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PROLOGUE
Tommaso
As we approach the restaurant's entrance, the air shifts with an ominous weight. I stop and pull Ella back towards me. “What’s wrong now?” her tone is stern. There is a split second of confusion before I am able to respond.
Then, a deafening roar shatters the bustling scene.
I feel the heat and pressure, and then everything goes silent for a heartbeat. The world pauses, and I realize I'm on top of Ella, shielding her from the explosion.
The shockwaves ripple through the air, and I struggle to make sense of the devastation around us. Black smoke clouds the air, making it difficult to breathe. I cough and struggle to regain my bearings. She lies beneath me, and uncertainty settles on my chest like a suffocating shroud.
My hands tremble slightly as I reach for her. Why isn’t she moving? God, no. Please. No.
The choking trail of burning wood and the distant wail of sirens form a jarring opus, drowning out any hope of clarity. I try to wake her up but she remains unresponsive. I look at my phone on the ground. Fuck! The screen’s completely shattered.
I search for Francesco but see nothing past the smoke. “Open your eyes, Ella,’ I pick her up and bring my head closer to her chest. Before I can check her heartbeat, a woman runs out of the wreckage, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her voice gets gargled with the blood oozing from her throat, and she falls at my feet.
I gather Ella into my arms, her minute body light against my chest. The rhythmic thud of sirens merges with the cadence of my racing heart as I carry her away from the remnants of the explosion to the nearest bench. Its surface is cool beneath my fingers. Gently, I lay her down. Her eyes remain closed, a haunting stillness that raises my concern.
“Fuck! FUCK!” I can’t hear my own voice. I gambled with her safety. My heart starts hammering in my chest. And I lost.
“Say something, please.” I press my fingers against the pulse point on her neck, seeking a reassuring throb. Nothing. I hover over her, my gaze fixed on her face.
I cannot name my own feelings.
Despair isn’t even close.
It is as if somebody has ripped my heart out.
Chapter One
TOMMASO
Two weeks earlier
“Your guests are waiting in the VIP lounge, Don Tommaso,” my underboss informs me.
I step into the VIP loft. It provides a discreet perch to observe the night's proceedings.
So far, so good.
I smile from the loft at my esteemed guests—a high-profile real estate magnate known for his connections in construction, and a stock trader with ties to the highest financial circles.
“Buonasera, gentlemen. I trust the evening finds you well.” I step down into the VIP lounge, acknowledging their presence with a nod.
“Tommaso, always a pleasure. Your establishment never fails to impress,” Vincent says with a wry grin on his face.
“I’m glad you like it,” I pat him on the shoulder.
“Tiberio would have been proud,” Antonio smiles at me. I smile back at hearing my father’s name. Antonio was his closest friend and is the person I have trusted the most since his death.
“The papers for the new plaza construction have been a hassle, but I've greased the right palms. Everything's on track,” he adds.
The dialogue shifts seamlessly between business and the night's entertainment. A server approaches with a bottle of fine Italian wine and pours it into crystal glasses.
“Salute,” I raise my glass first. “To alliance and success,” I remark, a nod to the code governing our interactions.
The conversation with them continues, disrupted by the occasional clink of wine glasses and the low hum of the club below. The fragrant haze of cigars lingers in the air. Lorenzo, my arms dealer, comes in with a message.
