My father will get a proper heads-up after attempting to engage with Amara, so here I am, standing in front of his house. Though a few days have slipped by since my lunch with Amara, the promise I made to myself still lingers. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

“Damn, gonna miss living with you , even though you were always caught up in work,” Rosa gazes at me, letting a short laugh at the irony , as we gear up to climb the stairs in front of the house. Her words inject a tinge of guilt into me.The month passed and she had to return home as father said .

“Rosa, promise me you’ll wait patiently. That man won’t lay a finger on you. Not while I’m still breathing. Got it?” I grip her shoulders, and she meets my eyes with faith. I know she’s scared, but she needs to summon strength to prevent herself from bolting.

“I’ll try.” She nods, and I release her. We swing the door open, and Armando trails in, marking the last to step into the house I once called home. Rafaele descends the circular stairs, a smile breaking across his face at the sight of Rosa. Angelina lounges at the round table on the left, her gaze casually lifting to observe our entrance.

Rosa rushes to her, and Angelina conjures a smile as the girl envelops her shoulders from behind. I wish I could exchange a few words with Angelina, but it seems I’ll have to hold off. Rosa and Rafaele are still in the dark about her impending marriage to Franco. Given that he plans to tie the knot after I ascend to the role of boss, the revelation can wait.

My steps ascend the grand wooden staircase, heading to my father’s office. Not a nod of welcome for Rosa, let alone for me. Well, it’s nothing groundbreaking. Either way, I’ll make sure to give him a welcome he won’t forget.

I kick the damn door and swagger in, arms snug in my jacket.

“Can’t you walk in normally? Don’t act like an animal,” he lifts his eyes from some papers, shooting me a condescending look. I don’t bother with a reply; instead, my leg connects with the table, sending it crashing over him. I encircle the table, reaching his upper body, the rest buried beneath it. He winces, attempting to shove the table away.

“Listen up. If you ever get near that girl, I’ll take my sweet time teaching you a lesson. Consider this a heads-up.”

“You won’t dare. I’m your father,” his eyes narrow, a mocking grin triggering my boiling anger.

“If you’re banking on that, you might as well consider yourself six feet under.” I draw my dagger, swiftly grazing over his middle finger as I press his palm to the ground.

“Next time, this finger won’t just be grazed. Got it? Maintain your distance, old man. It’s for your own good.”

My gaze drills into him, and I can tell he’s getting the memo by the furrow in his brow. He won’t cool off; if anything, he’ll become more audacious. But the warning is my way of tossing him a lifeline, a chance to survive in the end.

After I make my exit, I catch the distant sound of his colorful language and the impact of something hitting the wall. I’d bet it’s the table. I’m silently grateful that the damn thing is so heavy he couldn’t toss it around easily.

Descending the stairs, I’m in the mood to share some more time with my siblings. Tonight is earmarked for a family dinner, and as I step into the kitchen, our chef is busy setting the plates. Rosa, Angelina, and Rafaele are already there, eyes locked on the ScacceRagusane (Sicilian Stuffed Flatbread) that’s still steaming hot.

Oh God! I really missed this dish.

“Dam, doesn’t this look and smell heavenly?” Rosa eyes me with that sparkly enthusiasm.

“Indeed,” my words hitch a bit as I swallow in anticipation of the taste.

“You’re salivating, Damiano.” Angelina frowns, and I can’t help but chuckle at her expression. She’s almost always serious, but she’s got a funny side.

“True.” I slide into the chair between Angelina and Rosa.

“Have you nailed the culprit yet?” Angelina turns my way, her black eyes scrutinizing me. Sometimes I swear she’s playing the mom role.

“I need more proof to cuff him.”

“Him? So you know who’s behind it?” She raises an eyebrow.

She’s clueless that if it were anyone else in Amara’s spot, nabbing them would be a walk in the park, and their existence would be erased by the next sunrise.I opt to maintain my silence, my plan to pin the blame on Salvatore still in the works.

“Just wait to get the news from the Commission when I will drag him in chains.”

“No thanks… I don’t want to witness that… but I am curious who did this. Wiping out all our guys and grabbing the stash in such a short span. I mean, you didn’t take more than 30 minutes to get back to the warehouse. It’s insane !”

She’s got a point. Even though I nabbed Amara, she managed to wipe out almost all the men on her own in such a short time. And Terzo did his job well, keeping a tight leash on the three guys carrying the drugs.

She swivels towards the table and grabs a slice of what I call ‘rolled-up pizza.’

Dad’s a no-show downstairs, and I chow down until I’m satisfied. After a while, I glance at my phone.

“I’ve gotta go.” I shoot up in a rush, giving our chef, Suzanne, a peck on the hand. “Thanks for the grub.”

Angelina mutters, “What’s gotten into him…” as I swing the front door open. Outside, rain’s pouring, but my jacket’s got a hood, and I toss it over my head. Striding to the car with purpose, I’m already in motion, headed towards Paolo’s company.

I pull up shortly, parking a good distance from the building. Weather be damned, I’ve got to hoof it barefoot. Raindrops tap my cheeks, and my black pants get soaked near my shoes as I make my way into the building.

I glance at the cameras, both of them conveniently deactivated. Slipping soundlessly down the stairs, I reach the first level. No voices, just a lone gunshot followed by an eerie silence. I open and close the door like a shadow. Paolo’s office reveals a silhouette in the dim light.

My steps traverse the space, passing by the couches on the right side. The door’s ajar, and I close the gap to the girl seated in front of me. Her back is petite, a gun firmly clutched in her left hand, resting against her body. Lost in thought, she seems oblivious to my approach.

I snatch the hand that’s gripping the gun and muffle her mouth with my right hand. Her back collides with my chest, and she wriggles to break free, clutching my hand covering her lips.

“It’s me,” my voice whispers as I lean down to her ear. Amara ceases her struggles, going silent. I release her hand and uncover her mouth; my arms find a resting place on her shoulders in a tight hug.

“Care to spill why you’re lurking around?” My breath brushes against her neck as I hold her snug in the embrace.

“I could say the same thing.” Her voice carries a hint of anger, and I get it. I’ve caught her in the act once again. She probably despises me for uncovering her supposed secret moves.

“I am here to protect you.”

That’s my motive for being here. I’m not particularly keen on digging into why she’s pulling these stunts. I’ve got my hunches. Besides, it’s not like she’s causing me any headaches with her little escapades.

Honestly, the sight of Paolo dead in front of me, perched on his chair, with blood lingering from the bullet hole in his forehead, didn’t hit me that hard.

“Why do you protect me?” Her hand is gripping my wrist as if begging me to tell her. I know she wants to find out badly. I also know that even if she asks, she might know my answer. Girls are pretty perceptive at sensing if you have feelings for them.

“You need protection, Bittercandy.”

I’m not about to spill my feelings to her right now; no intention of dragging her into that territory. I sense she might bolt if I drop it on her.

Amara turns on her heel, and I reckon I can peek through her facade. Behind the material, she’s probably wearing a frown. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and the height difference gives her this adorable look. She’s in need of some protection, that’s for sure.

“Are you truthful?” Her lips, healed now, move, attracting my attention.

I don’t want to lie nor tell her the truth. “I am not.” My smirk makes her bite her lips.

I know she is frustrated. And I will have my fun with it. I am planning to get her sweeter side tonight, given that I have a good opportunity holding her in my arms. Not to mention that she seemed to want to talk for real. Is this mask helping her forget about her other one that she usually keeps? Like the invisible one? Maybe…

“Tell me the truth.” She says in an almost begging way, and I am really holding back from slamming my mouth on hers.

“You can’t handle it.” I tease her, my smirk making her glare at me. She is really more endearing without even trying. Damn her… damn me for having these urges.

“…I can.” She hesitates, but her mouth conveys that she really is willing to take the risk in knowing the truth. I like this side of hers. Even though she knows it’s dangerous, she is willing to go through it, even though she might feel a little scared.

I press my lips against hers, holding back the urge to be a bit more intense. I’m up for giving her a taste of the truth if she’s down for the risk. My hands find their way to either side of her neck, and our lips engage in a little exploration, waiting for her vibe to sync with mine.

Finally, she reciprocates, and it’s like she’s breaking free from invisible chains, gripping my jacket like she’s pulling me into a vortex. Damn, I love the realness in her. Her lips are moving with a craving, and if she keeps this up, I might not be able to keep my cool.

This darn mask is making kissing a bit of a challenge, but I’m soaking it all in. Her lips are plush, and she’s radiating heat under my touch. I’m itching to savor her mouth just the way I like, but I’ve promised myself to take it slow. Still, I gently slide my tongue along her lower lip, as if asking permission to dive deeper.

I’m digging the fact that she seems as desperate as I am, a hint of sadness lingering in as she begins to waver, still yanking me in closer with those hands. Hell no, I’m not letting her slip away. Why am I getting the vibe that she’s thinking of throwing in the towel, on me, on what we’re feeling?

Judging by how she kissed me, I’m not the only one yearning for something more. But she pulls away, urging me to stay a bit longer. She catches her breath and locks eyes with me, dead serious. Whatever decision she’s made from this kiss, I’m clueless.

“I will kill your father.” The bomb drops, and I’m caught off guard. Didn’t see that coming. But there’s this hunch that she’s still hoarding more secrets.

“I thought so.” I shoot her a small smile, trying to convey that I couldn’t care less about whatever she’s holding back.

“I will start a war.” She spills the beans, making sure I grasp the magnitude of her master plan. It’s like she’s telling me to think twice before picking her.

“Doesn’t matter.” I brush her cheek with my thumb, her face still within my palms.

“Damn it…” That’s what had her hesitating. I hope I gave her the assurance she needed. She probably didn’t predict that I’m too smitten to care about the drama.

“Get used to having me as your damn shield.” I declare briefly before crashing my lips onto hers, and she returns the favor with equal passion. Our lips just click, and she tastes even sweeter.

My thumb lifts the mask over her nose, and I murmur, “I won’t take it off.” Her lips eagerly reconnect with mine as she pulls me closer. Her skin is warm, and I’m glad to touch it freely without that pesky mask. A smirk creeps onto my face as I notice her cheeks blushing.

My tongue slips into action, dancing with hers. She moans, caught up in the rhythm, her hand gripping my jacket. I wonder if she can feel my heart racing. Well, I hope she does, ‘cause it’s all out there. I nibble on her lower lip, and she arches, soaking in the sensation.

Damn, I love how she lets it all out. Her lips move with a craving to taste more of me, and if she keeps going, I might not be able to play it cool.

The sound of steps echoes subtly from the stairs, and in my head, I’m tossing around some mental swear words. I feel like cursing out the soon-to-arrive individual for barging in and wrecking the perfect moment I had going.

I hastily peck her lips, gently pushing her away. I pop her mask back on, whispering, “Let me go, someone is coming.” She releases my jacket, and I duck behind the shelves. She shoots me a quick glance before exiting the office, dimming the lights on the table.

I follow her with my eyes, and a dude swings open the front door.

Terzo. This guy is going to get a piece of me someday. How dare he ruin my moment!

They exit, and I lick my lips, satisfied.

Damn, she tastes sweet…