Chapter 119

Aurora POV

We decide we might as well salvage the day, so the four of us head down the block to a little bistro with outdoor seating.

The second we sit down and order, Gianna and I fill Luca and Marco in on the history of how and why Camilla’s been awful since day one, how she’s always thought she was entitled to whatever she wanted, and what it was like growing up with her looming over everything like some spoiled, self-appointed queen.

They both listen with that dry amusement they both have, sipping away at their espressos while the sunlight catches the edge of their dark hair.

When we finally pause for air, Marco leans back in his chair. “You want to know the difference between Camilla and a regular person? A regular person isn’t miserable enough to try and ruin someone else’s life just to feel better about my own.”

Gianna grins. “That’s true. And it’s good to know we have your moral support if anything else crazy happens.”

Eventually, the conversation shifts.

Marco and Luca tell us about their life in Italy, in a small-town charm, the warm summers spent on the coast and the smell of the sea, and how happy they both were when Dominic asked them to come to the States in order to “help out the family business”.

There’s a light in Luca’s eyes when he talks about it, and a rare softness in Marco’s smile that makes me genuinely happy for them both.

Gianna and I may have royally fucked them over at one point but it’s nice to know they don’t hold any grudges against us.

Still, guilt gnaws at me over it.

I twirl my fork in the pasta I’ve barely touched. “I still feel bad. For… you know. Drugging you guys before Mexico.”

Gianna chimes in before he can answer. “Oh. Yeah, about that. We’re sorry we kind of suck.”

But Luca just waves it off.

“Do not worry about it. Water under the bridge. However…” He levels a look at both of us. “Do not ever do that shit again. Yes? Clear?”

“Crystal clear,” Gianna and I say at the same time, trading sheepish smiles.

We linger for a while after that, enjoying the food and the quiet hum of the city. It feels almost normal, like we’re just four friends having lunch, not people tangled in the mess of mafia politics and family drama.

But then Luca’s phone rings.

He glances at the screen, his jaw tightening before he answers. “Yeah?” A pause, then he stands, tossing cash on the table. “Of course. We are on our way.”

He ends the call and looks at us. “Dominic needs us ASAP. We will drop you two back at the penthouse. Gianna, you will need to find a ride. Shouldn’t be a problem for you though, no?”

“I’ll call my dad and have him send me a driver. So, we’re all good.”

He nods. “Excellent.”

And just like that, the bubble of calm pops.

Whatever’s waiting for Dominic is big enough to pull everyone back into the storm.

Dominic POV

Dominic’s day had been one long, unrelenting headache.

From the moment he stepped into the meeting room that morning, it felt like every single problem that could’ve possibly landed on his plate had decided today was the day to make that happen.

Most of it traced back to Matteo—the man who had been a thorn in Dominic’s side for months now since Theo’s death. Lately, he’d escalated from being an irritant to an outright liability.

Dominic had thought Matteo would eventually get tired, maybe even retreat into irrelevance after finding no leads tracing him to anything relating to his son’s death.

But apparently, he was more determined than Dominic had given him credit for. His latest stunt? Stirring up dissent among the ranks in order to sow seeds of doubt, whispering into the ears of the men whose loyalty Dominic had already been having a hard time cementing.

And the cherry on top?

Matteo was still going strong not giving up digging into what had really happened to his son even after all of the road blocks placed in front of him. No matter how much Dominic tried to bury that particular truth, Matteo’s obsession burned hot enough to scorch everyone in his path.

Now his vendetta wasn’t just personal, it was becoming political and motivated.

The Guerrero family could not afford infighting.

Not now.

Not when Dominic was trying to hold the city together with a mix of calculated alliances and sheer force of will while still finding a way to take out the Carusos. Matteo clearly hadn’t gotten the memo or maybe he had and just didn’t give a damn anymore to be the head of the family like he’d so desperately wanted in the first place.

By the time Dominic finally wrapped up the last of the day’s damage control, he felt completely wrung out. Every nerve in his body was still humming with the aftershock of the arguments, the threats, and the constant mental calculations he’d had to make just to keep his position from slipping a single inch.

When the penthouse door clicked shut behind him, the silence was almost deafening, just the low hum of the air conditioning and the faint scent of Aurora’s perfume drifting from the down the hallway.

He found her in their bedroom, curled up on her side in the middle of their bed, the covers tangled loosely around her legs. Her breathing was deep and even, lashes resting against her cheeks.

She looked peaceful in a way that made something in his chest unclench.

He hadn’t doubted she was safe after being asked to allow her to go dress shopping,. The twins would’ve burned down half the city before letting anyone get close enough to hurt her he was sure of that.

But now seeing her here, unharmed and tangled up in their sheets, tangible in the low light of their bedroom, still brought a wave of relief he couldn’t quite explain.

Quietly, he stripped down and slid into bed behind her, the mattress dipping under his weight. The heat of her body seeped into him instantly, and he let himself exhale for what felt like the first time all day.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, grounding himself in the feel of her.

For a moment, he was content just to hold her. Feeling the rhythm of her breathing and the way her hair brushed against his jaw as she tilted her head to nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck.

The faint, familiar curve of her hips under his palm made him squeeze them gently.

But then his hand began to move, slow, deliberate strokes over her stomach, her ribs, down the smooth line of her thigh. He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled the faint trace of her shampoo.

She stirred under his touch, a faint sound slipping from her lips as her body arched back toward his. Her eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, but when she turned her head toward him, her lips found his without hesitation.