STEFANO

It's late at night when I get an urgent call from my brother, summoning me to one of our clubs in Sicily. I've only been back on the island for a few days, my focus consumed by the hunt for Petrova. Her sudden flight when I tried to confront her confirmed my worst suspicions - the Kazan gang is behind the recent string of attacks on our operations. The realization sends a chill down my spine. I fucking wiped them out. They weren't supposed to exist anymore. But the intel I've gathered over the past week paints an unsettling picture: Petrova has rebuilt the gang from the ashes, stronger and more ruthless than ever.

I climb out of bed to get dressed, my movements sharp with barely contained fury. As I yank on my clothes, I pull out my phone to bark orders at Samuel to get the car ready. The mere mention of his name sends a fresh wave of anger crashing over me as I remember how Andrea's so-called friend Ivan helped her give Samuel the slip.

That rat bastard. I already despised the guy, but now, knowing he's the one who enabled Andrea to end up in that godforsaken neighborhood? My hatred for him ratchets up tenfold, burning white-hot in my veins.

The memory of our argument that night floods back, unbidden. I can still see Andrea's retreating form, disappearing into her room without so much as a backward glance. The anger that had coursed through me then resurfaces, hot and potent as molten lava. How dare she walk away like that? After putting herself in such danger without a word of explanation?

I rake a hand through my hair, my jaw clenching so tight it aches. What the fuck did she mean by saying I wouldn't look at her the same? As if anything could change the fact that she's the most beautiful woman in the world to me, the one who makes my stone heart tremble.

But then I remember her tear-filled eyes and my anger falters. I've only seen her that vulnerable once before - during that panic attack in the elevator. The connection between these moments nags at me, refusing to let go. It's why I've had my men do a background check on Andrea, focusing on the last five years. I said I'd wait for her to explain things to me but I can't anymore with her ending up in places where her life is at risk. I've even assigned someone to keep tabs on her while she's back home.

There's something lurking in her past, something that happened during those years she avoided Italy. The mystery of it gnaws at me, fueling my determination. I'll get to the bottom of it one way or another. Whatever secrets Andrea's hiding, I will uncover them. Even if I have to burn down the whole bloody world to find out.

***

I step out of the car as it pulls up to our club, the neon lights casting an eerie glow on the rain-slicked streets. With a sense of foreboding, I make my way down to the basement where Thomas said he'd be waiting. The air grows thick with the stench of blood and sweat as I descend the concrete steps.

The scene that greets me is straight out of some people's nightmares, but it's my everyday life. Thomas stands before a man who looks barely alive, his face a grotesque mask of bruises and lacerations. It's a miracle he's still breathing.

"So what's up?" I ask, standing beside Thomas.

Thomas's eyes glint with a cold fury. "You know how we doubted if the Kazan gang was back, even though every sign pointed to it?" He doesn't wait for my response, grabbing a fistful of the man's hair and wrenching his head back. The man lets out a pitiful whimper. "Look no further," Thomas snarls.

I stare at the broken man. "Why?"

"Because I caught this bastard trying to blow up our club," Thomas spits, each word dripping with venom. "If we hadn't caught him, you'd be standing in ashes right now."

The revelation returns that fury to my bones. "Fucking bastards!" I turn to my brother, my mind already racing ahead. "Once you're done burning him alive, meet me in my office so we can discuss."

I spin on my heel and exit the basement, the man's ragged breathing echoing in my ears. Upstairs, I pace the length of my office, my thoughts consumed by the resurrected threat of the Kazan gang.

Minutes later, Thomas returns, the stench of burning flesh clinging to him like a second skin. There's a sadistic gleam in his eye that I know all too well. This is why I leave the dirty work to him - he revels in it in a way I never could.

"I'll need to shower before I go home," he says, dropping into the chair opposite my desk. "I don't want an earful from Mom."

"You should," I agree, rising to pour us both a much-needed drink. The whiskey burns my throat, but it's a welcome pain.

Thomas takes a sip of his bourbon, his brow furrowed in thought. "So what's the plan now that we are fully sure who we're up against?"

I release a heavy sigh. "We need to get inside. We need to find out how the fuck they were able to rebuild and how strong they are."

"Send Samuel," Thomas suggests, but I shake my head.

"No, someone might recognize him." My mind races through our options, limited as they are. "What about Victor?"

"The new guy?" Thomas raises an eyebrow. "He's only been with us, what, two or three years?"

"He's good at what he does," I counter, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "And he's our best shot at infiltrating their ranks without raising suspicion."

Thomas considers this for a moment, then nods slowly. "Let's think it over," he says, and I murmur my agreement.

ANDREA

Weeks blur by in a haze of work, each day bleeding into the next as I throw myself into my new role with a fervor bordering on obsession. It's the only way I know to keep my mind from wandering to thoughts of him, from dwelling on the ache in my chest that throbs like a festering wound because of him. After two grueling weeks, I finally admit defeat and decide to hire an assistant, setting up interviews for the following week.

As I close my laptop with a weary sigh, my phone chimes with a text from Aurora, reminding me of her upcoming birthday. The sight of her name on the screen sends a pang of longing through me, and I have to blink back the sudden sting of tears. As much as I adore Aurora, every interaction with her is a bittersweet reminder of the man I'm desperately trying to forget.

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him with every fiber of my being. Stefano. The name alone is enough to make my heart clench painfully in my chest. We haven't spoken since I left Rome; not a single call or text was exchanged between us. Aurora keeps me updated on how he's doing, but it's a poor substitute for hearing his voice, for seeing the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

Work has become my solace, a way to numb the constant ache of his absence. I can't afford to let my thoughts stray to him, not when Santiago has given me this incredible opportunity. I refuse to let him down by mooning over a man who clearly doesn't want me.

As if on cue, my phone rings, Santiago's name flashing on the screen.

"Hi, Santiago," I answer, hating the way my voice trembles.

"Hey, how are you?" His tone is warm, familiar, and for a moment, I can almost pretend everything is normal.

"I'm good, and you?" I force a note of cheer into my voice, praying he can't hear the strain.

"I'm good too. Could you give me Emily's number?" The request catches me off guard, and I feel a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

"Why would you want your ex-girlfriend's number?" I tease, already knowing the answer. Even after all these years, it's clear Santiago is still carrying a torch for Emily.

"Do I have to give you a reason?" he grumbles, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone.

"Yes, you do." I can't resist needling him a bit, the familiar banter a welcome distraction from the hollow ache in my chest.

"Andrea, I know why you think I want her number, but that's not the reason. Some of her things are still with me from when we were dating. I want to call her to come and pick them up, nothing more." His explanation rings hollow, and we both know it.

"Wow, I never knew you were such a good person. You kept her things with you all these years. Amazing!" I lay the sarcasm on thick, knowing full well he's just looking for an excuse to see her again. He could easily mail her belongings back, but where's the fun in that?

"Andrea, will you give me her number and stop with your rubbish talk." Santiago's exasperation is palpable, and I stifle a laugh.

"Alright, I will send it to you on one condition." I pause for dramatic effect, savoring the moment.

"What do you want?" He sounds wary and with good reason.

"You have to tell me why you guys broke up." The words hang heavy in the air, the weight of years of unanswered questions pressing down on us both.

"Not this again, Andrea. Just drop it. It's better you don't know." There's an edge to his voice now, a warning I know better than to ignore.

"I want to know, and the more you guys hide it from me, the more curious I am." I press on, undeterred by his reluctance.

"Andrea, just let it go. The reason we broke up is better kept a secret. Trust me." His tone is final, brooking no argument.

I sigh, the fight draining out of me. "I really want to know, but I can't force you to tell me. I'll send you her number."

"Thank you." The relief in his voice is palpable.

"You're welcome. Bye, I love you."

"Me too, Sis," he says softly before hanging up.

I stand from my desk, my legs stiff from hours of sitting. As I make my way out of the building, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, all circling back to the man I can't seem to escape.

Lost in my own head, I almost don't notice the figure leaning against my car. The sight of him in an all-black suit, the fabric clinging to his lean frame, makes my heart stutter in my chest. It can't be...

"St-" The name dies on my lips as I draw closer, realization crashing over me like a bucket of ice water. "Ivan," I say, my voice hollow even to my own ears.

"Hello, Andrea." His smile is blinding as he pulls me into a hug, oblivious to the disappointment coursing through my veins.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, forcing a smile as we pull apart. Ivan and I have been chatting more over the past few weeks.

"I missed you, so I came to see you." His words send a jolt through me, but it's a pale imitation of the electricity I crave.

"Oh, that's nice." My smile feels brittle, a flimsy mask for the turmoil raging inside me.

"Have you eaten dinner?" Ivan's eyes are bright with hope, and I feel a stab of guilt for wishing he were someone else.

"No." The word tastes like ash on my tongue.

"Great, I got a reservation at a nice place." He grabs my hand, guiding me into the car with a gentleness that makes my chest ache. As he slides in beside me, his smile wide and eager, I have to look away.

As the car pulls away from the curb, I stare out the window, my eyes burning with unshed tears. Even after all this time, there's still no word from Stefano. No sign that he even thinks of me at all.

I force another smile onto my face, the muscles straining with the effort. As Ivan chatters away beside me, his voice fading into background noise, I can't help but wonder if this is all there is. If the feelings I thought we shared was nothing more than a beautiful lie, a cruel trick of fate designed to break me in the end.