent, I checked my phone for new
messages, hoping that someone needed me in Naples or
somewhere else as long as I wasn't stuck in Tramonti, but
nothing.
I took out my briefly flaring anger at myself on a vine
that could do absolutely nothing about it but, in the end, lay
uselessly on the ground and would certainly not bear any
grapes in the future.
But that was not enough. I felt like doing something
really bloodthirsty. I thought of the man – the other I had
invited to an exclusive predator feeding in the very first
row – who was still sitting in my cellar and hurried home.
How long would it take for Dea to wake up? Until she
realized that she had to master the descent alone? It would
probably make her angry. So I had at least an hour. If
everything went well, maybe two.
As soon as I entered the house, I grabbed the cellar key,
climbed downstairs into the damp, musty rooms, and didn't
take any time softening the guy up with psycho terror.
I yanked open the metal barred door of the dungeon,
stomped inside, and unchained his ankles before
unchaining him from the wall. With a jerk, I pulled the half-
naked guy to his feet and dragged him out of the small
room and into the hallway leading to another room with a
single chair in the center.
Natale's torture cellar was not unknown to me, but I had
never spent time there. Not even then, when everything
had been different.
With deft movements, I strapped the guy, who was
nameless to me, to the chair, loosened the tape that held
the feeding tube in place, and pulled the tube out of his
nose with one fluid motion.
He threw up on the floor, which I watched with my head
tilted. "Well. That's it for your last meal for the next few
days," I said with a shrug.
If he answered, I didn't hear. I never listened to men like
him. No matter what they said, it didn't matter.
I heard the small voice in the back of my mind. My
hunger for pure destruction wanted to be satisfied.
Because I thought nothing of aids in torture, I rubbed
my hands together in preparation. A little warm-up
wouldn't hurt, would it?
I stepped in front of him, lashed out with a right hook to
the chin that threw his head back. Blood dripped from his
mouth.
The idiot had bitten his tongue.
Before he had caught himself I gave him the next blow.
And another, during which I heard a bone crunch
protestingly.
I ignored the pain in my knuckles and mentally
withdrew. Unfortunately, it was not like usual. Because this
time, I wasn't alone, in this safe place of thought, but I had
company.
Based on the last few hours, I expected Dea to be at my
side, but instead, it was Rina and me standing shoulder to
shoulder, her small hand wrapped around mine.
Her presence in that place deep in my mind was like a
punch in the gut. All these years, I had wanted nothing
more than this, and now she was just there?
 I had begged for a dream, for her voice in my ears.
Something that was not my memory. But none of it had ever
come true.
I took a few seconds to reach for her hand and hold it
before turning slightly in her direction.
Amused, she looked at me, small wrinkles around her
eyes. Nothing had changed except that her body was not
marked by the brutalities inflicted on her shortly before her
death.
"You're making fun of me," I stated, a little amused but
also outraged.
"On the contrary, I am happy for you, cuore mio."
I snorted. "About what?"
There was nothing to be happy about. Shouldn't she be
much angrier? I had married Dea and now slept with her,
although everything in me had resisted even thinking about
another woman because there had only ever been Rina for
me.
She let go of my hand, only to slide it under my shirt and
gently run it over my tense muscles. I wanted nothing more
than to sink against her body and let her catch me but it
didn't work that way in this world of thought.
I was far too aware that she was dead. Did not exist.
Was an illusion.
"Because you finally learned to let go. Because you
realized you have to move on."
"I don't want to let go," I growled, aware that she would
not accept that answer.
I had held on to her long after her death. Why should I
let go of her now?
"She's a great woman. Makes you laugh, even if you
won't admit it, you old stubborn bastard." Her other hand
stroked through my hair, making some of the weight in my
shoulders disappear. "What's wrong with getting involved
with her?"
"She's not you."
 She laughed. "No one will ever be me. And I don't think
she aspires to be. Tell me you haven't grown at least a little
fond of her, Vincenzo."
I closed my eyes so I could sink into her soft touches. "I
hate her," I mumbled, leading to Rina laughing again,
making me feel her fingernails on my back.
"And now you're lying."
"I swore to be faithful to you until death do us part," I
growled.
"But I am dead, cuore mio, and I want to see you happy.
You deserve it. Punishing yourself will not bring me back to
life. No matter how much you wish it."
I felt the blows I was still giving the guy in front of me,
losing strength.
Did she know that she was ripping my heart out again?
The first time with her death and now again by telling me
to forget her.
"Rina …" I pleaded, a fucking lump in my throat.
I wanted to hold her, but her appearance was just smoke
and mirrors. She touched me, but I could not get hold of
her, no matter how hard I tried.
"It's time, Vincenzo. You need her now more than you
need me." It didn't even sound like she regretted that.
With the next blow, I was back to reality, away from the
safe place I appreciated so much in my mind. Anger welled
inside me, so I grabbed the chair and hurled it and the guy
against the cellar wall.
The chair splintered, and the guy went down
unconscious. I yelled a curse, stomped out of the room, and
locked the metal door behind me. Let him rot, for fuck's
sake!
Seething further inside, I trudged upstairs to my office,
locked the door behind me, and proceeded with the
destruction. I cleared the desk in a single movement, only
to throw the controller into the TV. The chair behind my
desk broke as soon as I hurled it against the wall. The
armchair was not spared either. The windows were broken.
I didn't stop when I felt pain shooting through my body,
and not even when I realized that tears were running down
my face as Rina had broken my heart a second time.
"PORCO CANE!"
And all because of this witch.

Anger didn't begin to describe what I read on Amedea's

face when, at some point, she pushed open the door to my
office and leaned on the frame with her arms folded.
I had locked it, hadn't I?
Her gaze slid over the destruction I had wrought, in the
midst of which I still stood. She said nothing. However, the
disappointment in her eyes said much more than words
could have.
I bit my tongue, crossed my arms, and turned fully in
her direction. This gesture alone felt like I was facing the
end boss.
Rina's words still floated through my mind, and yet I
could not look at Dea properly or stutter a word of apology.
She probably didn't want to hear them either.
"You could have at least shown enough decency not to
leave me there alone." Was all she said after a few minutes.
I had no answer to that. My brain had stopped and
decided to flee instead of fight. Apparently, I was just
learning to master the talent of making wrong decisions.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, but you'd better
start cleaning up and figure out something for the
windows," she said, nodding toward the frames where the
glass had been sitting a short time ago. "It's supposed to
rain this afternoon. The best thing to do is to call Fiero.
Maybe he'll help you. Because I'm not going to do it."
I didn't know what was worse. The rejection in her voice
or that she didn't let on how upset she was because of my
misbehavior.
"Good idea," I muttered, even though I had no idea how
to explain the mess to Fiero without being called crazy.
"Are you going to destroy any other things, Enzo?" She
looked directly at me. Her arms crossed protectively in
front of her chest.
She wasn't alluding to the furnishings or the house. I
swallowed. Was she petrified I might hurt her? Was this
about what stood between us? Damn it. I had gotten too
deep into this shit to come out unscathed.
What did she expect from me?
"I didn't intend to," I finally said meekly, hoping to
reassure her a little.
I couldn't tell her that Rina had appeared to me and had
practically given me permission not only to screw Dea's
brains out but also do everything else that a marriage
entailed.
I wrinkled my nose. I was not even close to being
convinced to get involved.
"I'm sure you didn't intend to whisper your dead wife's
name in my ear either, and yet that's exactly what
happened." Her snarky comment was unexpected, making
me wince.
I had no memory of that. I knew how hard I had tried to
imagine Rina instead of Dea, but I was also well aware that
I had failed miserably. Dea was different. No comparison to
Rina.
"I… please… what?!" Confused, I took a step in her
direction.
"You heard me right, Enzo. I don't know if the wine has
gone to your head and you've hallucinated or if it's some
perverted way of soothing your guilty conscience, but…"
She snorted. "I'm not up for that. I will not get into a
contest with a dead woman. I'm not going to play substitute
for her. And I'm certainly will not try to outdo her. I know
you loved her very much and had no choice but to marry
me, but that doesn't mean you can play that kind of game
with me. That's cruel. And unfair."
Surprised, I raised an eyebrow. She had approached me
yesterday – not the other way around. How did she now
conclude that I was playing with her? When the truth was
so far, far away from that!
"Whatever you think you know… forget it," I hissed,
bridging the distance and rearing up in front of her. "You're
wrong."
"Is that so? Then give me a plausible reason why you left
me all alone after we had sex."
"I was angry at myself," I said. "I didn't know where to
direct that anger. I didn't want to raise false hopes. I was
aware of what a mistake it was."
All of it was true and yet so far removed from the other
reasons that had also played a role.
"We're adults, Enzo. This is ridiculous."
"What do you want to hear, Dea?"
"The truth, damn it. You had fun last night. You enjoyed
it. You can't deny that."
I actually couldn't, even though I would like to. "Fine," I
grumbled. It didn't take much to mentally transport me
back to this morning.
"I woke up, and the muscles in my shoulders didn't feel
tight for the first time in years. I woke up feeling
reasonably comfortable and content in my body. I woke up
with my head on your chest and your arm around me, and it
felt good. I could smell you, feel your warmth and
remember the previous night. The one I enjoyed. But none
of it was supposed to be like this. Neither was it supposed
to please me nor have that kind of effect on me. That's why
I sought the distance. Because I can't do this here."
 Waiting, I stared at her while she eyed me with the same
intensity. A few seconds passed before she nodded and took
a step back. Not only physically. Emotionally. Mentally. On
all the levels we had tapped into last night.
"Well, at least my father will buy this shitty farce now."
The words hit me like well-aimed punches.
I hardly deserved anything else.
Dea's gaze fell on my hands clenched into fists. "Should
have Fiero fix that up once he gets here, by the way. Looks
pretty ugly to me."
With that, she turned away and disappeared up the
stairs to the other side of the house. Her shoulders didn't
slump, although I was sure I could tell how she was feeling.
I raised my hands and looked at my knuckles. Scraps of
skin stood out, and crusted blood had run down my fingers.
All in all, they were a mess, and I was glad I could blame it
on the destruction of my office instead of revealing what I
had really maltreated them with.
OceanofPDF.com
 14

AMEDEA

S ince I had shown up at Vincenzo's office and he had

been so honest with me after leaving me alone in the
cabin, we had not exchanged another word. I
honestly didn't want to see him at all.
Perhaps I had interpreted more into the evening and
night in the vineyards than he had ever intended, and that
hit me especially hard. His excuse for this had been
strange, his excuse was anything but believable.
Unfortunately, I could no longer avoid him because, in a
few hours, the party at Fiero's was starting. An icy knot had
formed in my stomach because so much hung on this
evening, and I could not estimate in which mood Vincenzo
would be. Would he play along? Or would he quit after what
had happened in the past few days?
I had no idea what I could and could not expect from
him. I only knew that I was downright afraid of my father
and for what consequences he drew from the evening.
Did he realize what had happened between Vincenzo
and me? Did the others recognize it? Did they approve?
Were they happy for their brother? Or was my fate finally
sealed, and I had to devise an escape plan from Italy sooner
rather than later?
With these thoughts in mind, I set about getting ready
for the party. The satin dress that Carlotta and I had chosen
now looked colorless and no longer suitable for our
purposes. Nevertheless, I slipped it on, slipped into my
shoes, and turned my hair into a wild mane. I applied make-
up and finally took the wedding ring from the nightstand to
slip it over my finger.
Combined with a subtle necklace, the whole outfit
looked like I had stumbled out of a luxurious boutique. Like
one of those mafia wives from movies and books. Fucking
rich, with a fat bling on her finger and a fierce man on her
arm.
I had managed to persuade Fiero to pick me up. To
avoided an embarrassing ride with Vincenzo, and I could
mingle with the others when I arrived. If Vincenzo showed
up at all, he would find me – and my father him. Let him
think what he wanted about our separate arrival.
Before heading downstairs, I grabbed my phone and a
clutch to stash everything I needed.
I didn't give the opposite part of the house a glance. Let
him burn in his demolished office if he wanted to wallow in
self-pity and self-hatred.
I had reached out to him more than once and he had
always managed to push me away and ensure that I no
longer had the nerve to do so.
Fiero was waiting in front of the entrance, leaning
against his turquoise runabout. He stared at his phone and
seemed to notice me only when I stood before him.
"I don't know who thought all this was a good idea, but
my enthusiasm is already lagging," was his greeting.
I grinned. "It's Emilio's fault."
"What about Signore Grim?"
Emphatically disinterested, I shrugged my shoulders. "I
don't know, haven't seen him since the day before
yesterday."
For all I knew, he might have been lying half-dead in his
office.
 "Sounds great. So no one knows if he even thinks it's
necessary to show up there." I read pity in Fiero's gaze but
didn't let that bother me.
"Let's just go. I don't feel like putting it off
unnecessarily." With every minute we lingered, we ended
up doing just that. We were putting off the inevitable.
"They're all looking forward to seeing you," he informed
me, this time with a friendly expression.
I nodded and got in after Fiero opened the door for me.
My joy had been dampened by the situation. It had never
really been there, but I had hoped to arrive at this party as
one unit with Vincenzo and to be able to make it
unmistakably clear that my father no longer had any say.
I couldn't have been further from that at that moment.
Once Fiero was behind the wheel, and the engine was
purring, he looked at me briefly. "You know, in some ways, I
understand why he is the way he is. It hurts to lose
someone you love. Watching that person die is the worst
thing that can happen to you. But he didn't have to do all
that to you, because it’s more than unfair."
"You lost someone?" I asked, even though it was not the
point of his statement. I wondered anyway how many
details from my time here Fiero knew. Did Vincenzo keep
him informed of everything what happened? Or was Fiero
just good at working out the essentials?
"My girlfriend, yes." He laughed a little bitterly. "I
always refused to marry her. Funnily enough, that's what I
regret the most, looking back."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, even though it suddenly made
sense why Fiero and Vincenzo spent so much time together.
They shared each other's pain, while the others had no clue
what that felt like.
"It doesn't have to. I've made my peace with it."
"Have you had any relationships since then?"
Fiero looked straight ahead at the road, for which I was
grateful, given the distance. "Nothing serious. I won't kid
you about that. But I wouldn't sabotage it if it came to
that."
"Is that what Enzo does?" I asked, although deep inside,
I already knew the answer.
"If you ask me, he's an idiot," Fiero muttered but pulled
himself together. "He told me some things while we got his
office back in order. About the kiss, your arguments, that
night in the vineyards."
Fortunately, he did not put any special emphasis on it.
Otherwise, I would have turned bright red at that moment.
The idea that Vincenzo had told him about the night and
had not left out even the smallest detail gave me the
creeps.
"But he also told me what happened after that. And right
now, he's just being stubborn because he won't admit
certain things. That he not only thinks you're okay but likes
you. That he's not tarnishing Rina's memory just because
he's involved with another woman. That she, on the
contrary, even approves when he does something good for
himself."
"How would he know that?"
"He firmly believes that she appeared to him in some
kind of daydream."
"But everybody has those. He could have just made it up
himself."
"That's just it. In all those years, he never managed to
do just that. He had the memories, but it was never
possible for him to lose himself in daydreams."
I snorted. I didn't believe in phenomena like this –
however, it was interesting how his subconscious worked
against his consciousness and wanted to assure him that it
was okay to start a new phase of his life.
"I never cared about getting close to him. I wanted to
see him not scowling quite so much. To help him be a little
happier. But not to become a replacement for his dead
wife."
 "He's not looking for that either, don't worry."
"I don't think he's looking for anything."
"I do. He just won't admit it."
I raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at Fiero.
He laughed. Amused. "It's absolutely true. He didn't
have to marry you. I'm sure there could have been another
solution if he'd thought about it. But I think it was the only
way for him to leave his hermit existence behind. It was
easy. He could put forward other reasons. He could
continue to pretend it was terrible. Quite possibly, it wasn't
his intention to do anything with you. But that's exactly
what he did. And now Vincenzo is too much of a coward to
go through with it properly." Shocked, Fiero looked at me.
"Just don't tell him I said that."
"Why? Would he ripping your head off?"
"Worse," he replied with a laugh but didn't elaborate.
That was not even necessary because, he had already
given me enough to think about.
The trip did not take us to Naples as usual but to
Miseno, a town at the end of the Phlegraean Peninsula
right on the Gulf of Naples. We passed by a lake. But even
more impressive was the sea, visible from every road. The
rocky landscape was the perfect place for the modern villa
that blended into the stones not a hundred yards from the
sea surrounded by hills and crater lakes.
Numerous cars were parked in front of the enormous
garages, including my father's.
Fiero parked his car a little apart so he could drive off
anytime without any problems.
He pointed in the direction of the villa, which was
impressively illuminated from various sides, making a
particularly luxurious impression in the gathering twilight.
"Welcome to Villa de Archard. Not quite as impressive as
what Emilio has to offer, but clearly better than what
Vincenzo calls home. You shouldn't let him know that by the
way."
 Grinning, Fiero got out, came around the car, and then
held out his hand to help me get out. I was glad that I could
cling to this clutch but quite positively surprised when
Fiero hooked my arm through his and led me to the
staircase.
"We repurposed the patio for the party. My sisters
weren't quite so thrilled about their nightly movie
marathon falling through, but I guess a load of candy will
appease them."
"You have sisters?"
"Just sisters, yes. All younger and all terribly annoying."
"Are they not attending the party?"
"I hope not. The oldest is fourteen. I wasn't going to fish
her out of the fruit punch. Whereas, wait. Actually, that's
not quite true. The oldest of my sisters is already of age but
has decided to study abroad, leaving me alone with the
tormentors, fourteen and younger."
"And your parents?"
"Are busy with their business. There is a nanny, but I
gave her the day off. Her interest in Natale is starting to
take over."
Interesting. So quickly, I was in the middle of the action
– although I had not even entered the party, and Fiero had
spilled much gossip.
"I'm excited to see how the evening will go."
"Me too, believe me," I muttered.

From the spacious terrace, you could look directly at the

sea. Low bushes and trees nestled into the rocky
landscape, so I wasn't even sure if it was a sandy beach or
if everything was just sharp-edged stones.
 The terrace was closed off at the end by an infinity pool.
Tonight it lay quietly, but I could imagine Fiero's siblings
using it and keeping him busy.
Fortunately, he had shielded me from my father's eyes
and discreetly brought me to the small circle formed by
Emilio, Dario, and two women. As was Natale, the only one
who made no secret of his disinterest in the whole event,
Carlotta was also in the immediate vicinity.
Emilio's gaze darkened when he realized I had shown up
without his brother. I looked at him apologetically, letting
him know with a glance that I had no idea if Vincenzo
would join us.
Not a good thing. After all, I felt my father's presence at
my back. I was sure he was just waiting for the right
opportunity to make a fuss. He would hold Emilio
responsible, and he would have no choice but to screw his
brother.
"I guess Carlotta should have enrolled in fashion studies
after all," Dario commented, glancing at the satin dress.
His sister commented with a less than enthusiastic
snort. "No way."
While the men appeared in suits, the other women had
also opted for dresses. Thus, I no longer stood out so much
in the crowd and immediately felt more comfortable, even
if the company I enjoyed made most people at least
nervous.
Dario's hand was loosely around Gia's waist, while
Flavia had one arm draped on Emilio's shoulder. Natale
was leaning against the terrace railing, and Carlotta was
busy staring into her phone. Fiero stood next to me,
watching over my head the other people present, none of
whom had yet dared come near us.
Not even my father, who was staring in our direction
from the other end of the terrace.
"And my brother is sulking at home?" Dario asked
casually, a twinkle in his eye.
 It probably amused him that Vincenzo, of all people,
behaved like that.
I raised my shoulders. "Honestly, I have no idea what
he's up to."
The answer was clear enough and made it evident where
Vincenzo and I stood. Far, far in the off.
"Maybe I should have personally made him get his ass
over here after all," Emilio muttered but didn't let his anger
show. You could only hear it in his voice.
"In the end, it's his decision," I replied with a shrug.
At the same moment, I felt the mood on the terrace
change. As if everyone present had been waiting for
something to happen.
Emilio raised his head, an amused grin on his lips as he
stared past me.
I turned my head to see Vincenzo hurry down the stairs
from the villa to the terrace. He unbuttoned his jacket,
came purposefully toward us, and before I knew what was
happening, his arm was around my waist. He pulled me to
his side, kissed me on the cheek, and then turned to face
me.
"Sorry for the delay. I had a few things to do," he
announced and smiled.
He smiled.
What had gotten into him? Was this how he imagined the
perfect show for my father? The words stuck in my throat.
"Was one of those things finding your balls again?" Dario
asked provocatively and just loud enough for our little
group to hear.
Vincenzo raised an eyebrow, still that damned smile on
his lips. Had he taken drugs to survive the evening? Mood
enhancers? It already overwhelmed me that he had shown
up at all. And now he was showing off his best mood while
keeping me close to his side as if it was the most natural
thing in the world.
 "Is there a reason you worry so much about other men's
balls, Dario?" Vincenzo asked, a teasing undertone in his
voice.
The latter shrugged his shoulders. "I just wanted to
make sure Amedea could enjoy the whole package."
"Cute," I replied before Vincenzo could say anything.
"But an unwarranted concern."
The grip around my waist tightened for a second.
Oops. Had I just accidentally revealed a secret? He
didn't deserve it any other way. With a sugary smile, I
looked up, knowing he could say absolutely nothing in
return. After all, my father was present, and he certainly
didn't want to jeopardize the entire spectacle.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I won the bet with that,"
Natale intervened, stepping forward with his hands
outstretched.
Grumbling, Carlotta slapped a five-hundred-euro bill on
his hand. Dario, Gia and Emilio did the same.
Fiero raised his hands placatingly. "Flavia and I had
decided not to bet on other people's sex lives."
"Wise decision," Vincenzo growled in Fiero's direction,
who laughed.
"This is going great," Emilio noted in response. Sarcasm.
I grinned. I don't know what he had in mind, but in the
end, it was clear that it was going exactly as had been
planned. I couldn't remember any story he had told me
about family celebrations where everything had gone the
way they'd planned.
While only half listening to the conversation in our little
circle, I decided to take the farce a little more to the
extreme. Casually, I let my arm slide around Vincenzo's
waist until my hand disappeared into his pants' back
pocket.
He leaned a little in my direction in an almost intimate
gesture that made my heartbeat flutter.
 "Just so you know," he said softly in a low voice. "I'll
slide that dress over your hot ass and make you cum on my
cock as soon as I get a chance. After that, we'll return to
the others, and no one will know what happened. No one
but me."
His words came without warning. No preparation time.
My mouth was suddenly bone dry, and I had every effort
not to choke on my tongue. I blinked in surprise, unable to
formulate a quick-witted response.
Was he serious? Or was he aiming for my reaction to
prove something to my father?
In my mind, the memories of the night in the hut
surfaced and drove my pulse even higher. The thought that
he'd fuck me close to all these people and put his hand over
my mouth to ensure no one noticed. Merda. I felt myself
getting wet.
My concentration on what was happening around us was
rapidly dwindling.
"Are you serious?" I muttered. At the same time, I
prepared myself for disappointment when he explained that
it was just for the show.
"Why would I lie about that?" Amused, he looked at me,
and I could not help but react surprised.
Vincenzo really was out of his mind. The last few days,
he had shown me the cold shoulder and again and again
made it unmistakably clear how little he thought of my
attempts to meet him. Now he showed up here, behaved
like a new man, and whispered nasty threats in my ear
while he nonchalantly conversed with his brothers, who
were obnoxious to what he had just said to me.
Holy shit.
I wasn't sure I was ready for this transformation.
"I can think of a million reasons."
"Forget about them. All of them. What I said counts. So
you should get used to the idea of suffering a little. If only
because Fiero picked you up when you could have just as
easily or even better ridden with me."
I snorted. I would certainly not start this discussion with
him now. Instead, I stood on my tiptoes to whisper my
answer into his ear.
"You're an asshole, Enzo. And I can't wait for you to be
inside me," I said softly.
His grip around my waist tightened.
Two could play this game. He wanted to drive me crazy
with desire? Then he would endure the same torture while
we were trapped here with his family, and mine was
waiting to tear us apart.
"Fiero is an insanely bad host," Carlotta stated, rebuke
in her voice.
"I'm just providing the venue, favorite cousin. Not all the
bells and whistles."
She rolled her eyes, grabbed a champagne glass from a
nearby table, and with Natale's help, climbed onto a chair
to get everyone's attention.
"Since Fiero is so insanely bad with words, I thought I'd
do the greeting," she announced, a bright smile on her lips.
"I don't want to talk too long, either. This isn't a large-scale
celebration, nor is there an official occasion. We just felt
like throwing a little party, and we're glad that some of
Emilio's loyal companions were able to join us.
Nevertheless, I wanted to take the opportunity to once
again congratulate Vincenzo and his wife after they
couldn't stand being in the chapel much longer after the
ceremony."
She waved the glass in our direction and winked at me.
Clever how she brought attention to us when neither of us
expected it. No time to correct our physical closeness and
stand there halfway decent.
Actually, it shouldn't have caught me off guard that they
all went to such lengths to convince my father there was no
reason for his skepticism, yet somehow it moved me.
 The cohesion in the de Archard family always seemed to
be there, despite disagreements. Something I didn't know
from my father because he basically bought loyalty – only
to find out in the end, time and time again, that it didn't
protect him from fraud.
"Someone should put on some music," Carlotta
concluded, grabbing Natale's hand and jumping off the
chair.
She was excellent. With not a word or action did she let
slip that she was the sister of the three brothers. On the
contrary, she was considered more a distant relative or a
close friend of the two cousins – Fiero and Natale.
Because of her appearance, it was unmistakable that she
belonged to the family, but for that reason alone, no one
would guess whose sister she actually was.
After a few seconds, music spilled over the terrace, and
a few of the guests started dancing while everyone on our
side held back.
Vincenzo, meanwhile, stood behind me, his arms around
me, and pulled me close enough to lean comfortably
against him. "What do you say we have a little fun?"
"You want to dance?" I asked skeptically, wondering
again what had gotten into him.
"I want him to be embarrassed to realize that there was
never anything to worry about."
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 15

VINCENZO

L iquid fire shot through my veins. Dea's body had

nestled so perfectly against mine during the dance
that I had found it challenging to keep my temper
and concentrated on not stepping on her feet.
I was thankful for wherever she had learned the moves
she had just used to show off what she was really made of.
Merda.
It had cost me countless hours to persuade myself to put
aside my stubborn attitude toward this woman and to
accept not only what Rina had said but also Fiero. Several
times. Repeating themselves like a broken record.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to smash the record.
When I noticed Taddeo Santoro coming toward me, I
grabbed Dea's hand and pulled her in the opposite
direction, up the stairs toward the villa. We left the terrace
behind.
She was out of breath, which was no wonder after the
little Lambada interlude. I hurried to take her further away
from the other guests and not only to avoid her father but
also my siblings.
That Emilio's eyes had almost fallen out of his head
seemed to be the understatement of the century. Whatever
they had expected after Amedea's revelation. Perhaps
Emilio still thought it was a joke… by the way, I really had
to have a talk with Natale. How could he think of betting on
my sex life?
With Dario and Gia, I wasn't surprised; their penchant
for gambling and risky ventures was widely known. But
Natale? He kept too low a profile for me to have expected
what was happening within the family when their backs
were turned for a few weeks.
Unlike Amedea, I knew my way around the villa, so I led
her straight to the kitchen, where there was a quiet space.
Everything was happening outside, and that was just as
well.
She lifted herself onto the countertop, faced me with her
arms crossed.
I suspected that it wouldn’t be just a quickie, to avoid
meeting her father.
"Do you plan to explain what happened there?" she
asked, with an amused grin as she gestured her hand in the
air in front of my body.
"What are you getting at?"
"Don't tell me you don't have a clue."
"I, at least, prefer that assertion."
"Ah," she murmured. "You'd rather I accept it, too, and
not react. Just pretend nothing's changed."
"Indeed. That would suit me best." I knew that we'd not
come so far. But one was allowed to dream, I guess.
Dea jutted her chin. One eyebrow raised slightly. "Too
bad this isn't Wishful Thinking."
"What do you want to hear?" I asked provocatively and
propped my hands on the countertop on either side of her.
Now there wasn't quite as much distance between us.
"You ask me that a hell of a lot for a man who otherwise
always has an opinion he's happy to share."
Of course, this was said to annoy me and provoke a
reaction. Dea had perfected this practice since the wedding
and managed in a fraction of a few seconds, to upset me,
where that usually took much longer.
 "It may have occurred to me how negative my original
reaction was. And how good it felt to let someone get closer
to me." She gulped at my statement.
Her gaze hung on my eyes but then dropped to my
mouth. I almost expected her to end the conversation and
just kiss me so we could move on to the more important
part of our little excursion, but that didn't happen.
She pulled herself together and, at the same time,
challenged me.
"And what is that supposed to tell me now, de Archard?"
she asked, perfectly striking the demanding undertone.
I tilted my head. "This isn't going to be a movie-like
scene if that's what you're aiming for."
Amused, I eyed her, at which point Dea gave me a gentle
push against my shoulder. "I asked you."
"I don't love you, Amedea de Archard. But I also can't
deny needing you in my life."
"And this from Signore Grim himself. I can hardly
believe it."
"That's all you have to say about it?" I asked, teasing
her.
"Oh, I'm not entirely convinced about your seriousness
and that you might change your mind again tomorrow. But
for now, I can accept it if it means you drop your pants and
back up your words from before with some action."
My gaze automatically fell on her hands, which were in
the process of pushing the dress up. Her panties were a
scrap of material.
Ever since that night in the cabin, my subconscious had
wondered what it would be like to get closer to her in
daylight rather than in pure darkness that swallowed all
visual stimuli.
My brain short circuited when I saw how wet she was. I
had not even touched her – apart from the dance, which
had clearly shown how perfectly our bodies could nestle
together.
 "Are you just going to stare at me, or…?"
I looked at her darkly. She didn’t even let me enjoy this
sight without a quip.
I slid my hands up her thighs until I reached the thin
fabric of her panties. Then I tore it off, let it fall to the
ground, and pulled her close to me for a short but hard
kiss.
It reminded me of our first kiss when she had challenged
me, and the situation had gotten out of control. Sparks
flew.
She quickly freed my cock from my suit pants. I tore
myself away from her mouth and put a hand over it.
With a twinkling expression in my eyes, I looked at her.
"We don't want anyone to hear you, do we?"
Everything in me resisted the idea that someone else
could hear all the sweet sounds that escaped her during
sex. How my name sounded on her lips…
"You'll have to take what you want, maga," I murmured
in her ear because her fingers were still chastely around
my cock, as if waiting for me to take the lead.
But I liked it when she let a little of her fire shine
through.
Determined, she brought my cock to her pussy and gave
me a full two seconds to get used to the warm, comforting
feeling between her legs before she slowly let me slide
inside her. So deep that the room itself spun around me for
a second.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say someone is developing a
taste for deep, hard sex," I murmured, grabbing her hair
with my free hand and wrapping it around my fist so I could
pull her head back. I felt her hot breath on my other hand
and heard the muffled moan that escaped her.
It was Dea who, with her hands on my hips, dictated
how fast I fucked her, and slowly but surely, her rhythm
became merciless. It didn't take a finger on her clit for her
to chase her orgasm. My cock and the words I occasionally
whispered in her ear seemed enough for the moment.
Again and again, she tensed her pelvic muscles after
noticing how I hissed each time, a curse on her tongue
anew.
"The rest of the party will be exciting, Dea. You'll be
thinking about me every step of the way, and when you face
your father you'll assure him he has nothing to worry
about. What do you think he would think if he knew I was
inside you right now? Or if he knew what his daughter was
into?"
Her fingernails dug into my ass. She squinted in a
wonderfully aroused gesture.
"By the way, it won't stop there tonight. Before you go to
bed tonight, you'll cum on my cock at least twice." As if I
had conjured it, she came at that very second, unable to
direct my hips anymore.
So I took the lead and fucked her through her orgasm
until I came too.
After a few seconds, I took the hand from her mouth and
released the other from her hair. I pulled my pants up and
straightened myself. Then I bent down to pick up her torn
panties, pulled them up over her feet, and tied a small knot
on the torn fabric so the piece continued to serve its
purpose.
Before lifting Amedea from the countertop, I leaned in
for a kiss.
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 16

AMEDEA

A lthough I tried not to constantly think that Enzo

and I had fucked in the fucking kitchen fifteen
minutes ago, the entire carousel of my thoughts
was continually spinning around it.
Heat gathered in my extremities because I couldn't get
over the idea that the others knew exactly what we had
been up to. At the same time, you couldn't tell anything
from either of us. Not everyone who disappeared from a
party for a few minutes had sex. Did they?
When my father came toward us this time, there was no
escape. Enzo was on my left, while Emilio and Flavia had
taken up positions on my right. Dario was also nearby.
It felt like my father was stepping in front of the
triumvirate that consisted of the three de Archard brothers.
"Apparently, I finally got lucky enough to speak with my
daughter," he said once he was face to face with us.
Vincenzo gave a snort, one hand placed loosely on my
lower back. All I could think of was how he had wrapped
my hair around it to get a better grip.
"No one stopped you from taking the twenty steps in our
direction, Taddeo," Emilio kindly pointed out. Only once
had we actively run away from him – and the desire to feel
Vincenzo's hard cock inside me had prevailed. I could
hardly be blamed for that.
 "I still think it's overly pompous to have a party for this
purpose."
"What purpose?" Emilio had taken over the
conversation, and neither Vincenzo nor I had any
objections.
"Proving to me that our widower here is still capable of
using his cock."
Instead of blushing, I felt anger flow through my body.
From the very beginning, that had been his biggest concern
– that this shitty marriage that was supposed to benefit him
wouldn't come to fruition.
The joke was on him, however, because I was probably
the only person who enjoyed the benefits of this
connection.
"A most inappropriate statement, Taddeo," Emilio
replied calmly. Where did this level-headedness come from?
Usually, that was the kind of comment that made the
brothers roll up their sleeves and start a fight. Figuratively
speaking, at least.
"I don't think so. Actually, there's a lot more to say about
that."
"You better watch your tongue if you're attached to it,"
Dario spoke up, his voice was absolutely emotionless. His
posture had changed from casual and relaxed to belligerent
in a split second.
The only one who remained absolutely calm and didn't
let my father's comments drive him crazy was Vincenzo. I
wondered why.
Cautiously, I looked in his direction however, not the
slightest emotion could be read on his face.
"We all know that under other circumstances, you would
go down as a serial killer." My father could dish. But could
he also take it?
Vincenzo took his hand off my back to cross his arms in
front of his chest. "And we all know that our government
doesn't like to see businessmen promoting piracy in the
Mediterranean. So I took the liberty of dropping subtle
hints to some of my contacts."
"It's not too late to pull out of these projects." Emilio
pointed out.
"If I ever hear you threatening the women of our family
again, or I overhear you looking at them askance, I'll be
happy to demonstrate to you in a private, one-time
performance to see just how much of a serial killer I really
am." Dario had taken a step forward to deliver his message
even more clearly.
A thin smile formed on Enzo's lips. "I can only agree
with my brothers. As for your daughter… Dea is a de
Archard now. Everything that belongs to us belongs to her.
The assets, the network, and the families loyal to us. If you
threaten her in the future, it will be an affront to us. If I
hear such disgusting statements from your mouth again,
we will punish it as treason."
Surprised, I looked at Enzo. No one could tell me that
this demonstration had not been planned. The families
present, the three brothers working together. My heart
almost stopped, I was so touched by this gesture. Even if it
was not only for me but also for protecting the family and
the entire empire that Enzo and Emilio had built over the
years. Merda. I had not expected something like this from
Enzo.
Even after the brief conversation earlier, I didn't expect
him to really be interested in me or concerned about what
the tense situation with my dad meant.
My gaze darted in my dad's direction and every last bit
of anger had disappeared from his face. Now he was just
pale because he had become aware of what everything just
said meant for him.
They had seen through him. His schemes had been
uncovered. He did not let it show if he suspected I had
betrayed him.
 Taddeo Santoro had been checkmated and had no option
but to give up. He gave a thin smile, and beads of sweat
formed on his brow. "Congratulations on the wedding."
With these words, he turned and left the party with his
tail between his legs.
I would have loved to burst into cries of triumph if only
because the demonstration of their power had given me
goosebumps.
I turned to hide the grin I couldn't suppress.
The three men also turned their backs on the other
guests, flanked by their wives, the two cousins, and
Carlotta.
It was now also clear to me where this frightening aura
came from, which every family member possessed.
Whenever one of them had attended a social event, this
aura had been present. Untouchable. Powerful.
Since I knew them privately, it was easy for me to ignore
it, but now I knew the origin of this phenomenon. The
power was not a farce. They really possessed it. Emilio only
had to nod his chin in a man's direction, and he would meet
his end sooner than he had suspected.
Enzo must have had effect at some point years ago and
still carried the remnants of it. They were not superhuman
or even immortal and were more than aware of the dangers
in their lives. Yet there was a certain arrogance in their
actions that conveyed just that.
No one could stand in their way without incurring the
family's wrath. People who thought they could threaten
them were proven wrong. Anyone who tried to deceive or
cheat was cut down without a qualm.
I, of all people, was now supposed to be a part of this
family? That sounded a little ridiculous even to my ears,
although you could see from Flavia and Gia how well
outsiders could fit into the family. Even if they hadn't grown
up within the mafia.
 Gia was the best example of this. I even dared to say
that she had blossomed through Dario and was now living
the life destined for her. Flavia had also found her place. I
had known Emilio and Dario for years, had worked with
them on countless occasions, and relied on their protection.
Even with my father, they had proven they were looking
out for me.
I jabbed my fingers against Enzo's in a silent gesture
that called for some restraint. While I was reluctant to
admit it, what had happened was taking a toll the more I
thought about it.
My life had been turned upside down, only to turn
completely one hundred and eighty degrees again in a few
weeks. I never expected to be standing next to Vincenzo
tonight or even to hear him say he needed me in his cranky
way.
His hand closed around mine, and I was almost relieved
when he leaned closer. Some part of me had still clung to
this being one big game, and he was about to open up
about how successfully he had led me around by the nose
over the last few hours.
"I meant what I said, by the way," he whispered in my
ear. "Just because he got what he deserved doesn't mean
I'm going to take the next best opportunity to deport you.
In fact, I'd really like it if you stayed in Tramonti. Assuming
you can put up with a grouchy, scowling guy for a while
longer."
With that, he elicited a laugh, which removed the
tension from my body. "I'll think about it," I replied.
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 17

VINCENZO

D o you think he will back off and let his business go

down the drain?" Dario asked, leaning over the
table to look at Fiero's files in front of us.
Over the last few weeks, we had painstakingly
accumulated a lot of material, to lead to exactly this
moment when we could kick him out the door. Figuratively
speaking. I would have much preferred to put a bullet in
him, of course, but we had unanimously concluded that
would not be a wise decision.
For a change, we had gathered not in Emilio's office but
in Fiero's dining room. Emilio, Dario, I, Fiero, and Natale
leaned bored against the wall. That seemed to be his basic
mood for the evening. He listened and made comments at
the appropriate moments, but otherwise, he seemed quite
unconcerned.
I couldn't blame him. Events like this were just
annoying.
"I think he realizes the gravity of the situation and will
think twice before messing with us," Emilio replied, looking
at Dario seriously.
"Besides, there are witnesses. They may not recognize
details, but when it comes to threats to the family, no one
here can take a joke." At least if you assumed proper
families, not the total losses like Flavia's parents or even
Taddeo himself.
"I'm still impressed with the way you held yourself
together. If he had said something like that about Gia…"
I had no choice but to shrug my shoulders. I had honed
this form of indifference over the years, and outside
Tramonti, I wore it like protective armor. As soon as I went
home and slipped into another role, I discarded it. Together
with restraint, because men like Taddeo did not deserve me
holding back.
Too bad he would never become a candidate for my
manhunt. I would have had fun with that.
"The day will come when we will face each other again,
and it will no longer be a problem to tell him what I think
with my fists. Just because I don't respond immediately
doesn't mean I forget." This was probably difficult to
understand for someone like Dario, who acted rather
impulsively.
"For now, we should limit ourselves to keeping an eye on
him. We can't miss if he's planning something. For the
safety of all of us."
"And also Carlotta doesn't get pissed off again because
she had to sort things out," Dario muttered.
The incident with Gia was still fresh in his mind.
"If you don't mind, I'll go back to the others," Natale
finally said because nothing exciting was sure to happen in
our short meeting. Fiero joined him, and Dario also finally
went back outside.
Emilio and I were left alone. For a while, we looked at
each other in silence. I was well aware that there were
some unsaid things between us. Even though I preferred to
leave them unsaid, I knew it was wrong.
Fortunately, Emilio made a start and thus saved me from
searching for the appropriate words. "This isn't a charade
you're pulling on, is it?"
 I denied it with a curt movement of my head. Dea had
originally wanted exactly that from me. A short theatrical
game in which I turned the old Vince inside out and saved
her ass in the process. "Ironically, she somehow managed
to remind me of the old me. It was easy to withdraw and
live out my days with anger and sadness."
"And now it's not?"
I snorted. "Oh, yes. But it doesn't satisfy me like it did
before."
Emilio raised an eyebrow. I could imagine what was
going on in his head and how he felt about this unexpected
development. Surely just as irritated as I was.
"So you're telling me you woke up this morning and
decided you wanted this new life now?"
I nodded, although that wasn't actually true. Not
entirely, at least. The decision had been long overdue.
Amedea had only given me the reason to make it.
I hardly needed to mention that she had appeared with a
sledgehammer to break through the thick walls. It had
taken a sledgehammer, nasty teasing, and courage and
brashness to finally break me out of my stubbornness.
And Rina. Rina had been the key to all this because
knowing nothing would offend her even in death calmed my
mind, heart, and soul in equal measure.
"When she died, I was also on the verge of leaving. Only
the desire for revenge kept me alive. I wanted her family
dead. Every fucking soul that had anything to do with it. At
some point, no member of the Scuderi family existed. I
could have ended it, but I was sure you guys couldn't get
along without a big brother. I found reasons to hold on to
the anger and grief. Death would have ended the pain, but
that was a mercy I couldn't grant myself."
Emilio stared at me. I didn't remember ever talking so
openly with him about this subject, about Rina.
"Maybe she's just the start of a new life. Maybe she's
just what I need to relearn some basic things right now. But
I guess that's okay."
"Whatever you need to finally come back to us," Emilio
replied with a firm look. "It doesn't change the fact that
Amedea deserves nothing but the best. Do me a favor and
at least try not to hurt her."
I almost rolled my eyes. Nothing was further from my
mind, apart from the occasional rather heated arguments
we had.
"I can assure you that I have no such plans. However,
I'm not planning on filing for divorce either. So… I don't
know. Do what you want with the information. You’ve been
informed. I guess that's all I need to say."
Before the whole conversation turned sentimental, I
sought distance and returned outside to the party. Before
going down the stairs to the terrace, I lingered for a few
minutes at the top, leaning against the railing and watching
Amedea. She sat next to Carlotta by the pool, her feet
dangling in the water, and they were having a lively
conversation.
It seemed like she was having fun. I didn't want to ruin
that moment, even if it meant my brain returned to Rina. I
didn't remember how many parties and other events she
had thrown. During those hours, she had been everywhere
and nowhere, striking up conversations with everyone
present and radiating that incredible warm energy that
made you feel instantly welcome. Everyone had enjoyed
Rina's presence. Enjoyed talking with her. During those
hours, I had never minded sharing her with others because
at the end of the day all her attention was on me when she
told me in great detail about the news she had heard.
Amedea also attracted attention, but for entirely
different reasons. And that was fine. That was good. More
than that, it made me realize how special she was.
Fiero snapped me out of my rather long train of thought
by leaning next to me on the railing. "I don't have to tell
you that you made the right decision."
 "You were very clear in your choice of words," I replied.
I wanted to beat myself up for sharing all the details of
Amedea's and my complicated relationship with him. But,
in the end, he had shaken me at the right moment and
made me admit things instead of denying them to myself
and everyone else.
"I took the liberty of having a brief conversation with her
on the drive. Just in case you were wondering why she
didn't give you hell in light of the sudden change of heart."
I laughed. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that part is still
coming."
Fiero glanced toward the pool. "Then I certainly don't
want to be in your shoes."
"Have you ever thought about a career as a
psychologist?"
"I don't have the right conversational skills for that.
Besides, I would need one myself, so that's rather difficult. I
guess I'll just leave it at giving you therapy." Fiero gave me
a meaningful look.
"I can't wait," I murmured and finally tore myself away
from the railing to return to the terrace. My path led me
purposefully toward the pool, where I sat on one of the sun
loungers close to Carlotta and Amedea.
I did not interrupt their conversation but was content to
listen to the two of them. As difficult as my sister could be
at times, in the crucial moments, she somehow always
managed to pull herself together and be a warm
personality.
She didn't welcome anyone with open arms, but she got
used to every new family member that anyone
unexpectedly brought along.
Sometimes I wondered if she would actually take the
step of revealing her identity to all of the mafia or if she
would leave it and enjoy the anonymity and freedom that
came with it. She paid a high price, but maybe it was worth
what she got in return.
 "Batuffolo," she scolded, bringing me back to reality.
"You could at least make yourself useful and get me
something to eat. And something that doesn't contain
disgusting non-Italian alcohol."
Now her behavior seemed much more familiar. I raised
an eyebrow. "Why don't you find someone else to do it?"
"Because you're sitting right next to me, we have a
certain relationship… and I don't trust anyone outside the
family with my food."
Amused, I responded to how she wanted to make an
argument that I was her brother without actually saying it.
"You could send Natale. Or pay the kitchen a visit. I'm
sure Fiero won't tear your head off if you help yourself."
Carlotta rolled her eyes, looking at Amedea significantly.
"You see. He never does what I ask but expects you to do
everything for him.”
I grinned. "We both know that's not true."
"We also both know how bad Emilio is at planning
parties. He forgot the catering, and poor Fiero gets
criticism for it." Of course, she wasn't really sorry it was
just a way of getting me to fulfill her wishes.
"Knowing you, you're in the mood for some damn
specific dish or restaurant. On the other end of Naples."
Carlotta blinked in my direction. So I was right. "If I had
to guess, this time it's the burgers from this little place that
no one else knows about."
The radiance on her face proved that I was right.
Sighing, I rose and reached out my hand to her.
Skeptically she looked at me. "What?"
"You come with me," I said, holding out my other hand to
Dea.
Unlike my sister, she grabbed it without comment and
let me help her to her feet. A few seconds later, Carlotta let
me help her up as well.
"You're here with the Sián, aren't you?"
 Confirming, I nodded, so she extended her other hand in
Natale's direction, who tossed her the keys to his car
without comment. She caught them in mid-air.
Seeing that she had everyone wrapped around her
finger was always reassuring.
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 18

AMEDEA

I could hardly believe it, but Enzo had left me alone in

the villa for the first time since I had moved here. No
babysitter to watch over me and keep me company. It
still amazed me how quickly he had become a different
man. At least he was well on his way because there was no
denying that he was struggling with his old behavior
patterns.
Nevertheless, there was a slight difference because
since the day of the party our quarreling had reached a
new level. They almost always ended in a legendary way.
Which, admittedly, was a lot more pleasant than not
seeing him for half an eternity or looking at his scowl,
which told me quite clearly what he thought of my latest
attitude.
I took advantage of the alone time to do what I had been
planning for some time: to take a quiet look around the
house. I could have done that the last few weeks, but as
long as he was present, it certainly didn't go down too well
if I took a closer look at his office or the other rooms he
claimed for himself.
Well aware that he could later see what I had been up to
on the surveillance tapes, I headed straight for the office
where he spent so much time.
 Fiero and he had managed to limit the damage, but the
remnants of his tantrum were still clearly visible. The
windows had been taped up with cardboard, the TV was
unusable, and his desk had been given a new top and a
kitchen chair.
It would probably be some time before everything was
back to its original condition because Enzo refused to have
workman come fix the windows. He had ordered a new TV,
but the delivery driver had refused to bring it here, so Enzo
had to drive to the post office and pick up the huge piece
himself. It wouldn't fit in his Lamborghini, though, so he
had to wait until his siblings took pity on him.
With my arms folded, I stood in the middle of the room
and spun once in a circle. I didn't plan on touching or
messing anything up. Getting an unvarnished glimpse into
Enzo's personality was interesting without him standing by
and denying half of it.
He had a passion for video games – and for work,
although he wasn't working for Emilio or the Mafia
anymore.
Other than that, I guess he was a born minimalist
because I didn't find one memento. No photos. Nothing.
That was so boring because if he had visited me at any time
in the little house on the coast, he would have known
exactly who he was dealing with five minutes after
entering.
A little disappointed because I had not found anything
new, I pushed open the adjacent door to his bedroom and
was amazed. The floor was unique, as was the paneling on
the walls. The furnishings might as well have come straight
from a furniture store. Not a single speck of dust had
settled on the dark wood.
On one wall, bookshelves stretched up to the ceiling,
filled with treasures in various languages. It must have cost
a fortune to custom fit the shelves to the wall. Not to
mention that the area in front of them was not made of the
dark tiles usually laid in a bedroom but were glass.
Enzo had a damn wine cellar built into the floor, so you
were practically standing on the bottles while you marveled
at the books on the shelf. And all that was separated by a
slightly thicker glass plate.
I spotted plants on a side table near the huge windows.
There was plenty in the rest of the room, too. Big ones,
small ones, something fancy.
No wonder he neglected the rest of the house so much
when he lived here in pure luxury. Somehow I had imagined
that his bedroom was like that of a castle lord in medieval
times. Dusty, old, run-down. With a few relics from better
times and dark, heavy fabrics that blocked out the sunlight.
Wow, no prejudice at all, Dea, I thought and couldn't
help laughing. At the same time, I wondered if we would
ever manage to have sex in a proper bed. The cabin, Fiero's
kitchen, the pool, the car, the damn floor in the living
room… did he have an aversion to lying comfortably?
Still amused, I walked toward the bed, flipped back the
covers, and threw myself onto the mattress for a test. It
was springy. I bet the bastard was sleeping on a cloud.
Maybe I should wait for him right here? Read him the riot
act for continuing to leave me the other half of the house,
which didn't even have half of what was available to him
here.
I wouldn't have been surprised to find a whirlpool in the
adjoining bathroom. It had a huge rainforest shower, at
least. Another thing – my shower head barely built up
enough water pressure to wash my hair properly and the
water jets massaged him from three directions.
Shaking my head, I decided to let it go before
discovering anything more he was keeping from me.
On my way out, I noticed a small bowl with nothing in it
but two keys.
 Because I was already in a fix, I took it and thought
about where these keys would take me. To the predators'
enclosure? No. He had them on the same ring as his car
keys. The attic? As far as I knew, it didn't exist.
But the cellar. He had warned me urgently about it.
Danger of collapse. But why hadn't he thrown the keys into
the nearest pond and forgotten they existed?
Perhaps they also belonged to doors that were not in
this house. Who could say for sure which buildings
Vincenzo de Archard had access to? I wouldn't have been
surprised to find master keys for every house in southern
Italy.
I decided that as long as I was just worrying about it and
not actually testing it out, I wouldn't find out.
So my path led me to the ominous cellar door, which –
oh wonder – popped open with one of the keys without a
hitch. I pushed it open, only to find myself standing in front
of a staircase that led steeply downward. The steps didn't
look rotten, nor did the walls look in danger of collapse. On
the contrary, they were freshly plastered. I didn't see a
single cobweb on the wooden beams above my head as I
descended the stairs.
Danger my ass.
Irritated, I paused when I heard a strange noise. As if
someone was hitting something… or kicking?
Fearing Vincenzo might return at any moment, I
sprinted down the remaining stairs, only to stop abruptly
when I recognized dungeons to the right and left of the
narrow hallway that led to another door.
"What the hell." I muttered, wrinkling my nose at the
beastly stench that suddenly hit me.
What was this? A remnant from the old days? I almost
didn't believe it, because everything looked too new. Too
modern.
The muffled sound continued. Although I was shivering
and wrapped my arms protectively around my upper body, I
took a few more steps to the next door.
It was thick. Made of metal. And again, the key fit
perfectly. The door didn't even squeak when I pushed
against it.
Instead, a surprised gasp escaped me as the bestial
stench of feces and death hit me. My stomach turned, and
heat shot through my body.
I looked for support on the wall, tried to dampen my
nervousness, and thought more clearly. With trembling
fingers, I groped for the light switch, and as soon as the
bulb came to life, my breath finally caught.
I grimaced in disgust. In the middle of the room lay a… a
man – at a guess – whose hands were tied behind his back.
He repeatedly pushed his foot against a metal side table
with slow movements.
I couldn't bring myself to take a step closer. Instead, I
tried to block out the rasping sound of his breathing and
the fact that his eyes were uselessly bulging out of their
sockets. His entire face was muddy.
Blood, bones, muscle tissue, scraps of skin. I saw it all.
How was he even still alive?
Even now, when I finally realized that this person was
still alive, I was not overcome by the need to call 911.
Mafia.
No paramedics.
Only torture, violence, and death.
Whoever he was, he was down here for a reason. Was it
the same reason Enzo had told me there was danger to life
down here?
I stumbled back a step.
"Help me," the misshapen guy rasped, extending a hand
in my direction.
I would have liked to claim that it softened my heart, but
when a sight like this presented itself, there was no help. A
merciless death, perhaps. But even that… one did not
interfere with the torment that another brought to a man
like this one.
I wouldn't interfere if Enzo was torturing. Killing.
Mercilessly and unscrupulously, let a man suffer and rot
alive.
Still, I wondered what would kill him first. Enzo? His
physical condition? The maggots and beetles that would
soon eat their way through his body?
"Merda," I muttered, my stomach still not entirely under
control. It disgusted me. But it did not traumatize me.
"You shouldn't be down here."
I jerked my head around, discovering Vincenzo in the
middle of the stairs, looking at me grimly.
"Why is he down here?" I asked, pointing in the direction
of the half-dead man. The tremble in my voice was barely
noticeable. I blamed it on the stench. Decay was not a
lovely scent.
Vincenzo came down the last steps and crossed the
narrow corridor until he was next to me. "Because he
deserves it," was his curt reply.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's my secret."
"Your secret is keeping people in a dungeon and letting
them die a cruel death?"
His gaze shot to me. I expected anger, but he only tilted
his head slightly. "Not quite. If you come upstairs with me,
I'll explain."
"Why are you even here?"
He snorted. "Because a silent alarm is triggered as soon
as the door is opened. And…" He interrupted himself. "For
a moment, I thought he was going to get you."
So this man was dangerous.
I would have liked to take a deep breath, but the stench
prevented that. I took Enzo's hand, which he casually held
out to me after he had closed the door behind us.
 Without comment, I followed him upstairs, handed him
the key, and watched as he locked this door. Only then did
he lead me outside into the fresh air.
For a brief moment, I closed my eyes, took a deep
breath, and enjoyed that it only smelled like home out here.
Not of death.
"So, will you explain?" I finally asked when he remained
silent.
"Nobody knows about it except Fiero," he countered.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I'd like to know that I'm in a
house with some guys rotting in the cellar."
"That man down there has committed a series of terrible
crimes. The victims were children and women, so I took
him out of circulation after the police failed to do so."
"And now you're locking him away in some twisted
vigilante fashion?"
Vincenzo snorted after he sat down. "No, Dea. I kidnap
them, bring them here, and then hunt them down like the
animals they are. Then they die and become snacks for
Gattina and the others. I have been doing this not just since
yesterday but for years. Sometimes relatives of the victims
come here and hunt them. It's not vigilante justice. It's
justice in a shitty system that always seems to protect
assholes like him."
I opened my mouth but immediately closed it again. That
was too much information to process. I would have loved to
laugh and tell him that he had just told me a tall tale. But I
knew better.
Enzo's solemn expression and lack of a smile said
everything I needed to know.
"Emilio doesn't know about this?"
"He doesn't have a clue."
"Why… why are you doing this?"
"Do you think it's cruel? Reprehensible? Is this the
moment you tell me you can no longer live here? Or can't
stand to be near me anymore because of the blood on my
hands?"
I stared at him, completely perplexed by what he'd said.
Nervously, I laughed. "I'm just trying to figure it out, Enzo.
I'm not going anywhere."
He lowered his eyes to his shoes and seemed to struggle
to formulate an answer to my question. "Rina's family was
to blame for her death. They did it, and afterward, they fled
like cowardly dogs. But they couldn't hide, not from me. I
tracked them down and hunted them down. Hounded.
Eventually, they could take no more and come to me,
almost willing to die. The world is full of people like the
Scuderis. And I make sure they get what they deserve."
I could not yet really grasp the scope of the whole
operation, but I could understand how important it was to
Vincenzo. It had kept him alive to pursue this task he had
set for himself.
Before I did anything wrong, I approached him and
squatted down so we were at eye level. "I want to see it.
See this man run for his life and not stand a chance. And
when he stops breathing, I'll find the next pig for you."
Shaking his head, he rebuffed. "This is not a matter you
should be involved in, raggio di sole."
"Why?" I crossed my arms.
"It would dull you and drag you into a swamp I'd rather
not see you in."
"I am a grown woman, Enzo. And very capable of
deciding for myself what and who corrupts me."
He raised an eyebrow. "To corrupt you would be a sin."
"You don't believe in God."
"But I do about protecting a woman like you."
Now he was pulling on the fragile strings that led
directly to my heart. "You do, don't you? Protect me."
"I can't do that again, you know." The raw emotion in his
voice suddenly made it hard for me to breathe.
 Out of reflex, I reached for his hand."They won't dare lay
a hand on me. Not after the party. Not after they know
what awaits them if they incur your wrath."
No one was safe. No one was immortal. But the de
Archards' arrogance about killing suited me and was
precisely what Enzo needed.
"We'll do it on your terms. I'll stay out of it. Just get you
the information you need. It doesn't matter. I want to be a
part of it, not pretend it's none of my business."
"It's none of your business."
"I live here. And you said that you'd like me to continue
being around you. Give me a damn chance to be a part of
your life somehow, Enzo."
All this time, I had wondered if he just sat in his office
and spent his days playing online games, but now it was
clear why he was withdrawn. He had probably paused his
schemes once we were married. Unknowingly, then, I had
kept him from what filled him. What made him content.
"You could have told me right after the wedding, you
know? I would have congratulated you and wished you
success. I don't care how brutal you are with these people.
I couldn't care less if you rip their guts out or suffocate
them. I simply don't care. I've seen what Emilio and Dario
sometimes leave behind, and I know what my father has
already done. Maybe I look squeamish, but I'm not."
"You witnessed all that and still didn't stop laughing?"
Irritated, I looked at him. "Why should I? The world is a
better place without assholes and idiots. That kind of thing
doesn't keep me up at night. Empathy is not something you
give unconditionally to everyone."
"I'm worried about your mental health," Vincenzo
muttered, narrowing his eyes as he turned his head in my
direction.
I shrugged my shoulders. "You're the one with the tiger
in the garden. And the dungeon. And the manhunts."
"Well, I guess we're all not so normal."
 "By our standards, I'm afraid so." It was kind of ironic to
talk about circumstances. The Mafia was an institution with
its own rules. In the ordinary world, we would all have been
perfect candidates for prison or a closed psychiatric ward.
So it was just the standard that was part of our lives.
OceanofPDF.com
 19

VINCENZO

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Dea in the

kitchen the following morning, even though I had
specifically warned her not to enter it until I had
ensured the guy's remains were gone.
Kitchens were best suited for the temporary storage and
further processing of corpses. At least if it didn't disgust
you that you also prepared your food on the same surfaces.
Hygiene was everything.
But instead of a panicked Dea, I found her completely
calm and in high spirits. She hadn't touched the guy, but
she had found the cupboard where I kept the butcher's
equipment needed to process dead meat into mouth-
watering morsels. That in and of itself was nothing unusual,
after all, I was responsible for three large cats, but with the
correct information, it took on a completely different
meaning.
She was even wearing an apron. Fuck.
Hannibal Lecter would not have been more proud at this
point.
"You didn't want to wait for me?" I asked as entered the
room. She had opened the windows and set up a damn
fragrance lamp, so the smell was somewhat drowned out.
"I didn't want to your three lovely pets to get peeved
waiting for their breakfast," she replied, turning in my
direction.
She already had the bone saw, the hatchet, and the
plastic tubs ready and placed.
Usually, I took care of that part on my own, spending the
early hours of the morning trying to make all clues about
what had happened during the night disappear.
We were probably at the end of it now. Also with the fact
that, except Fiero and me, no one knew about the hunts. I
didn't doubt her ability to keep our secret, but I did
question my mental strength to see her as a permanent
part of it.
It was dangerous. Bloody. Not child's play.
I remembered last night and how confidently she had
performed not only with the hunt in and for itself but also
dealing with the weapons.
Amedea had something in her that I had not yet been
able to grasp, but one thing was sure under her pretty
appearance rested something much darker. Something that
could easily take on the blackness of my own soul.
"Where do you get all this aggression from?" I asked
casually and picked up the axe. Body parts were easier to
cut through with an axe than a saw. Under the table was a
plastic sheet that would catch all that was the unsightly
side effects of this work.
"You mean the aggression that led to the guy dying?"
Amused, I snorted. "That's the one."
"I just think of all the cruel, nasty, hurtful things my
father has said to me throughout my life, and I can access
that aggression."
That made sense. And yet it was kind of sad because, at
the same time, it meant that her father's statements had
taken hold enough to weigh on her permanently if she
would only let them.
Silently, I set to work, always aware that Amedea was
standing not ten feet away, watching me intently at every
step of the process.
 Now that was a topic for a therapy session with Fiero.
Why did I like it so much that she kept me company during
this ugly work? And more importantly, why did I not want
her to be part of the whole affair but found it insanely
attractive to watch her trudge through the woods chasing
the asshole like she was on the trail of some cute bambi?
These somewhat abnormal thoughts had to come from
somewhere. Was it because of the family I had grown up
in? Or the several years I had already spent doing just that?
Alone, like a man-hating hermit? Or did it simply have to do
with the fact that it was Amedea? Was she alone the reason
for these thoughts and not my sick psyche?
My ambivalence occupied me for quite a while because I
definitely did not want her to continue to be involved. A
short excursion in was enough after all. Or was it?
However, I could hardly wait to take her along next time
and receive the first proposal from her.
My research had been relatively basic so far. Local
newspapers, anonymous tips. She would take it to a new
level and make sure we had eyes and ears all over Naples.
If only I let her. I wasn't quite sure if the benefits
outweighed the costs.
What was the price she'd pay? I had been getting along
splendidly without her. In principle, it didn't need an
upgrade. No extra person to interfere. Fiero and I had
everything well in hand. In every respect.
So why risk waking up one morning and knowing that
the same thing had happened to her as had happened to
Rina? Or something similar, for that matter. In a terribly
cruel and unfair way, the fear of losing family members was
overwhelming, not just since Amedea had come into my
life. Her attempts to interfere in everything did not
necessarily make it better, but it certainly was not worse
than before.
At least, that's what I wanted to believe. Otherwise, it
would have signaled that I attached more importance to
this woman than I currently did.
A casual affair within the marriage with each other. Who
had not already experienced it?
Dissatisfied with my thought process, my attention
shifted back to reality and to Amedea, who was still
watching intently and had not made any attempt to
interfere.
Something told me she was internalizing the processes
and remembering exactly what I was doing, and how I did
it. With which tool, how much force it took, and how I
processed the different parts into smaller ones.
Morsels of meat, bones with minimal remains, and
organs. I filled three plastic tubs.
I covered the bones with plastic wrap as they were
going to the pigs at noon today, and I put the rest on the
countertop.
It took a few minutes before it was no longer apparent
what I had just done. Only when I stepped away from the
sink was everything ready for feeding the predators.

"You don't feed by hand?" Amedea asked, one of the tubs

tucked under her arm.
I looked at her in disbelief. I wasn't tired of life after all!
"I like to leave it at strokes outside meal times," I muttered
and put my tub down right in front of the fence.
It took only a few seconds for Gattina to appear, rubbing
herself along the metal grate, accompanied by a yawn and
a sound that might as well have come from a house cat.
I grabbed a piece of meat and threw it over the fence.
Gattina caught it in mid air.
 " I can't get my head around the fact that you own these
animals," Amedea said, shaking her head.
"Really? That's what's got you on the edge of your seat?"
"Actually, seeing a tiger ten feet away surprises me. The
way she's gnawing on a piece of meat that I know exactly
where it came from. I wonder if she can taste what kind of
asshole she's eating."
"It suits me if she has a soft spot for terrible people.
Anything else would be a diet plan I couldn't quite
support," I muttered, amused that we were even talking
about it.
After tossing a few more morsels and some of the organs
over the fence, I nodded in the direction where we would
continue our feeding. I kept the enclosures separate, not
without reason. After all, we were talking about three
abused predators here, which were hardly predictable in
their behaviors.
Disputes between a tiger and a mountain lion quickly
ended fatally, and that was not something I wanted to
witness any time soon.
Because Amedea had not yet seen the other two
animals, I took the time to introduce them to her.
However, Gattina was still the most impressive
appearance. No wonder, with her sheer size and stunning
coat pattern.
"Do you feed them that amount every day?" Dea asked
when we were on the way back to the house.
"About. However, I buy a lot of animal meat in addition.
Believe it or not, I don't cut a person into pieces daily."
"You don't?"
"It's very time-consuming. Besides, at some point, the
pigs can no longer keep up with the bones." Bones were the
only thing that could have led to the discovery of my
schemes. A risk that I didn't necessarily want to take, given
today's technology and the methods that criminal
investigators had at their disposal.
 Amedea laughed. "I can't believe we're talking about
this like it's natural and normal."
I shrugged. For me, it had become a part of my life, just
as it was for Fiero. We didn't regret any of it, not even that
we had ended countless lives. Instead, I kept in mind how
many people had been saved. How many people had
escaped to a better life just because that one lousy part
that had always haunted you no longer existed?
"You get used to it."
OceanofPDF.com
 20

AMEDEA

A s I made out the hut from a few hundred yards

away at the end of the vineyard, memories of the
last visit came flooding back, especially of how I
had woken up alone and realized with a bitter taste in my
mouth that Enzo had left me alone.
For that, I could still at least poke him in the ribs today,
even though it had already been a few weeks.
I looked at him skeptically from the side. Enzo had again
chosen the best time for a climb – in the blazing midday
sun, equipped only with a small bag containing a water
bottle and a bag with a small snack.
Far too little, therefore, to get full at all.
"Will you leave me alone this time, too?" I asked
provocatively, even though I was a little out of breath.
He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his
mouth. He wouldn't let me see it. "If you keep acting sassy,
not only that."
"Oh yeah, what other nasty torture are you going to go
through?"
"Torture is exactly the right word," he muttered
thoughtfully. "I could tie you up with ropes, let you stagnate
for a few hours, and then come back. I bet you'd be tame as
a bunny."
"Or bite like a piranha," I returned with a growl.
 At some point, this man would cost me my last nerve.
The only question was how quickly it would come to that
and how many nerves I had cost him.
I was happy to spend a relaxing afternoon in a place like
this, but I was distraught as I was sure he had some
diabolical plan that would get me into trouble.
At least that’s what I’d expect of him, thinking about
everything we had done in the past few days. I could
justifiably claim that from now on, I would not only be
breaking laws on the net but also in reality. There must
have been at least a dozen since we had started tailing the
guy who had raped four women and murdered twice as
many in the last twelve months.
The police had not even come close to catching him;
with our combined efforts and the right contacts, it took us
just five days to find out where he lived, where he worked,
and what his social security number was.
I would have liked to recap our plan as far as his
kidnapping was concerned, but Enzo had forbidden any
work talk today and I tried to stick to it. Even though it was
difficult. I just couldn't understand how he could do
anything other than tail this guy – now that we were on his
trail.
How long had it taken him to train this ability? Just
switch off. Forget that there was a rapist and murderer at
large. In principle, it was easy because if you didn't know
about it, it still didn't change the fact that he existed. You
just didn't have a clue.
"I know you're thinking about that guy, and I don't like
it," Vincenzo promptly spoke up, interrupting my lovely
musings.
I grumbled. "It's not like you're particularly talkative."
"Because we're climbing a damn hill!" he replied with a
snort.
It was pure satisfaction seeing him climb today. That
meant I wasn't the only one suffering.
 Grinning, I smirked. "Is someone getting old?"
Vincenzo shot me a bitter look that made me laugh. I
hadn't even realized until recently that he was serious
about our age difference.
I didn't care about it, but it seemed to have cost him a
thought or two.
"We seem to be skating on thin ice again today," he
replied, quickening his pace.
"What do you actually have to prove?" I shouted after
him but, of course, received no answer.
I let him take the lead, I slowed down a bit, and had no
problem with the fact that I arrived at the hut twenty
minutes after him.
He had already ripped open the door and window, put a
bottle of wine on the table, and two matching glasses. Half
of the snack was gone, so I hurried to devour the rest of the
focaccia before he reappeared and claimed the rest for
himself.
The sun continued to beat down on the terrace with full
force, which meant that it was not a good idea to drink
more than one glass of wine. Otherwise, it would probably
just go to my head. Not to mention it would go to Vincenzos
head too.
He may own a fair few bottles, but he wasn't a big
drinker either. The result of our first drink together spoke
volumes.
It took a few minutes for Vincenzo to join me, and
because he put away his phone before sitting down, I knew
he was probably on the phone with one of his brothers.
"Was there another important briefing?" I asked, while
wiping my greasy fingers on my top.
"He wanted to know if we were still alive. Sometimes he
has these weird episodes where he gets worried if you
haven't contacted him in a while."
By him, he probably meant Emilio – and I knew this
characteristic from him as well. When I had lived in the
cottage, he had called every few days to ask if everything
was all right.
"I always thought that was very thoughtful of him," I
replied.
Vincenzo was living alone in the middle of nowhere all
this time. If something had happened to him, how else
would Emilio have known about it?
"As we all know, some things are debatable."
"That's right," I replied.
"So, why do you wear the ring some days but not
others?"
Perplexed, I opened my mouth but closed it again and
laughed instead. "That was an insanely clever segue for
once."
Shaking my head, I gave him an inquiring look. Was he
watching? Did it bother him? I didn't quite understand the
reason for the question.
Sighing, I stretched my legs and looked at the blue sky
for a while. "I honestly don't know how to answer that," I
finally said.
There was no clear answer to this.
"The ring is big. And heavy. Very impractical for
everyday life. And if I wear it, it's probably because I feel
like it at the time." After all, it wasn't as if the ring made
me feel more connected to him. Just as I didn’t feel any sort
of duty towards him.
In the end, it had only been a marriage of convenience,
which in retrospect, had brought few advantages.
Vincenzo raised his left hand to show that he wore his
ring. He wore it above his first wedding ring which had
probably fused to his skin.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I asked, pushing my
chin forward a little.
"Nothing," he replied, shrugging. "But I'd like to tell you
something about the ring."
"I thought it was some ring Carlotta picked out?"
 "Not quite. You could say that was my only contribution
to the entire wedding."
Surprising. I had assumed he had handed everything
over to his sister and had just shown up to attend the
ceremony.
"I feel a certain curiosity about the story behind it," I
said, my gaze fixed intently on him. "Why choose such a
large stone? Why a sapphire?"
"It's a family heirloom if you will. The color blue and the
sapphire are long-forgotten symbols of the family.
Sometime hundreds of years ago, there was a coat of arms
and all that stuff that you just had back then as a wealthy
family."
So the de Archards had already been rich in earlier
generations. Old money, an empire, a family dynasty. What
other exciting things were there in the life of the entire
clan?
"That doesn't make any sense." I would have understood
if he had put the ring on Rina's finger. If he had passed it
on to his sister or brothers instead of giving it to me. Me, of
all people, when it had been clear from the beginning that
the marriage was only for appearances and had no
fundamental basis.
Vincenzo shrugged. "It doesn't. But it was a symbol. A
sign. I don't think I'll get married a third time, and it would
be a shame for the jewel."
"Does it matter to you?"
"My great-grandfather knew an up-and-coming jeweler
in New York back in the twenties. He had it made for his
wife, and later it went to my grandfather, but not to my
father. On the wedding day, everyone knew he would be
faithful only as long as it took to bring a first heir into the
world."
"That would be you."
"Right. It's a miracle it was still enough for the others."
"And your parents are still together?"
 "Divorces are a rather difficult matter in our family, after
all."
"I see. What about children born out of wedlock?"
"If there are any, they are not known to me, and they
have no rights, nor do they enjoy any benefits. I could also
imagine that my father had them killed when he found out
about them."
"Lovely man," I murmured. "And your grandfather gave
you the ring?"
"It was part of his estate. He didn't die until a few years
after Rina, so I'm saying that I don't plan to start anything
with another woman. Even if at some point you decide to
choose a life outside of Tramonti. I'll just go back to what
has worked for me over the years."
Amused, I looked at him. He was so different from his
brothers. I had heard about Emilio's escapades and Dario's
countless one-night stands. Vincenzo kept a low profile and
then said things like that.
Unbelievable.
"That would make me look pretty stupid if I started
something with another guy," I stated before the penny
finally dropped. "Wait a minute. That's some twisted way of
telling me this will be something exclusive!" I jumped up
indignantly.
Vincenzo shrugged.
"I can't believe you can't just say that normally! By all
the gods, what did you think I was thinking?"
"I don't know. We never talked about it."
"Which was mostly because you set clear boundaries
from the beginning."
"Which you crossed several times just like that," he
calmly stated.
"I don't think you can blame me for that yet." At least
not after he changed his attitude in a pleasantly surprising
direction, which was also noticed by his siblings and
welcomed by everyone.
 "As you hear, I can do it very well."
I bumped against him with my shoe. He still wanted to
provoke me, didn't he? Bring me a little out of the concept
and thus distracted from the fact that he was worried about
whether I was sleeping with another man on the side.
As if I were so tired of life and that too in more than one.
"Sometimes you're a really nasty bastard, do you know
that? You sit there, spouting statements like that, and
meanwhile, you're also deeply relaxed."
"How else am I supposed to be? Short-tempered? A little
choleric?"
"I actually got used to that, yes," I replied, suppressing a
grin.
It was so lovely to argue with him. I knew exactly which
buttons to push to elicit a specific reaction. On clue it didn't
surprise me that he jumped up and stood before me.
He liked to take advantage of his height because when
he stood right in front of me, I had to look up to read the
reactions on his face.
With my arms crossed, I looked up at him, a grin playing
around my lips because I knew exactly what I would say
next and already had an idea of how he would react.
"You know, you could have just said it. You could have
said, 'Amedea, I expect a certain loyalty between us.' It's
not that hard." I just couldn't let go of teasing him about it.
Vincenzo always knew precisely what he wanted and how
to get it, too. So what was so hard about taking it from me
as well?
I was more than willing to give it to him.
"Because I'm not the man you want. But you are the
woman I need," he growled. Whatever that meant, I didn't
get around to exploring it further.
He grabbed my waist and leaned over me for a quick,
hard kiss. Vincenzo never seemed to have the time to really
savor this first encounter. Instead, he let go of me far too
quickly, turned me around, and then pushed me toward the
chair.
"Ever had an orgasm with a view like this?" he asked in
a raspy voice.
Nervousness shot through my body. "No," I answered,
laughing, unsure what was going through his mind now.
"Then let's change that," he said before sliding his lips
over my neck until he reached my collarbone. His hands
wandered over my body, and the heat I had felt before
turned into a fiery inferno. One that he was to blame for.
With a deft movement, he pulled my top over my head,
let it fall to the floor, and then, after a brief appreciative
glance at my almost naked torso, was immediately back to
touching me.
His warm, rough hands slid over the fabric of my bra, I
automatically stretched toward him. I wanted nothing more
than for him to bend down and use his tongue to tease my
nipples until I forgot the surroundings and let go.
However, because Enzo had a slightly sadistic streak, he
took an infinite amount of time exploring the rest of my
upper body until I was almost bursting with desire. Every
touch, no matter how gentle, turned into painful torture.
And he liked it. I squirmed, sought a hold on him, and met
his every movement, yet he never did what I wanted.
When he finally did unhook my bra and let it slide to the
floor, I let out a relieved sigh, one of my hands already
buried in his dark hair. Every flick of his tongue, every
suck, every scrape of his teeth shot right between my legs,
even though he was preoccupied with nothing but my
breasts.
And he knew it, too, so he took advantage of it until I
was sweltering from it alone and about to come. He made
my pants disappear.
Probably a short touch of his tongue on my clit was
enough to make me explode, but he didn't begrudge me
that.
 Instead, he pushed me onto the chair, got on his knees in
front of me, and kissed his way from my knees to my inner
thighs. Gently and light as a feather, goosebumps shot
down my body. At the same time, a pleasant shiver ran
down my back.
I felt how wet I was. How much I wanted him. And yet
he kept me waiting, torturing me with his hot breath
through the fabric of my panties.
An invisible touch made me throw my head back
because I no longer knew how to deal with the pressure
building up inside me since his lips had first touched mine.
I had a curse on my lips and almost got rid of it, but
Enzo bit the middle of my thigh, making me howl briefly in
pain.
Sometimes I wondered if it didn't bother him when
someone else noticed the marks he left behind. Once I had
asked him about it, at which point he had smiled
condescendingly. "Why would I care?" had been his answer
…
I tightened my grip on his hair when I unexpectedly felt
his tongue slide over the hem of my panties. So close, and
yet so damn far.
An impatient noise escaped me, coupled with the
pleading undertone he had trained me to use far too easily
because he was a master of torture.
He enjoyed it when my legs shook uncontrollably and I
could no longer formulate a clear sentence. And I enjoyed
seeing how he slowly came out of himself and showed me
sides of himself that I had never expected.
He turned to my belly – and this was almost worth a
shout of jubilation – he finally pulled down my panties and
slid his lips down my mons veneris, along the side of my
groin, and up to my outer labia.
Enzo's tongue shot out, touched and explored me. On
both sides, just not where I really needed him.
 I closed my eyes, my head resting on the back of my
chair. Beautiful view? The only thing I could focus on was
Enzo's head between my legs, his fucking tongue on my
pussy, driving me even more crazy with gentle touches.
He knew where I wanted him and still he focused on
everything else except that little spot where I needed him
so desperately. My breathing had quickened, and I barely
managed to sit still. My hips kept jerking at him
demandingly, only for him to ignore it and close his hands
tightly around my thighs to hold them still.
With every kiss and tongue flick, it was harder for me to
remember even the simplest things. My name? I didn't
need it as long as I stayed on this glorious but, at the same
time, painful high full of lust, desire, and passion.
He savored every damn inch before finally devoting
himself to my clit. With a simple movement, he sucked on
it, provided negative pressure, and then pushed against it
repeatedly in a fast rhythm. I would have loved to pull out
his hair so tightly I held on to his head.
My body was on fire, the knot in my abdomen
threatening to come loose at any moment.
Somehow I managed to lift my head and open my eyes. I
found his gaze fixed directly on my face. Saw how much my
physical reaction pleased him.
A soft laugh escaped his throat, vibrating through my
body and making me gasp for air. Finally, he decided to
drive me insane by pushing two fingers inside and sliding
them repeatedly over the G spot inside me.
I saw stars, my body failed entirely, and when I exploded
on his tongue, I couldn't help but scream out my pleasure. I
moaned his name, thighs tight around his head so that he
had to let me ride out every single wave of my orgasm.
When the tension in my body subsided, I released him,
pulled him up to me, and kissed him. I tasted myself on
Enzo's tongue but this was not the end.
OceanofPDF.com
 21

VINCENZO

I t was easy to spend time with Amedea, primarily about

the physical aspect. It meant very little talking, but a
lot of fun. Something I had hardly allowed myself in
recent years.
However, I found it increasingly difficult to disregard
certain aspects of our interpersonal relationships. I became
careless about keeping her at a distance. After we met in
an explosive mix, I forgot to look the other way. I wondered
what she was up to when she wasn't in my immediate
vicinity.
I could certainly have continued this endlessly, but in the
end, the result would probably always remain the same. I
didn't like what was happening. No matter how often I
thought about Rina's appearance and what she had said to
me. It also didn't matter that Dea was trying hard not to
offend me accidentally and had even been very successful
with that so far.
I just couldn't help but think about what it all meant and
what direction it was leading and how little I was
comfortable with that.
Why did I have to jump right in when it was enough to
dip a toe?
I pondered this for quite a while, leaning against the
sideboard in the kitchen with my arms folded, ignoring the
fact that we had taken apart a corpse here not so long ago.
Another thing like that she had caught me red-handed
with. Instead of being disgusted or backing down, she had
gone through with it and had been involved in the process
until the end.
After she had asked me to be present at one of the
hunts, I almost counted on her backing out at the very last
second because it was just too much for her. Well, she had
proven impressively that she had a strong stomach and
knew exactly where scruples were appropriate and where it
was better to forget them.
She fascinated me. I could not deny that. Despite
everything she had already experienced, she didn't seem to
lose the joy in her life. She did not become bitter, although
she would have had every reason to do so. First her
childhood and youth with her father, then the years she had
spent alone working for Emilio. Finally, her father had
caught with her, had tracked her down, and then forced her
to marry me. Even then, she had let reason prevail over her
first instinct and had gone along with it, knowing full well
what a sacrifice she was making, not to her father or me,
but to herself.
No matter how much effort I put into scaring her off and
keeping her at a distance, she ignored it and did her best to
somehow get through to me. And I didn't make it easy for
her. I couldn't deny that in any case. To my shame, it didn't
even stop there. Instead, she got along with Fiero and the
rest of the family, didn't demonize me for what I was doing,
and even offered me support whenever I needed it – in
whatever form I needed.
One thing was absolutely certain: Amedea was a gift
sent from heaven.
Once I focused on what happened when we got closer,
not just the other unforgettable impressions, it was an
understatement to say that she managed to control even
my dreams. Dea made me regret continuing to hold on to
not letting her into my bed.
Whenever I lay down in it, I had no choice but to think of
her and the image that had formed in my mind. Her body
would be perfect in the middle of the bed, her
comparatively light skin contrasting against the dark
fabric.
When her hair was around her head as if in a fan, she
would look like an angel, yet that belied everything inside
her.
Her exterior allowed no insight into the darkness I
sometimes found within her. Whenever I put my hand
around her petite neck and explored how good it felt to
play death, she gave herself willingly.
Her trust ran deep enough that she surrendered her
body unconditionally and firmly believed that I would never
harm her intentionally or accidentally.
I didn't know what I did to deserve this, but it touched
me deeply whenever I was confronted with it. When she lay
in front of me, legs spread and ready to prepare the way for
all the dark fantasies from my mind.
No sound was sweeter than the one that came out of her
mouth when I brought her to orgasm. Except for when I
heard my name on her lips. Full of desire. Full of ecstasy.
One thing that could be said with certainty: I was
screwed. In every way I could think of. And I didn't like it.
Knowing how she slowly wrapped me around her little
finger, this witch did not please me. I wasn't one of those
men who let themselves be pushed around, whom you only
had to pressure long enough to achieve what you actually
wanted.
At least, that's what I had believed. Amedea seemed to
want to prove me wrong.
I raised my head when I heard footsteps. A little later,
Dea appeared in the doorway, arms folded and looking at
me questioningly. As if it was still so unusual for her to see
me leaning somewhere, deep in thought.
"You stand here, but you don't respond when I call your
name?" she asked skeptically, maintaining a distance.
I had not noticed that she had called for me at all.
"Well, I guess I was a little distracted," I replied. Of
course, I wouldn't admit that she had distracted me in more
ways than one.
"Not tragic at all," she continued skeptically and entered
the kitchen. She looked around but apparently did not see
what she expected.
"Do you need help?" I asked, trying to figure out why she
had come looking for me in the first place.
"Not exactly," she replied, looking directly at me.
"There's an idea plaguing me that I just can't shake."
I raised an eyebrow. My interest was aroused, but her
choice of words made me remain cautious. It rarely meant
anything good when women took that tone and looked at
you that way. Usually, they wanted something.
But Amedea hadn't asked me for anything yet. Not even
to order or buy her anything, she took care of all these
things herself and had access to an account that could
easily cover all possible expenses.
"I'm all ears," I said skeptically.
She leaned against the sideboard with a thin grin and
crossed her arms. "Ever since we hunted that night in the
woods, I just can't get it out of my head what it would be
like to have you chase me."
My heart skipped a beat. Had I just heard correctly, or
was my brain playing a not very funny trick on me?
"You want me to hunt you?" I repeated slowly.
"Not like these men."
"How then?"
"How you would hunt me?"
"And what do I do when I've caught you?" I asked
decidedly provocatively.
 A lascivious smile now spread across her lips. "Then you
take whatever you want."
I felt something slowly stirring in my pants. The few
words she uttered were enough to evoke a particular scene
in my head, which ran incessantly in a continuous loop, the
longer I let myself be held captive by it.
"What sly demon whispered that idea in your ear?" I
asked. My voice had become rough.
I just couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to
chase her through the dark forest and take whatever I
wanted once I caught her. That I succeeded was out of the
question. After all, she proposed it and that meant,
sometimes, she would make it easy for me.

I put my hand over her mouth and pulled her against my

chest with a strong jerk so she could not resist.
With my free hand, I brushed the hair behind her ear,
leaned forward, and let her hear my dark laughter.
"Easy, maga," I muttered as I noticed her stiffening, and
slowly her flight instinct kicked in, even though she already
knew it was me and not one who wanted to do her serious
harm.
I took a few steps backward and pulled her with me to
the terrace. The pool was behind me, and the last streaks
of the day were still visible in the sky. In the nearby forest,
there was dead silence, mainly due to the presence of the
three predators.
I paused briefly to let my free hand glide over her body.
Amedea was wearing short shorts and a skimpy top
because it had been so warm during the day. As soon as the
night fully fell, it would cool down quickly. A circumstance
she could not change.
It had been her suggestion that I chase her through the
woods in the dark, and I was only too happy to comply with
her requests, especially when they appealed to me as much
as this one did.
"I'll give you a little head start," I declared, grabbing
Amedea and throwing her over my shoulder.
Her knees thundered against my chest, but I could only
laugh. She wanted to fight back? She wanted to challenge
me?
I was only too happy to give her that. I tilted my head,
sank my teeth into her ass, and let her feel all too clearly
what I thought of it and how I would handle it.
Undeterred, I followed the path toward the forest. I
ignored how her fingernails dug into my back.
"As I said, I'm going to give you a little head start," I
repeated. "You should use it."
"You didn't even give me a chance to put on shoes!" she
hissed and punched me.
"Did you want to play with fair rules? Did you expect me
to equip you with a flashlight, too?" My amusement was
clearly audible.
I could tell by her snort how much it pissed her off.
"You should run as fast and as far as you can. Maybe
you'll find a hiding place where you'll be safe from me. But
when I catch you. And I will. Then god have mercy on you
because I'm going to sink my cock so deep inside you that
you'll scream my name into the night."
She gasped, and I knew that her motivation to let me
catch her had increased many times over. "You'll never
catch me, Vincenzo," she taunted me.
All a part of the role she had slipped into. We both knew
that I would catch her and she would enjoy it.
"Shall I give you a taste of what awaits you?" I asked,
setting her down abruptly and pushing her against the
nearest tree.
In a split second, my mouth was rough on hers. With my
tongue, I pushed between her lips while my hand slipped
into her pants and slid straight between her legs.
Without warning, I slid two fingers into her pussy and
made a throaty sound as I felt her close around me, hot,
tight, and wet.
That was reason enough to immediately rip her pants
off, but I left it at, thrusting my fingers into her a few times
until she let out a soft gasp and clawed her hands into my
shoulders.
Only then did I pull back, lift my fingers to my lips and
let my tongue dart out to taste her sweetness. All the while,
I maintained eye contact, now tilting my head. "I will find
you, Dea. Your arousal will betray you," I warned her darkly
before grabbing her and threw her over my shoulder to
take her deeper into the woods. Her protests did not
escape me, but it was not loud enough to be significant.
Had she lost her tongue? Or was she saving her strength
for what was about to follow? Whatever it was I could
hardly wait to follow the scent of her arousal through the
forest, to take her off her feet and bury her under me on
the forest floor while I held her still and sank into her again
and again.
Our desire would fill the night and be hot enough to
rival the day's temperatures.
When we were far into the forest, I let her slide off my
shoulder and onto the ground in front of me. I crouched
down and looked at her in the dim moonlight.
She stared back at me, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"You're going to have to fight for it."
"Until you give yourself to me willingly," I replied,
amused. How long would her resistance last when her body
recognized me and remembered how good it felt to be
touched by me?
 Her brain was where the illusion was created, but her
body would not succumb to it for long.
I grabbed her chin and lifted it so she looked directly at
me. "Fight back all you want. In the end, you're mine, after
all, and will close your legs around my hips when I demand
that first orgasm from you."
"We'll see," she growled in a sort of forewarning before
tearing herself away from me and standing up. I looked up
at her, more than amused that she seemed to think she had
such control over her body.
There would be a delicious moment when the role-
playing dissolved and nothing but the reality remained. And
in this, our bodies worked so wonderfully together that I
reacted to her every time she came even an inch too close.
"I think your time has come. Run away, Dea. Run and
pray that I don't find you so soon."
She looked at me and took a deep breath. She turned
around and walked deeper into the forest.
In the moonlight, I saw goosebumps forming on her bare
arms. But not because she suddenly shivered, no. The
excitement had been written all too clearly in her face.
She would enjoy this as much as I would. She would
thrive in the role of the hunted, just as I would thrive in the
part of the hunter.
This time it wasn't about killing someone at the night's
end. No, this was so much better. As soon as I caught her, I
would teach her what lust meant in conjunction with the
adrenaline rush of the hunt.
Show her how easy it was to succumb to me. To
surrender to me. How much more tempting it was to simply
give up and let me have the victory if it meant being
rewarded.
In the silence, I counted to ten, but I kept counting since
I could still hear her roaming through the forest and could
even see in which direction she was running. Up to twenty.
Fifty. Eighty. One hundred. Two hundred. Five hundred.
 Only when I reached this number did I stop and listen
again. The forest lay silent before me. No sounds tore
through the night. I noticed no sign of where she had
disappeared; more importantly, there was no GPS tracker. I
would search in the old-fashioned way and look for her
purely with my innate talent as a hunter.
My father had nurtured this until it was superseded by
the technology I used for manhunts.
Well. Dea really didn't know what she had gotten herself
into. What she had to expect. And how exciting it became
when I was close on her heels, her scent in my nose and the
goal in sight.
My determination was unparalleled. I started moving,
and my senses sharpened. The first clue was her dainty
print in an almost dried-up puddle twenty yards from my
starting point.
I spotted bent undergrowth, tracks in the moss, and one
some hair hanging from a branch, shimmering almost
golden in the moonlight.
It was so easy when you knew what to look for. My pulse
quickened. The longer I followed her trail, the more
adrenaline pumped through my veins.
It wasn't exactly helpful to walk around with a massive,
hard boner, but I didn't let that get in my way. If anything, I
wouldn't have to wait a second once I got my hands on
Amedea.
I stopped and looked up into the night sky. "I can feel
your presence, maga, and you can't imagine how much I
long for you," I growled into the night and heard a branch
to my left break under the weight of a foot.
A grin spread across my lips.
OceanofPDF.com
 22

AMEDEA

M y lungs were on fire. I found it challenging to

breathe quietly and evenly. Since I had started
running, my senses were heightened. I listened
to every little sound and trusted the raised hairs on my
arms more than I did my gut feeling.
Vincenzo was nearby, and I knew it not only because I
heard his slow steps. He had growled something in some
distance.
As soon as I shifted my weight and heard the branch
break loudly under my foot, I knew I had made a mistake.
There were only two options: I stayed where I was and
hoped he didn't find me, or I ran and drew his attention to
me for good.
My body took the lead. Just for a moment I had pressed
myself against the thick tree trunk and rest my feet as I
had slashed them on some sharp-edged stones. The next
moment, I sprinted away to put as much distance as
possible between Vincenzo and me as quickly as possible.
By now, my heart was beating in my throat, not out of
genuine fear, but because I was looking forward to being
captured and feeling his strong hands on my body. Once his
hot breath hit the back of my neck, I would know it was
finally over. But until that time came I ran.
 I flew over stones, branches, and slight elevations,
trusting my body to choose the right path. The pale
moonlight bathed everything in a bizarre monochrome,
which didn't exactly make it easy to get away quickly
without seriously injuring yourself.
Behind me, I heard heavy, slow footsteps.
Vincenzo was in no hurry. That spurred me on even
more.
Between my legs, I felt the throbbing that had started
the second I felt his hand over my mouth. Merda. Mentally
I uttered a whole series of curses.
This man drove me crazy. A hunt in the dark forest,
where otherwise people died? He had already spoiled me if
I enjoyed this. The role I was slipping into. How I felt.
I knew it was just a game. I was the hunted, he the
hunter. He would take whatever he wanted from me – while
I tried to stop him.
To say it merely excited me was an understatement. It
did more to me. So much more.
"Why don't you give up, maga?" Vincenzo shouted.
But I didn't even think about it! He had to get his hands
on me himself. Otherwise, he would lose the game and,
with it, the main prize.
I didn't answer, didn't even turn around or stop. I ran on.
Small branches whipped my face. Stones bored into my
bare soles. My lungs burned. Every breath meant pain and
freedom at the same time.
I felt the effort to find my way in the forest. But also the
anticipation.
My foot unexpectedly caught on a fallen tree trunk. I
stumbled and struggled for balance. And landed on my butt
with another curse.
I got up, ready to run away again. But at the same
moment, I recognized the dark shadow between the trees
not four yards away from me.
 The pounding of my heart was so vigorous that my chest
suddenly felt much too tight. My cheeks glowed. Heat rose
inside me.
"Did I knock you off your feet, little witch?" he asked.
His dark, excited voice triggered a tingling inside me.
Simultaneously with his words, I pushed back, trying to
create some distance between us. But he simply caught up
again with two long steps.
"Do you want to keep running away from me?" It
sounded like an amused rebuke.
A tremor ran through my body. Still not from fear, no. All
I felt was desire. For this man who knew how to fuck me on
more than one level. Physically? We were getting to that.
Emotionally? I'd better not even get started on that.
Psychologically? He was already so deep inside me that I
knew what the first touch of his hands would trigger.
I lifted my chin. "You won't get anything from me
voluntarily," I hissed, pushing myself up on my heels and
stood upright in a split second.
Driven by adrenaline, I whirled around and tried my
luck. I got as far as the next tree and was thrown hard
against it. Suddenly Vincenzo was in front of me, pressing
his body lengthwise against mine, making me feel every
glorious inch of his toned muscles and more.
Given the erection, which pressed hot through the fabric
against my belly, a sound of delight would have escaped my
lips. But I would not give him the satisfaction.
He grabbed my chin, pressed my head against the
unyielding bark, and pushed my legs apart with his knee.
I was entirely at his mercy. And I enjoyed it.
I even forgot to fight him for a moment, and he seemed
to forget that there was this option so I struck out. Quick as
a flash.
He caught my hand in mid-air and turned me around
with a mighty jerk, my arm suddenly up my back and my
face pressed against the tree trunk.
 I could hardly breathe, but I had rarely felt more alive
and excited than at that moment.
Vincenzo pressed himself against me from behind. "Try
that again," he growled threateningly, yanked my shorts
down, and placed a well-aimed blow on my right buttock.
I jerked, reaching out to his hand the next second.
"Bloody hell, Dea, you can't do this to me," he hissed.
Invitingly, I stretched my butt toward him, swaying my
hips. "Hit me again," I urged him. "Come on. Try harder to
really hurt me."
His flat hand hit my unprotected skin, and in the first
moment, I felt a piercing hot pain, but it was chased by
desire. Each blow drove directly between my legs,
increasing my desire for him.
After two more strokes, he paused, pressing his body
against mine again. By now, his cock was rock hard, pulsing
against the fabric of his jeans, rubbing uncomfortably
against the irritated skin of my buttocks.
I pressed toward him with the same intensity.
God, I needed him. Urgently. Immediately. Why wasn't
he inside me long ago, filling me to the last inch, when it
was so obvious that I wanted him?
Vincenzo turned my head to the side, and slid his tongue
over my carotid artery and down to my shoulder until his
teeth sank into my flesh. I groaned in agony.
More and more new stimuli shot through my body, and
slowly but surely, he flooded me with them.
"I love your taste on my tongue. You know that? Your
skin, pussy, and even your fucking hair smell so seductive.
But you know what tops that feeling? The second I enter
you inch by inch for the first time. How it always takes you
a brief moment to get used to it. I can see on your face how
much you like being fucked by me. How much you need it."
His mouth came closer to my ear. "In some ways, you are
indeed a spoiled, greedy slut. How fortunate you are mine,
and I know exactly how to handle you."
 My heart stopped beating for a moment. His words
caught me unexpectedly. I held my breath, feeling the lava
shoot through my body, followed by lightning and a feeling
similar to the moment when you hear the thunder of the
storm right above you. Felt. I felt it to the very core.
My mouth dried up until his lips were suddenly on mine.
Demanding. Unyielding. Hard.
At the same moment, he pushed my legs further apart,
his tip resting against my pussy, but he did not penetrate
me. Instead, he grabbed my hips and pulled me up and
back, forcing me to slowly slide onto his cock.
I had no choice but to hold on to the tree trunk, utterly
dependent on him. He set the pace. The rhythm. The angle
at which he pushed himself into me again and again.
After only seconds, my legs began to tremble. I reached
back to hold at least part of him and caught his forearm.
My fingernails dug into his skin as he made me see stars.
With each thrust, he sank hard but slowly inside me.
I bit my lower lip to stifle the detached moan that sat in
my throat.
After a few minutes in that position, he pulled back,
spun me away from the tree, and gave me a thrust hard
enough to send me to the ground. It wasn't a second before
he was over me, my legs on his arms so he could penetrate
me even deeper. He didn't take his time with that.
Meanwhile, he tore my shirt.
When he was up to the last inch inside me, he leaned
forward. "Where is your resistance now, maga?" he taunted
me, simultaneously fucking me again brutally and
relentlessly.
An extended moan escaped as he repeatedly hit that
sensitive spot inside me. He knew it. Played with it.
Brought me closer to an orgasm, only to change the angle
again and tear me away.
His amused grin gave him away.
 I grabbed his head and pulled him closer. Kissed him.
And sighed his name while our mouths were connected. At
the same moment, his hips jerked uncontrollably against
mine.
I knew his one weak point, and I was only too happy to
exploit it if I could irritate him with it.
My hand slid from his shoulders to his butt so I could dig
my fingers into the soft skin.
He allowed it for a few seconds until he grabbed my
arms, pressed them into the moss above my head, and then
bent forward to devote his mouth to my nipples, which
stretched inviting toward him because he forced me to arch
my back.
I enjoyed every second. Every movement he made with
his hips. Every body contact. Every impatient touch.
"I can feel your pussy tightening around me, Dea. I know
what you want. But the question is do you deserve it? Are
you good enough to be allowed to have it?"
It was a rhetorical question, I registered, as he grabbed
me and turned us around once so that I was sitting on him.
I felt him even more intensely this way.
I rode him, savoring every moment, especially what was
happening on his face. After just a few movements, I knew
what would bring him to orgasm the fastest and me right
along with him. Seeing how detached and wholly absorbed
he was at the moment, satisfied me almost more than
feeling his cock inside me and knowing that all these
sensations and reactions were my fault.
With a lascivious grin, I bent down to him, not
interrupting the movements of my hips for a second. My
finger slid over his chin. "Come for me, Enzo," I whispered
softly.
He grabbed my hips and lifted me, pushing me down
onto his cock. At the same moment, he came inside me.
Hot, twitching, and with an excited sound on his lips.
 That's all it took to bring me to orgasm on the spot as
well.
I let myself sink down on top of him, enjoying lifting his
hand and silently burying them in my hair, still breathing
hard.
Sometimes there was simply no need for words.
OceanofPDF.com
 23

VINCENZO

C an you sit still for a moment? Is that within the

realm of possibility?" I asked, annoyed, staring at
Amedea through the dark car. All the while, she
was bobbing her foot, chewing on the straw stuck in the
way-too-large cup of iced coffee she had treated herself to
at Starbucks.
Treated was the right word because the coffee cost half
a fortune. I ignored that we were sitting in my Lamborghini
Sián and was rather amused that Dea gave me an offended
sideways glance.
She had a whole stack of paper in front of her,
containing the data we had gathered on the guy who had
earned the top spot on the hit list.
"I'm excited," she said in defense.
"You don't say," I muttered.
She stuck her tongue out at me, turned her attention
back to the coffee, and added slurping noises to the
annoyingly tense scenery.
I took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of my
nose. Where had I gotten the idea to actually keep taking
her? She was doing fine in Tramonti. In the house. Far
away from felons I wanted to hang upside down from a tree
so I could slit them lengthwise and watch the guts slap the
ground in slow motion.
 This was not exactly the kind of show Amedea was
supposed to see, yet she vehemently insisted on
accompanying me and doing her part.
Like sitting in the car on a Friday night watching the
house where the guy lived. I needed more information
about his habits to plan the kidnapping so it wouldn't be
noticed when he disappeared.
However, I was still missing a few details and Dea was
more than dogged to bring this information to light with
me.
"You know, I think you'd do better behind the screen
than on the ground. Less adrenaline."
"And I think you're being insulting," she replied a little
flippantly, which amused me.
"I only mean well…"
Dea rolled her eyes. "And I don't feel like seeing the
same thing every day."
Carlotta had never complained that she didn't get to see
much besides the villa. Why couldn't Amedea take a bit of
that indifference and be content with what she had in
Tramonti?
Oh yes. She finally had the freedom to do whatever she
wanted. Of course, she took full advantage of it – even if it
meant putting a heavy strain on my nerves.
You just had to – I interrupted my train of thought,
cleared my throat, and refocused on the house, which we
could only observe from a few yards away without
attracting too much attention.
As far as I knew, the guy had a wife and even children,
though I doubted anyone would miss the bastard. He
probably not only raped and murdered but also lived out
his tyranny at home.
With knowledge like this, it was more difficult to sit
quietly in the car and watch. After all, he might have just
beaten his wife in there, and you didn't notice the slightest
out here.
 "When we catch him, though, I'll do it alone. I can't take
care of him and keep you safe at the same time," I finally
said, suggesting a kind of compromise that sounded
halfway okay. At least for me.
Amedea turned her head in my direction. "With the
exciting parts, you want to exclude me?"
"Fiero never talks this much when we're out together."
"But that's because he's pandering to you," she shot
back.
Her eyes sparkled in the little light the streetlight gave
in the darkness.
"You could adapt as well."
"And let you seethe in peace? Out of the question."
By now, I knew what she was aiming at with her
spontaneous provocations, and it would probably be a lie if
I claimed I didn't like it. If only it weren't so exhausting to
keep this damned woman in check.
She never pulled herself together. She was everywhere
and nowhere, nonchalantly claiming my full attention
whether I wanted it or not.
I was quiet. She was loud. I was intimidating; she was
the type of golden retriever who also liked to turn into a
biting terrier when needed. We were opposites who
attracted and complemented each other, at least when we
gave each other the space we needed.
"And you're still wondering why I won't let you sleep in
my bed," I muttered, my eyes fixed on her legs moving up
and down rapidly.
She snorted but didn't give me an answer. So I turned on
the radio, pulled out my phone, and took a short break from
keeping a constant eye on the house – except for the few
seconds I spent looking at Amedea.
Emilio had sent me a quick message because he was
sitting on some new deals with the French. Dario had
forwarded me the third supposedly funny video of the day
and was waiting for me to respond appropriately. I sent him
laughing smileys without even opening the video.
Dea's hand landed on mine.
"Enzo," she murmured.
I looked up, followed her other hand, and saw a young
woman rush out of the house, an infant in her arms.
At first, I didn't see anything wrong, but then I noticed
how the guy came out too. And his movements did not
indicate that he was sober nor had good intentions.
I gritted my teeth. If we intervened now…
The decision was taken from me because Amedea had
already torn open the door and rushed toward the young
woman.
I also got out of the car.
"Hey. It's been ages since we've seen each other. I didn't
know you had a kid now. It's yours, isn't it? How small the
world is! When was the last time we saw each other? In
elementary school?" She just started talking as soon as she
reached the woman. Not a single word of it was accurate,
but the young woman seemed relieved and willingly
acquiesced.
Still, our target was only kept at bay for about twenty
seconds before stepping up next to the woman and
grabbing her upper arm. "Nice reunion. But we have
something to do," he said gruffly, almost pushing Amedea
away in the opposite direction.
All this time I had stayed in the background but now I
stepped forward, right next to Dea. "Is there a problem
here? Why do you feel the need to push my wife?"
I would have loved to let it be known that I knew every
one of his dirty secrets, down to the smallest detail.
"That's none of your business," he growled.
I tilted my head. "I'm afraid it is."
I didn't want this to escalate. But it would be very
convenient for me if he gave me a reason to thump my fist
in his face.
 "We're leaving now," he announced, yanking the
woman's arm as she vehemently braced herself.
Amedea reached out, fished the infant out of his
mother's arms, and did the right thing for once: she sought
some distance.
"It seems to me that she doesn't want to go anywhere
else," I commented, my eyes fixed on the hand that was
much too tightly around the woman's upper arm. "I'm
Vincenzo, by the way," I added after a second.
Nothing went as planned. Actually, we should not
interfere in matters like this. Usually, however, I did not
witness how these men treated their victims. I didn't have
to ask myself whether I would have intervened in a
different situation where Amedea was not present. Because
the answer was definitely yes.
"Maria," she said in a trembling voice.
The guy was getting angrier and angrier, which didn't
help to calm down the whole situation.
"I suggest you let go of her now, amico. Otherwise, we'll
have a problem, and it won't end well. For you, just to be
clear." What would he do? Call the police? Then he might as
well take himself to the nearest jail because once they
possessed his DNA… he seemed to notice it very slowly. He
released his hand from the woman's arm, who immediately
ran to her child after she was freed.
I took up a position between him and the women. With
my arms crossed, I waited for him to move away, but he
stopped and stared past me. I didn't need telepathic
abilities to know what was going on in his head.
He thought about how he could hurt her. How he would
get past me to harm this woman and her child, and the only
thing standing in between was me. I saved the warning
commentary and waited for him to moved because that
gave me a reason to grab him by the collar and beat the
crap out of him.
 But he pulled himself together, observed only from a
distance, and wallowed mentally in his intention.
If we left Maria alone, she would become his next victim
in no time. A fact that was not up for debate in any case.
Behind me, Amedea whispered with the young woman.
No matter what it was about, I was sure we had to get
them to a safe place tonight.
I made a decision, turned away from the guy and went
to Amedea, grabbed her hand, and pressed the Sián's keys
into her hand. "Get out of here. Take these two somewhere
safe. No police."
She knew how this went, yet she looked at me in
surprise.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of the problem." At this, I
looked meaningfully at Maria. If she understood,
understood on a deeper level, she would get in that car and
never look back.
Relieved, I noticed that she let Amedea lead her to the
car and got in on the passenger side. Through the
windshield, I briefly looked at Dea, who gave me a small
smile.
However, concern also drew her face, and it was not for
herself or the other woman but solely for me.
I had already done something like this hundreds of
times.
I wheeled around and grabbed the guy by the back of
the neck and pulled him away from the car, whose engine
was now howling. "I think you'd better forget them," I
growled and flung him back.
He lost his balance and landed on the road, not on his
feet but on his butt.
Amedea was no longer here, so there was nothing to
hold me back.
I plucked him off the street and pushed him toward his
house, not wanting onlookers or nosy neighbors who might
end up alerting the cops.
 My new buddy cursed loudly, resisted my grip, and tried,
again and again, to tear himself away from me or to land a
blow on me. In vain, of course, because I kept the distance
between us large enough, he had no chance to hurt me
despite everything.
"Sucks to suddenly be messing with someone in your
weight class, doesn't it?" I growled as soon as I had pushed
him through the front door and locked it behind us.
"How dare you! " He spat in front of my feet.
Amused, I stared at him. "I know your dirty little secrets:
the rapes, the murders. I know every detail. And it's no
coincidence that I'm standing here tonight."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed,
bumping into the dresser behind him.
In one swift motion, he yanked open the top drawer,
rummaged through it… and was staring down the barrel of
my gun when he turned back in my direction.
"Wouldn't recommend it," I said in an emotionless voice,
gesturing for him to drop his weapon if he wanted to
survive the next five seconds.
He was pathetic. He hadn't even managed to take the
safety off his gun. I could have shot him three times
already.
So he was also a lousy criminal.
"I bet you feel like a real meanie. Powerful. Ruthless.
The king. Yet you basically pick people who can't defend
themselves or are vulnerable. That is, above all, cowardly.
No wonder your knees are shaking."
Satisfied, I watched him drop the gun. It landed at his
feet, and he pushed it toward me. I left it there. After all, he
had done, I would certainly not give him a quick, merciful
death. No, on the contrary. He would suffer, insofar as
possible, in a densely populated area like this, without
drawing too much attention to myself.
"Let's take a quick trip to the kitchen," I said, motioning
for him to go ahead.
 As soon as we got there, I pulled the knife block from
the kitchen island in my direction, took out the biggest one,
and shoved it at him. "I want you to chop off your pinky, or
I'll shoot you in the balls."
"You can't do that, man!" he groaned in shock.
I could. And I would. Only he certainly did not suspect
that.
"Do it, or I'll prove it to you right now."
It wouldn't be nearly enough pain, but it was certainly a
start. I watched him reach for the knife under the
supervision of my gun and place his other hand flat on the
countertop.
He was shaking. Sweet. I bet he hadn't been shaking
when he killed the four women.
Whether he pissed his pants or begged for it, he
deserved no pity. Bored, I watched as he pressed the knife's
edge against his finger and contorted his face in the
anticipated pain.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand holding the knife, and
guided it. Take a swing, descending onto the countertop,
and…
He cried out as a small pool of blood spread.
"Oh, come on, that was just a little finger. We're nowhere
near done."
"How deranged are you?!" he shouted and held his hand
tightly.
Me? Amused, I looked at the poor worm. "You've got it
mixed up. And now I would advise you to continue with the
next finger because there is no second demonstration."
He shook his head. He refused. But that ultimately did
him no good because the weapon in my hand had enough
persuasive power to make him reach for the knife again.
He probably still believed he would get out of it, and
they would sew his fingers back on. He was just a little off
the mark, but I wouldn't point that out to him as long as I
could watch him mutilate himself.
 It didn't offer the same satisfaction as a hunt through
the dark forest, but I had no problem adapting to the
circumstances. And if that meant he died in his kitchen
tonight then so be it.
OceanofPDF.com
 24

AMEDEA

B y early dawn, I'd had enough of not hearing from

Enzo all night. Worry gnawed at me. What if
something had happened to him after I had taken
Maria to safety? What if he had gotten into trouble and I
returned to the house too late?
The Sián took me there quickly, but it wasn't until I saw
the sunrise just behind the house that I knew I had made a
small mistake in coming.
Instead of letting Fiero know and asking him for
reinforcements, I decided to show up alone.
I bit my lower lip, pulled open the glove compartment,
and took out Enzo's hidden gun. Hidden. The man wasn't as
great at hiding things as he thought.
With a queasy feeling in my stomach, I got out and
slowly made my way toward the house, always keeping an
eye on my surroundings. Were there signs of a fight? Had
the police shown up or had some other drama taken place?
I discovered nothing, but that hardly meant anything.
When I arrived at the house's low porch, I dared to look
through a window. Nothing. No sign that anyone was home
at all.
Merda.
Should I ring the doorbell? Or sneak around the house,
hoping to find the back door unlocked?
 Stealthily, I glanced over my shoulder. The neighborhood
still seemed to be fast asleep, so I set about circling the
house.
Only when I could peek around the corner did I pause
briefly and try to get an overview of the garden. It was
more extensive than I had assumed, given the residential
density in this settlement.
I was about to go to the back door when I spotted a
shadow between the trees.
I almost had a heart attack; that's how scared I was. At
the same moment, I scolded myself inwardly because it was
exactly with this expectation, I had come here. To meet
someone, preferably Enzo, because I didn't know how to
stand up to a murderer and rapist.
Maria hadn't known and had been trapped in an ugly,
toxic relationship with this man for months – our
appearance had put her out of her misery. I had taken her
to a women's shelter last night and made sure she had
enough money for the future to raise her son without worry.
I bit my tongue as I slowly made my way through the
garden until I got close enough to the shadow to realize
with relief that it was indeed Vincenzo.
He was alive!
The guy had not razed him to the ground. An invisible
burden fell from my shoulders, which I had not noticed
before.
I lowered the gun and made myself known. Vincenzo
seemed to have already been aware of my presence
because he merely turned his head instead of being as
frightened as I was.
"You shouldn't have come back," he noted quietly, rising
and patting his hands on his pants. They looked like he had
been kneeling in the dirt for a long time.
I snorted. "Then you should have taken a minute to text
me that you were okay."
 Out of defiance, I crossed my arms and eyed him
reproachfully.
Next to him on the ground was a bag of seeds, also a
shovel, and a spade. He certainly hadn't spent the night
tending the garden for the bastard.
I chewed my lip, wondering whether I should ask what
had happened. I was dying to know, but his reaction was
reason enough to just leave him here and go back to
Tramonti alone.
"And you could have sent Fiero instead of putting
yourself in danger," he countered.
"You're such an idiot," I grumbled, turning on my heel to
put some distance between us.
I knew that it had been a mistake to come here alone.
That did not change the fact that I felt concerned for him.
Actually, it was ridiculous. After all, we were talking about
Vincenzo de Archard, who had more lives on his conscience
than I had encountered people so far. That he failed against
a simple murderer was extremely unlikely.
"I don't know what you expected!" he shouted after me. I
was inclined to give him the middle finger and leave him
standing there, but I wheeled around, feeling a little angry.
"Was it fun, at least?" I asked back.
It was silly to yell at each other and attract attention in
someone else's yard after burying a body not ten yards
away, but I couldn't help myself.
Vincenzo seemed to be aware of this as well because he
stomped in my direction, grabbed me, and pulled me
toward the house, not caring that he was causing me pain.
He maneuvered me inside, closed the door behind us,
and let go of me. I stumbled away from him, only to find the
kitchen smeared with blood up to the ceiling. Including the
countertop, the floor, the sink, the door frame… the path to
the garden.
I opened my mouth, turned to Enzo, and stared at him
questioningly. What had happened? I couldn't remember
people having that much blood.
"He eventually stopped taking my threats seriously, so I
demonstrated to him how much more painful it is when I
lay a hand on him myself. As opposed to when he mutilates
himself, of course."
I exhaled. "You weren't going to take him to Tramonti?"
"I didn't know if you were going there with her."
A good train of thought, but I would never have taken
Maria there. It was Enzo's private realm and outsiders had
no business there.
"I took her to a women's shelter, gave her money, and
promised her that she would no longer be in danger as long
as she kept a low profile and never returned."
"Well, even if she were to return…" Vincenzo made a
rude gesture with his hand, probably to tell me that the guy
was more than dead.
"Isn't it dangerous to bury him here? What if anyone
shows up?"
"The guy has no one left but this woman; we knew that.
The house is rented, but the rent isn't due for another
month. Someone will show up eventually. Let's say in six
weeks, the landlord opens the house. He'll find only a few
pieces of furniture left, nothing more. The grass at the back
of the yard will have grown back and nothing will be
visible. Even if he is found they won't find my marks on
him." He sounded so sure that I believed every word of it.
"That means you want to get rid of everything?"
"There's not much. A few boxes of baby stuff, hardly any
personal items. The only problem is the kitchen. I have to
get that completely clean somehow."
I shook my head. Apparently, he hadn't thought of that
last night.
A little disgusted, I went to the sink cabinet, yanked
open the doors, and looked for cleaning supplies. Vince had
murdered people – presumably, he had the basic cleaning
and laundry supplies to rid himself of all evidence. Now, if
his siblings knew about his nice hobbies, I could have just
called one of the crime scene cleaners who worked for
them but I guess we had to get our hands dirty ourselves.
I unearthed a smorgasbord of bottles, gloves, and coarse
sponges.
"For not even being remotely happy that someone cares
about you, you can clean that shit up yourself," I
announced, still slightly miffed.
Vincenzo opened his mouth to protest, but I immediately
interrupted him. He didn't need to try to talk his way out of
it; his reaction had been clear.
I pulled back from the battlefield to watch Enzo put on
gloves and a mask and start scrubbing the kitchen.
Meanwhile, I opened the windows and looked around
the rest of the house. Vincenzo had been right; there was
hardly anything. In some rooms, not even furniture, as if he
had rented the house only to keep Maria and her son
prisoners.
I shook myself, finished my tour and returned to the
kitchen.
Enzo briefly looked around at me before returning to his
work. I watched him with folded arms.
Tramonti would undoubtedly have been the better
alternative; after all, there were all the necessary utensils
to handle everything with as little mess as possible.
"You're outraged, aren't you?" he asked.
"A little," I replied, staring at my hands.
He did not interrupt his work, but I noticed he scrubbed
less determinedly. Had what I said bothered him after all?
Finally, he did stop, straighten up, and look in my
direction. "Usually, these ventures consist of Fiero and me.
No women to worry about when the going gets tough. You
think I didn't worry last night about what would happen if
this guy snapped and went off on you guys? Goes off on you
because he didn't like you taking the baby out of the line of
fire?"
 "You're not the only one who can worry," I said softly, my
body tense.
"Realistically, what's going to happen to me?"
There it was again, the arrogance typical of a de
Archard when it came to his own life. "You could die."
He snorted.
"This is not funny, Enzo. What I'm saying is completely
serious. You could die, and you would leave behind your
brothers, your sister, Fiero and Natale are also close to you.
And me. You would leave me behind alone too. And actually,
I don't care if you want to hear this, but we've spent the
last few weeks together, and no matter how grim, dark, and
mean you are sometimes, I've gotten used to you and your
presence. I rely on you. Your protection and that sense of
security you evoke in me."
He raised his shoulders indifferently. "You could find
someone else."
"BUT I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE!" I hurled at him.
Furious that he never cared what I thought or how I was
doing.
I felt tears stinging my eyes and hated myself for
growing fond of this man.
That was my death sentence if I thought about it more
carefully. At some point, he would do something or bring
something to light that would bring me to the edge of my
strength.
To make matters worse, he didn't even have enough
courage to speak up. He just looked at me, that
unbelievably sad expression on his face that told me exactly
how much worse I had made everything.
"Very well," I murmured, barely holding a sob. What
would he care if I burst into tears simply because I couldn't
stand how cold it made him when someone was worried
about him. "I'm going back… to Tramonti."
I closed my hands around my upper arms and went out
the back door. It almost slipped out that I was going home.
It wasn't even that, or he would have used the last few
minutes to limit the damage.
But he didn't. Because it didn't matter. Unfortunately, I
remembered his words, which he had addressed to me not
even five days ago.
I am not the man you want. But you are the woman I
need. Well, despite all adversities, he had developed into
the man I wanted – and not just since yesterday. I wanted
him, although I was very well aware of what kind of pain
that brought with it.
I would never really have Enzo.
Not as long as he did not admit to himself what had long
been obvious.

For the first time, I enjoyed the sheer power in the

Sián's engine. Eight hundred and eight horsepower, seven
gears, and a top speed that you probably couldn't reach on
any highway in the world without completely blocking it.
It felt good not to take my foot off the gas pedal and get
around the oncoming morning traffic with some skill. In a
way, you could even call it satisfying.
I would have liked it even better to sweep through the
completely empty streets of Naples, but that was probably
as improbable as it was utopian. It was a miracle not to
encounter a police car and not even be cut off by the
daredevil maneuvers this car made.
I raced toward Mount Vesuvius, which was hidden in the
morning fog and only showed itself when I was already on
the highway that led past Torre del Greco and would take
me toward Pompei and finally over countless switchbacks
to Tramonti.
 However, I noticed something was wrong when I came
near Portici. Something felt strange, but I couldn't quite
put my finger on it. The Lamborghini was fine, and so was
my speed and the traffic. More people were trying to get
into Naples than out. And yet…
I glanced in the rearview mirror and squinted. A red
Porsche hadn't it been behind me twenty minutes ago?
I was probably wrong; after all, there was a lot of traffic
around. I drove faster, changed lanes, and tried to distance
myself from the other car. The Porsche swerved and stayed
on my heels. If I drove off the freeway and onto it again at
the next on-ramp, would it follow?
If I were being followed, it would reveal to my pursuer
that I had noticed him.
I reached for my cell phone, tapped on Vincenzo's
contact, and listened to the ringing through the
speakerphone. Again and again, it rang, but he didn't pick
up. Until his voicemail came on, which he hadn't even set.
I hung up and glanced in the rearview mirror. We passed
more than one exit, but the Porsche remained behind me.
Once again, I tried to reach Vincenzo, but now I felt
queasy. Why didn't he pick up?
He could hardly be so pissed off that he refused to
answer my call! One-handed, I couldn't send him a
message, so I kept trying to reach him.
When I finally reached the height of Torre del Greco, I
realized that no matter how many times I called him, he
wouldn't pick up.
I snorted and scrolled to Emilio's contact to call him.
It rang precisely twice, then he answered.
"This is a rather ungodly time for calls, Bellissima," he
greeted me in comparatively good spirits.
"Fortunately, neither of us believes in god," I muttered,
happy to have a pleasant conversation. But the red Porsche
in my rearview mirror reminded me why I had actually
called Emilio.
 "You want to tell me what's going on?"
"The short version is that I'm in the Sián, and I think I'm
being followed. They probably believe Vincenzo is driving.
I'm on the way to Tramonti, while your brother ignores my
calls."
"I'll handle this the smart way, not the way that would
suit me better," he replied, suddenly adopting a
professional tone. "What kind of car is following you, and
since when?"
"Red Porsche. Since Naples. A good twenty-five, almost
thirty minutes."
"And where are you?"
"Right near Leopardi."
"Highway?"
"Yes."
"There's no way you're going to Tramonti."
"Where to then?" I asked, already feeling the panic in
my bones.
"You continue on the highway toward Nocera Inferiore
and then take the country road until you reach the highway
that will take you to Striano and Nola."
"But if the person knows where Vincenzo lives, it will
seem strange to him."
"As long as you're on a well-traveled route, you should
be reasonably safe."
I laughed. Nervously. "I hope so."
"Flavia has informed Natale and Fiero, but it may be
that Dario will be there sooner."
"Good. Is there going to be a shootout on the freeway,
Lio?"
"I hope not. What about Enzo?"
"He's not answering."
"For a specific reason?" Of course, he knew Vincenzo
well enough to have a guess about that.
"We had a little discussion."
 "He won't ignore me," he informed. "So now you're
going to speak with Flavia, and I'll let my brother know he's
an idiot."
Before I could say anything, I heard the phone being
passed around.
"At least it's more exciting than breakfast," Flavia said.
"Believe me, I'd prefer that right now," I replied with a
laugh.
Pompei was getting closer and closer and, with it, the
exit toward Tramonti, which I should not take under any
circumstances if I listened to Emilio. But how were they
going to stop the pursuit?
"Give me updates on the Porsche, Dea," Flavia asked,
and I nodded, though she couldn't see it.
"It's still behind me. Copies every overtaking maneuver
and has almost the same speed. When I slow down, he
drops back."
"And if you stopped…"
"He would also stop, I assumed."
"I wish you could go straight back to Naples and lure
that pig to the villa."
"Well, if I had been paying more attention, I probably
would have noticed it back in Naples."
"Don't worry about it. I probably wouldn't have noticed.
Emilio pays attention to these things, or whoever is
around."
"Too bad I'm traveling alone," I muttered.
And all because of Vincenzo and his stubbornness. We
could have been in that car together, if only he…
I passed a truck, and the Porsche came so close I
managed to catch a glimpse of the license plate. I reported
it to Flavia, but beyond that, I, unfortunately, missed taking
a look inside the driver's cab. Though it would have been
difficult to see anything with the tinted windows.
"Well, usually, you're the one who sends us the
important info."
 "Difficult. I'm busy concentrating on the road." I wanted
to block it out, but the bitter truth was that my hands were
shaking, and I had difficulty gripping the steering wheel
properly.
"It'll be fine, you hear? Dario has set off, and the other
two are already on their way. From two different
directions."
It relieved me, yet it was not what I wanted to hear.
Emilio retook the phone. "He's not far behind you, Dea,"
he informed me.
"Who? Dario?"
"Vince. He says you should take the exit and drive
toward Tramonti. It's easier to corner the pursuer on the
open roads."
"Is he sure?"
I didn't have time to get upset that he had been talking
to Emilio but had studiously ignored my calls as if it
suddenly didn't matter if something had happened to me.
Not so long ago, he had admitted the opposite, and now he
was stubborn enough to block my calls.
"Yes," Emilio replied.
"Okay. I hope he knows what he's doing," I muttered
and, shortly after that, reached the exit at Angri that would
take me through Corbara before the not-so-well-laid-out
switchbacks followed.
Emilio and Flavia stayed on the other end of the line, but
I didn't know what more there was to say. The red Porsche
followed me down the highway, confirming that I was being
followed.
How far away were Dario, Fiero and Natale? Would they
be there in time?
So far, I hadn't spotted Vincenzo in the rear-view mirror,
but I didn't have the slightest idea what kind of car I should
be looking for. What was he driving if I had taken the Sián
with which we had arrived?
 I gulped when I saw the red Porsche still behind me as
soon as it turned onto Via Esterna Chiunzi. The
Lamborghini handled well, but I felt unsafe in the road
conditions. But that would probably have been the case
even if I had been in a tank and not being followed.
"It won't be long before I reach the turnoff that leads to
his house," I informed Emilio.
"And the pursuer?"
"Is still right behind me and getting closer."
"The others still need time," he replied. He was probably
gritting his teeth and had clenched his hand into a fist, not
only because Vincenzo had changed the plan but was now
nowhere near coming to my aid.
An ice-cold knot formed in my stomach.
The Porsche moved closer and started an overtaking
maneuver. I suspected he wouldn't get in front of me but
would try something else.
When I went faster I couldn't hug the tight corners
anymore.
"Merda!" I cursed and slammed on the brakes when the
other vehicle was level with me. But instead of shooting off
to the front, he came at me from the side.
Closer and closer, he came to my car. I was on the verge
of wrenching the steering wheel just to eliminate the
feeling of constriction and loss of control.
I snorted.
"Emilio, I'm afraid he means it," I growled between
clenched teeth. I slowed down even more. But the driver
only got half a car length ahead of me, which he would
surely use to push me off the road as soon as the guardrail
stopped again, and next to it was the slope that shortly
after turned into forest.
"What's happening, Dea?"
"We're still going crazy fast, and he's trying to run me
off the road. If I stop, he'll get in front of me, and I won't be
able to get out of here."
 I gritted my teeth, stepped on the gas, and let the Sián
shoot forward, which automatically pushed my opponent to
the right. Metal crashed as we brushed against each other,
and the rear end of the Lamborghini broke free. Still, after
an agonizingly long five seconds, I managed to get the car
reasonably stable again.
Until the glass of the rear cover flew around my ears.
The shot rang in my ears.
My heart raced. It took all my effort to keep the car on
the road and not jerk the steering wheel in fright.
"Was that a gunshot, Dea?" Emilio yelled through the
speakerphone.
"Well, it wasn't applause for my good driving skills," I
quipped.
In the background, I heard Emilio talking to someone.
Loudly. Aggressively. Flavia cursed.
I had my hands full trying to put a gap between myself
and the red Porsche again, which was already reduced in
the next turn.
The window next to me exploded with the next bullet,
missing me by a hair's breadth.
"I'm not made for this!" I hissed and instinctively tried to
make myself smaller. To duck. But neither was an option
when you were sitting in an already low-slung sports car
that, with its shape, offered few options for other seating
arrangements.
"You're doing well," Flavia said.
"I've only almost been shot twice," I replied, a sinister
undertone in my voice.
"But only almost," she repeated as if that should cheer
me up.
I let out a sharp scream as I felt the impact of the other
car against mine. The Porsche had approached from behind
and, regardless of any losses, had collided with my car, to
push me across the lane.
 I couldn't keep the steering wheel still. I heard metal
screeching and both bodies protested against the accident.
Frantically, the guardrail came closer; the Sián crashed
through it and flung me forward until the seat belt yanked
me back. The world around me exploded in a cacophony of
noise as the car crashed into the nearest tree, shaking me
so hard that I briefly lost consciousness, though I could
hear Emilio yelling through the phone.
OceanofPDF.com
 25

VINCENZO

S he doesn't answer," Emilio repeated for the third

time after still, no answer had crossed my lips.
How could I? I was practically on the gas pedal. I
cursed the bad road conditions ahead. It was difficult, even
for an SUV like this one.
"Vince," Emilio growled.
"I understood you," I hissed back.
She did not answer. This was probably just punishment
because I had not responded to her calls either and had
rather stubbornly stuck to ignoring her. What this had
brought me, I felt in my body now, because I suffered
alternately heat and cold, not to mention nausea that had
spread in my gut.
Merda.
If I had just affirmed all that she had said and told the
truth, she wouldn't be alone in that damn car right now.
There would be no accident.
Emilio had repeatedly told me that she must have
crashed after the pursuer tried to vehemently push her off
the road. The Sián was fast. But was it also designed to
save a driver who had an accident?
I could probably answer that. I knew the infernal car
inside out.
"How much longer are you going to be?"
 "I can see where the accident happened," I hissed as
soon as the column of smoke came into view. Not good. Not
good at all. The hybrid engine required a special division of
the fire department once it caught fire.
I took the next bend regardless. As soon as the accident
scene came into view, I braked and prepared to jump out of
the car.
My gaze flitted over the scene. At one section, the
guardrail was missing; behind it, there was nothing for a
long time until I discovered the Sián. Amedea had collided
head-on with a tree, and I saw more scraped metal than I
wanted to.
The red Porsche had gotten away better, parked in the
middle of the road with its front dented. The driver's door
was open.
My Jeep came to a halt, and I jumped out, focused
enough to stuff my phone into my pocket and my gun into
my waistband instead of running headlong to the scene of
the accident. Whoever had been driving the Porsche
couldn't have disappeared.
Faster and faster, I hurried toward the guardrail, only to
have my first suspicions confirmed.
Halfway to the Sián, I spotted a man who was
purposeful enough with a firearm in his hand to tell me his
next plan.
I gritted my teeth. If I raised the gun and pulled the
trigger, he would be dead in the next five seconds. But that
was not satisfactory. Not at all.
I didn't have much time, but I started moving anyway,
my gun tucked back into my waistband. The guy didn't
deserve a mercy killing. I wanted to look him in the eye
when the last bit of life left him. And it would because he
had thought I was the one in the Sián. Because he had
wrecked the car.
Because he had shot at it.
Because… because he had put Amedea in danger.
 Because he had hurt her.
Because it reminded me of a situation, I had never
wanted to live through again.
If she was dead, if she had died because of him… I bit
my tongue, fighting down the memories of Rina and the
voice that told me it was all my fault because I had ignored
her calls, and approached the guy from behind.
On silent soles, like death itself. A muscle in my jaw
twitched when I was no longer four yards away.
He probably didn't hear me coming because the
accident had momentarily taken away his hearing. My
advantage. His end.
I grabbed his shoulder, jerked him around, and disarmed
him with two hand movements. His gun fell to the ground,
and I stared at his face. His nose was bleeding.
And yet, at first glance, you could tell who it was.
"Taddeo, what an unpleasant surprise," I growled,
yanking him closer to me and taking the time to
nonverbally let him know that his last minutes had arrived.
I thought of Amedea, and even though I shouldn't split
my attention, I glanced at the car. A stab went into my
chest when I saw the bloodied hand hanging from the side
of the smashed door.
Anger boiled up inside me.
"You… you should be in the car," Taddeo stammered.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of telling him that he
had pushed his daughter off the road.
"As you can see, I'm standing right in front of you," I
growled in his face. "And this time, nothing can save you."
Without waiting for an answer, I clasped his neck and
squeezed. I felt the resistance of his muscles and tendons,
heard his gasping breath, and saw him turn red, finally
even blue.
But that was not enough. I knew how to break a person's
neck without killing him immediately. Instead, he would
suffer for a while, still fully conscious but unable to do
anything about it.
Relief flooded me when I heard the first bone give way
with a loud crack. I almost gingerly laid him on the grassy
strip, looked down at him. "Someday you will die and I hope
you suffer through every pain in this world by then."
At least when Dario showed up here, Taddeo would
reconsider the decisions in his life.
Released from my duty to finally wipe this man from the
face of the earth, I sprinted to the wreckage. The remains
were still smoking.
I bent through the hole that had recently been an intact
door. Immediately, a hand closed around my upper arm.
"Enzo!" That sounded pretty damn lively. "I'm sorry I
wrecked the Sián."
What that? Was she serious?
More than relieved, I bent over her and took a brief
inventory. Cuts, abrasions from the airbag, the odd bruise.
No protruding bones, severed body parts, or first signs of a
concussion.
"I don't care about the fucking car; you better tell me
you're okay."
"Been better," she replied, a little agonized. "The belt
won't come off."
Before I could say anything in response, I pulled out a
knife, cut it, and then put my arms around her so I could lift
her out of the remains of the Lamborghini.
Blood caked her clothes and hair; there was broken
glass in it and other car remnants. It was a damn miracle
that she was in one piece and alive.
Her head slumped against my shoulder as soon as I
stood up.
"I saw it in the side mirror," she muttered.
I didn't have to ask what she meant. Amedea must have
thought I had already killed her father. She knew that he
had intended to kill me. Not her.
 Nevertheless, I did not hear one reproach from her. Not
a word about it.
As we reached the road, Dario shot around the bend in
his Sián, stopping behind the Jeep. He stormed toward us,
beside himself with rage. I hadn't seen that expression on
his face in a while.
"Is she alive?" he yelled, his eyes fixed on the hole in the
guardrail and the body on the grass verge.
I nodded, barely noticeable. The sinister facade was
beginning to crumble, and I no longer felt like kicking
Taddeo's ass. That was Dario's responsibility now. Instead, I
wanted to fix what I had successfully destroyed not even an
hour and a half ago.
Only to be promptly shown how stupid it was not to
admit certain things to myself.
"You can put me in the car with Dario. I'm sure he'll take
me to the doctor," Dea murmured, still in my arms but
unable to look up at me.
Was she worse off than first suspected? Her statement
underlined the assumption because why the hell would she
want to go to the doctor with Dario, of all people?
"Really. I'm sure that won't inconvenience him."
I let out a warning growl. "Dario? Are you out of your
mind, woman? Dario. Do you think I'm not capable of
getting you safely to a doctor?"
"You've made it very clear you want nothing to do with
me," she hissed.
I would have loved to set her down so I could grab her
by the arms and shake her hard, but that would not have
helped her injuries or the anger I felt toward myself.
"It's not like you care," she added, which was the final
straw.
I set her down in front of the Jeep, leaned her against it,
and took a step back to keep my fist from hammering into
the metal.
 "I don’t care?" I started at her. "It's scaring the living
shit out of me! Ever since Emilio's damn phone call, I've
been blaming myself. I made a similar mistake before, and
we all know how that ended! So don't accuse me of not
caring. Do you know what I wanted to do to your father? I
wanted to tear him apart. I wanted to watch him suffer and
go to bed tonight, knowing that he wouldn't get up in the
morning to hurt you or anyone else. What about you? To
see you like that, covered in blood, shaking, maybe with
serious injuries… to see the fucking car is a total loss, yet
you somehow managed to get out of it alive. Dios mio,
Amedea, every time I lie and tell myself that this between
us is something other than what it actually is, something
happens that makes me realize how stupid I am. Look at
you! You can't say I've done anything good for you in the
time we've been married. I take everything you offer me,
and I'm incapable of giving even the slightest bit back.
Jesus, you stand in front of me and tell me that's all you
want. Shit. How am I not supposed to be the death of you?
How am I not the one who kills his wife a second time?"
To lay all this out for her, where I had kept it to myself
all this time, was liberating. Liberating and frightening
simultaneously because Amedea stared at me as if I had
taken leave of my senses.
"I need you in my life, but you're going to pay a
ridiculously high price for it," I added.
Would she stick to her path after I had destroyed
everything again? Would she give me another chance? Or
had she finally realized that I was not the man she wanted
at her side?
Amedea held her side but continued to look at me with a
steady gaze. "I can give ninety on the days when you only
have ten percent," she replied with a soft smile before
rolling her eyes and slumping forward in my direction.
I caught her.
 "DOCTOR, YOU IDIOT!" Dario shouted and looked at
me, aghast.
I started to move.

"You are aware that Flavia and I heard every second of

your little lecture, yes?" Emilio asked, leaning against the
opposite wall with his arms crossed.
I had rushed Amedea to our family doctor and then to
the villa, fearing I would encounter unpleasant surprises at
Tramonti that I could not handle on my own.
"You could have hung up," I replied darkly.
"I could have. But then I would have missed this insanely
exciting glimpse into your mind and couldn't get on your
nerves with it now."
I looked around and wondered if it was an option to just
walk away. But if I left, it also meant I would move away
from where Amedea was sleeping, and that was not an
option.
So, Emilio had me pinned down.
"You know no one will hold it against you if you start
over? With her."
I also crossed my arms and leaned against the wall but
said nothing.
"There's nothing wrong with starting over at some point
and falling in love with someone again."
"I know."
"Then why is it so hard for you to admit it? That you not
only like her but there's more to it."
I snorted. "Because it means letting go of something I
don't want to let go of."
 "No one will ever replace Rina. No matter in what
respect. But she doesn't have to. Or did she try stain your
wife's memory? They can coexist, you know? She can…
she'll understand and respect that you'll never love her as
much as you love Rina. That's fine, really. You just have to
let it happen."
Before I allowed anything to happen, I wanted her to
wake up. That the doctor was right, and she had only
suffered whiplash, and the exertion, after the adrenaline
had worn off, had knocked her out completely.
"I have no idea where you learned emotional
intelligence, but I wish you had possessed it sooner," I
muttered. Not because of me. But because of Dario.
Because of Flavia. Because of all the times, he had proven
he lacked empathy for other people when he was not
directly involved and even then, he had too often found it
challenging to see more than the superficial.
"You never stop learning, do you?"
"I guess that's true."After all, I had learned that it only
took Amedea to break down the walls around my heart and
evoke the first tender stirrings of emotion in quite a few
years.
I was worried about them. And at the same time,
subconsciously, the reproaches I felt for my own failings
were eating me up.
"You know, I saw her. Rina. Twice since Amedea got
here. Never before. She approves. Approves of her. Kicks
me in the ass for not being stupid enough to push her away
completely. And yet I find it hard to see what she's
supposed to get out of it. What can I possibly offer her? I'm
broken. Broken. I hurt her whenever I get the chance, and
most of the time, I don't even realize it. She takes it and
doesn't let it deter her. What did I do to deserve this? The
goodness of heart behind it."
Emilio looked at me with dark eyes without giving me an
answer. He remained silent for quite a while before
changing position without breaking eye contact with me.
"You brought her here. That's the answer to your question."
With that, he pushed himself off the wall and left,
leaving me alone with the cryptic words and my confusion.
The doctor had left some time ago with precise
instructions, in which cases we were better off going to an
emergency room rather than waiting for him to make it
back here.
I hoped none of the scenarios came to pass.
Quietly, I stepped into the room, closed the door, and
leaned against it. Carlotta had taken care of getting Dea
out of the bloody, filthy clothes earlier.
Amedea's arm was bandaged, and the cut on her
forehead was covered with staples. There was a massive
bruise on her thigh, and the doctor had inserted an IV to
stabilize her circulation and relieve the pain.
Her gaze rested on me. She said nothing. Neither did I.
Nor did I move from my post at the door.
"What I meant earlier wasn't a lie, Enzo," she said softly.
Her voice was weak.
What did she mean? She had not…
"I repressed that," I admitted. After she had practically
lost consciousness in my arms, everything else had become
inconsequential.
"I don't. I remember every word we've spoken since you
got me out of the car."
To my surprise – and concern – she somehow managed
to get herself into a half-sitting position. She pointed to the
empty bed next to her, so I hesitantly approached her.
Narrowing the gap was not a good idea.
"I know we're not exactly ideal for each other. You're
stubborn. And I'm quick-tempered. But I can forgive. And
most of all, I can overlook that most of your reactions result
from the years of avoidance and restraint you've put
yourself through."
 "I don't like how everyone is offering me smart advice
and answers."
"Maybe you should think about it when everyone is
saying roughly the same thing," she replied in a mumble, a
barely noticeable smile on her face.
Did it amuse her that everyone told me what they
thought was best?
"Fiero and Natale will accompany me to Tramonti later.
If everything is all right there, I'll take you home," I said.
And then, I would try my hand at giving her back some
of what she had given me over the past weeks.
OceanofPDF.com
 26

AMEDEA

S omewhere inside me I should have found the

potential for anger. Anger because Vincenzo had
killed my father. Anger because he had put me in
danger with our argument and his stubbornness.
But I found none of that in myself. Instead, there was a
sense of freedom because my father was no longer with us,
and there was no longer anyone to threaten me directly. I
was grateful that he had made this mistake and that Enzo
had taken it as justification for simply breaking his neck.
I was not angry with him, although I would have had
every right to be for other reasons. I much preferred to
forgive him and take pleasure in the fact that he had come
to his senses. Somehow. How was a complete mystery to
me.
That still didn't change the injuries I had sustained in
the accident. I don't know which guardian angel was
watching over me that second, but he had done a damn
good job. I knew what the Sián looked like after it was
peeled from the tree. Just assuming that it was almost
impossible that I was sitting in Enzo's bed today. Alive.
Healthy. With a few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise fit
and unharmed.
Equally surprising was how he had cared for me the last
few days. He cared – just as much as he allowed the guilt
over the accident to eat at him and keep him awake at
night.
It was a scenario he had experienced before, and I didn't
know if I could give him the peace of mind he obviously
needed to get over it.
Was it enough to forgive him? Or did it stir up enough
old feelings to send him back into the past to a version of
himself he'd been fighting so successfully for the past few
weeks?
I turned my gaze to my left, unimpressed that he was
staring at the ceiling above us, lost in his own reflections.
Depending on which way you looked at it, it was both a
blessing and a curse that a single question existed whose
answer was the solution to my mental quandary.
My muscles protested as I carefully turned on my side to
look directly at Vincenzo. His attention moved to me.
I swallowed. Maybe it was more complicated than I had
initially suspected. What was on the tip of my tongue didn't
want to come so easily from my lips, especially not when
Enzo looked at me so inquiringly. As if he could already
read the question in my eyes.
"Now that my father is dead there is no logical reason
for you to continue this marriage. You could have it
annulled," I said.
In the end, it was true. And his answer to it not only
decided the direction we would go in but also clearly state
where we stood.
Vincenzo looked at me as if I had taken leave of my
senses. "Who put that idea in your head, woman?"
I shook my head. "No one. It's logical. There's no more
compulsion for you to put up with me."
"I thought we had talked about this issue. In the
vineyards, for example." He raised an eyebrow. Was he
challenging me to deny it?
"But at that point, dissolving the marriage was not an
option."
 "It's not now either."
"But…"
"But what? I stand by what I said. I won't divorce you,
and I certainly won't marry again. Or have you finally come
to your senses and realized how terribly bad I am for you?"
I didn't know if he said that with a sarcastic undertone
or if he meant it.
"Of course not. Nothing has changed about what I have
said all this time."
"So why the stupid question?"
"Because I'm afraid you're going to tear yourself apart
over the accident and how it happened."
"At least I'm learning from it," he muttered, shaking his
head.
And no one had said it would be an easy learning
process.
"So that's it? We got married out of duty and
compulsion, and now we just decide to keep it that way
because… because we just feel like it?"
Amused, he looked at me. "Looks like it."
OceanofPDF.com
 27

VINCENZO

T he sunlight reflected in the pool, painting ever-

moving patterns on the tile border and on Amedea,
who floated in the water on an air mattress, eyes
closed and one hand hanging in the water.
I took a long moment to look at her and study her
appearance.
She looked relaxed. As if she felt at ease, despite the
scratches and dark spots that still marked her otherwise
flawless skin. It would be a while before everything healed,
and she looked like she did before the accident.
Until then, I would probably remember daily where they
had come from and who was to blame. But it also showed
me she was alive. That my mistake had not sent her to her
death.
Quite apart from that, it continued to give me
satisfaction how long Dario had taken to send Taddeo
Santoro to the afterlife. Amedea knew only the official
version, in which I had killed her father at the accident
scene. The truth, however, was a little different.
I gritted my teeth and allowed myself to consciously
admit how much she meant to me for the first time. That
she meant something to me.
There was no longer just the feeling that I needed her
near me. There was more. And that had not come about
because we had slept together, and she spent every day
with me in this house. No. That had come out of what we
had been through. The things we had been endured shaped
our relationship. The relationship we somehow had,
although no one was forcing us to do be in one anymore.
Quietly, I let myself slide into the water and approached
Amedea until I got hold of the air mattress and simply
pulled it out from under her. She splashed into the water,
only to surface two seconds later, gasping in surprise.
Her angry look hit me.
"You…!"
Water splashed my face.
Shaking my head, I grabbed her to pull her to me with a
jerk. Her cool skin met my heated one. Water beaded off us.
"Be careful what you say next, young lady," I murmured
with a grin.
"Sei fortunato che mi piaci."
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 EPILOGUE

AMEDEA

L ooking for help, I glanced at Emilio and then at

Vincenzo, who were standing some distance away at
the already set table, engaged in quiet
conversation. I, meanwhile, was trapped on my sun lounger
by the pool, Carlotta right next to me.
"Can someone please put me out of my misery?" I cried,
an agonized undertone in my voice. "I can't take this
anymore! You'd think she was having a damn baby and not
me!"
Carlotta looked at me indignantly but then continued
her lecture undeterred. "You should really use something
with a high sun protection factor. Not that you'll get
sunburn on your belly, and…"
Heavens, since the others had learned of the –
admittedly unplanned – pregnancy, there were a lot of
mothers among them. It was all the more reassuring that
Enzo hadn't changed a bit.
No difference in the rough, sometimes brusque
treatment he gave me, and certainly not when it came to
the more horizontal activities.
Nevertheless, there were caring moments, but he
caught me unprepared with those. For example, he ran me
a warm bath or massaged my feet in the evening because I
had problems with my joints from practically the first
minute of pregnancy.
"Then we know who's tending the little ones," Emilio
announced with a broad grin.
I knew what the result would be if the child grew up in
this family. There were at least four men who would teach
the child to handle weapons as early as possible. While
Vincenzo would probably make sure the child was well
versed in all the machinations within the mafia. Carlotta
would introduce the child to the advantages of a life of
luxury and money, and well, the list could be continued
indefinitely; after all, the delivery was also a good three
months away.
At least, that was the scenario in theory because, so far,
everyone firmly believed that Vincenzo's first child would
be a boy. I had not disabused them of the illusion because it
amused me to watch them arguing over names or discuss
which features of the de Archard family it would bear.
I wouldn't have been surprised if Fiero already had a
stroller in the garage for the kid.
"Have you decided on a name, or should we give you
more suggestions?" Natale asked, leaning on the back of
my lounger. Of course, he had to join the clucky faction.
Again I looked silently pleadingly in Vincenzo's
direction. If he didn't free me immediately, I would ensure
he slept outside tonight! At least I had the soft bed for me
alone and would not spoil his sleep with my continuing hot
flashes.
"Maybe I'll call it pain in the ass after his godfather," I
growled, giving him a sharp look.
The only reason I hadn't gotten up and run for the hills
yet was my damn back, combined with my aching feet,
which made it a real struggle to get myself into an upright
position.
 "You look like you're about to kill someone," said Dario,
who had unexpectedly appeared at my side. He reached out
his hand to me, and I gratefully grabbed it so he could pull
me to my feet. "I would love to put my knife at your
disposal. Pregnant woman hosting family massacre sounds
so damn tempting." He grinned wryly, making me laugh.
"Please tell me you're not joining all the over-the-top
hoopla, too."
"I wasn't going to. Gia ordered me weeks ago never to
tell anyone if she ever got pregnant."
"Wise decision from a wise woman," I replied.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I had successfully moved
away from Carlotta and Natale and was close to Enzo.
Dario was already retreating, which left me alone with the
other two brothers.
"You're really making an extreme point of sleeping out
here alone today," I muttered, my eyes on the food in front
of us. I reached for a fork because I needed a piece right
now. With a raised eyebrow, I watched Enzo out of the
corner of my eye. "This borders on treason, leaving me in
the midst of these… these people with rose-colored
glasses."
He laughed. "They only mean well."
"I also mean well, if I gouge anyone's eyes out today."
"Actually, stabbing with forks is Emilio's job," Enzo
replied, catching another nasty look from me.
"You know, and actually, this," I said, gesturing to my
belly, "is your fault. Maybe I should take my frustration out
on you?"
"If that involves you sitting on me…"
Emilio snorted. "Your son will be born with psychological
problems."
I shoved a forkful of cake into my mouth and shrugged.
"The son is a daughter, and if she gets anything from me,
she'll rip your asses up to the ribs by the time she's a year
and a half old at the latest."
 As casually as I had dropped this information, it took a
few seconds for either of them to react. Enzo was the first
to realize what I had said and promptly turned in my
direction, only to scrutinize me from top to bottom.
"What was that just now, maga?"
Again I shrugged, continuing to be more concerned with
the cake than the sex of my child. "You're having a
daughter, not a son," I repeated.
Emilio apparently had enough where Vincenzo was at a
loss for words. "Merda, this changes everything! Who's
going to look after her? Make sure nothing happens to her?
Why the hell didn't you mention this before?"
I rolled my eyes. "Because she'll be fine. She's going to
be just fine. Excellent. Even without a whole gaggle of
worried uncles watching over her like a pack of lion
mommies."
Casually, I let my free hand slide to Enzo's. His was
trembling slightly. I stroked it with my thumb. "She's going
to be fine. I know she will. Besides, you've got plenty of
time to think of a name on your own now, Vince. After all,
no one else will know she's a girl until the birth."
Meaningfully, I looked at Emilio.
He nodded, obviously respecting my wish.
"Would you leave us alone for a moment?" Enzo asked
his brother, who promptly disappeared.
I put the fork aside and put my hand on Enzo's cheek. As
if by itself, his found its way to my belly in a protective
gesture. "You could have mentioned this earlier, you know."
"And risk you not letting me out of the house because
it's more dangerous with a girl in your belly than with a
boy? Out of the question."
"We both know who is overprotective in this family and
who is not." His gaze slid to his sister and Emilio.
I shrugged. "Does it change anything? The gender? It's
still your kid."
 "Actually, it just means that I get the opportunity to see
a smaller version of you grow up. And I'd be lying if I said I
wasn't looking forward to it."
Smiling softly, I pulled him closer so I could kiss him just
as gently. His family would become a plague, that much
was certain. But also that Enzo would become an incredibly
good father. And to experience that, I would put up with
anything.

VINCENZO

"Are you sure you want to take her with you?" Emilio
asked, frowning and looking outside.
"What's wrong with that?" I replied, crossing my arms.
It didn't matter if I left or took her with me; the worry
would remain the same. The only difference was that in one
of these scenarios, I left her in the care of my siblings, and
in the other, I ensured her safety myself.
"So far, no one knows of her existence. You could…"
"Let her grow up the same way as Carlotta?" I gave
Emilio a dismissive sideways glance. I certainly wouldn't
subject my daughter to the same childhood my sister had
gone through.
"At least you never had to worry about her."
"Until you had to," I muttered, shaking my head. No,
leaving her here with the others was out of the question. "I
have no problem showing her the world. And if she knows
what's lurking out there, she'll approach the whole thing
with more sense and respect than Carlotta ever did."
Granted, none of us were predisposed to keeping our
own mortality in mind when we put ourselves in danger,
but Carlotta had overstepped the mark a few times. I often
wondered if it was her way of making up for the years she
had spent in the villa's safety, away from prying eyes.
 "At her age, she's unlikely to understand what this is all
about."
"She doesn't have to. She has a mother who holds her
hand tightly so she doesn't get lost. And she has me so she
can explore everything carefree. I don't see anything wrong
with that." Only the worry that came with it. But that would
probably haunt me even if I hadn't grown up in the mafia,
so it didn't count.
"I'm just trying to give you alternatives. None of us want
anything to happen."
And I wanted it least, whether it involved my wife or my
daughter. But that didn't mean it was a great idea to lock
her up in Tramonti in the villa and keep her away from
daylight.
A psychopath might do that, as my father had done with
Carlotta. But we were talking about a new generation here.
An opportunity to do everything differently, and I would be
hell-bent on returning to old ways when there were so
many more options to discover and exploit.
Despite everything, it didn't mean I would knowingly
risk her life. I was only risking enough to see her grow up
under halfway normal circumstances.
"I don't think there's any child in all of Italy who has as
much protection as she does," I replied, a laugh in my
undertone.
No matter where she went, she had at least one
overseer with her who would not hesitate to kill everyone
in the immediate vicinity just to make sure she got out
alive.
I had never asked Emilio if he remembered his other
sister. Of her story and the cruel brutality that went with it.
I doubted it; after all, he and Dario had been too young and
protected to witness much of it.
Besides, it would not help him loosen up and worry less
about his niece. On the contrary, he would probably only
insist more vehemently on keeping her here while Amedea
and I left for a business trip to the north of Italy.
"One day, she could cost any of us our lives," Emilio
muttered.
He certainly didn't mean that Rina enjoyed the
protection of all of us. It was more about what our lives
would be like if there were more children. More little
people to worry about and protect at all costs.
I would not regret it – to die so that my family survived.
"But today is not the day," I replied prudently, leaving
Emilio and going outside to the terrace. We had talked
enough about how wise it was to take Rina with us, and my
decision stood. Nothing would change, no matter how long
we talked and thought about it.
Amedea leaned against the railing and looked down into
the garden, where Fiero was busy pushing toy cars across
the lawn while Rina watched him with interest.
I put my arm around Dea's waist, pulled her close to my
side, and allowed myself a brief moment of sentimentality.
Part of me still wished I didn't have Dea standing next to
me but Rina. That wish would probably never go away.
Every piece of me knew that I had found something just as
good after finally truly letting Amedea into my life. Into my
closeness.
I had neither wanted this woman nor the child, but in
the end, I could not help but admit that I loved these two
people. And needed them.
"You didn't tell him what we were planning, did you?"
I snorted. "Of course not. He wouldn't let anyone leave
here ever again." As I said this, I leaned toward Amedea,
kissed her temple.
"It's better that way, too, if it continues to be secret,"
she replied thoughtfully.
We had not interrupted the hunt for all the human
scum.. Not two years ago, when Rina was born. Not even
when I learned the child was a daughter instead of a son.
 This task was so deeply embedded in our lives that there
was no way we could let it go. The villa was no longer the
main scene, but there was a bunker deep in the forest that
now housed all the men who fell into our hands but were
not yet ready to take their last breath.
"As long as she doesn't see any of it, I don't care about
the rest," I replied, nodding in the direction of our
daughter, who wouldn't have to experience any of the
cruelty of our world firsthand for a long, long time.
"She won't, Enzo," Amedea replied, reaching for my
hand and squeezing it, "and one day she'll know that her
father made the world a better place."
When you put it in that context she was probably right.
I pulled Amedea into my arms, rested my chin on her
head, and was content to watch Fiero and Rina play.
In this little bubble, we were still in at the moment, our
lives were more than okay.
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