Book Cover By: @writermarie__
Five years after a night of forbidden passion, a powerful mafia Don's violent pursuit of a debt leads him back to the enigmatic dancer unaware that she holds a secret that could shatter his empire: his heir.
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🔞Lyric🔞
Flora was still here. Why was she still here?
Her name alone left a bitter taste in my mouth. I don't like the lil bitch.
And no, It wasn't jealousy, not exactly. It was mostly distrust, a gut feeling that screamed danger when she was near Tristian. And right now, she was way too near.
They were holed up in the kitchen, supposedly going over the plan. The plan to take down Moretti. A plan that, in my humble opinion, had been dissected and reassembled enough times to build a small Lego city. What else could they possibly be discussing?
Tristian had ordered me to stay put in the living room with Trevor. "Keep him company," he'd said. As if a five-year-old's endless chatter about the Teen Titans could distract me from the simmering pot of paranoia bubbling in my stomach.
"Robin can fly, Mommy!" Trevor chirped, oblivious to the storm raging in my mind.
"That's great, baby," I mumbled, my gaze fixed on the kitchen doorway. My leg bounced uncontrollably, a nervous tic I couldn't seem to quell. Were they flirting? Reminiscing about old times? God, the thought alone made my skin crawl. After last night, after the raw honesty and vulnerability we'd shared, I figured we were finally building something real but Flora's presence felt like a wrecking ball aimed straight at the foundation.
How many times could you possibly go over the same damn plan? We knew the layout, the weaknesses, the escape routes. It felt like an excuse, a flimsy pretense to spend alone time together. Time that I couldn't help but imagine filled with stolen glances, lingering touches, and whispered secrets.
Trevor's small hand landed on my bouncing leg, forcing me back to reality. "Mommy, are you scared?" he asked, his big brown eyes filled with concern.
Scared? I scoffed internally. I wasn't scared. I was... furious. "Of course not, baby. Why would I be scared?"
"You're bouncing your leg really fast, and you're eating your nails." He pointed to my hand, where I'd unknowingly been gnawing on my thumbnail.
Heat flooded my cheeks. I dropped my hand, forcing a nervous laugh. "Oh, no, sweetie. Mommy's just... thinking."
He pouted adorably. "You're always thinking."
"Because there's always something to think about." I retorted.
He looked confused, his brow furrowed. Clearly, my adult anxieties were lost on him. He shrugged, turning back to the television, and I felt a pang of guilt. I was letting my insecurities overshadow my son and that wasn't fair to either of us.
A fleeting glimpse of Alex passing by the doorway gave me an idea. "Hey, Alex?" I called out, desperate for a distraction, anything to break free from the suffocating grip of my thoughts.
