I looked over my shoulder to see Jace adjusting his cufflinks.
"You ready?" I asked him what he would typically ask .
He nodded. "Ready."
Here goes nothing...
There were guests waiting downstairs.
Right at the doorway, there was a giant frad photograph of Don Vittorio with a book placed on the shelf underneath in between two flower vases. Rocco, Jace’s brother’s picture was right next to his too.
He was so handso.
I couldn’t help but wonder why his pictures weren’t hung everywhere like his father’s.
My heart ached for how young he was when he passed on.
It was a solemn gathering filled with warm smiles that didn’t exactly reach the eyes of everyone.
I stood next to Jace all through as he spoke to the guests.
His voice carried authority but softened with grief. If anyone else had been speaking, I would have called it rehearsed, but with Jace, I knew he ant every word. This wasn’t just for appearances. He had loved his father in his own complicated way, even if half of that love was weighed down by resentnt and chaos.
I stayed quiet, my hand brushing against the edge of my clutch, observing. My heart felt heavy, not because of Don Vittorio (I an he had been the man who destroyed my family) but because of the man standing beside . Jace was armored tonight, but I could feel the faint cracks in him.
After his short speech, people mingled quietly, glasses of wine in hand. Candles flickered, soft music played, and the murmur of polite conversation filled the hall. I tried to breathe, to relax, to remind myself this wasn’t about .
But the mont the double doors opened again, all that fragile calm shattered.
Ricardo.
Enzo.
And behind them, a woman I thought I hadn’t seen before... slender, elegant, dressed in black silk, with a veil pulled just far enough to reveal the striking lines of her face. Giulietta.
Plastic surgery sure looked good on her.
The air in the room changed instantly. I felt Jace stiffen beside , his fingers twitching as though resisting the urge to reach for a weapon instead of my hand.
Whispers rippled through the crowd, subtle but undeniable.
"They weren’t invited," I whispered under my breath.
"No," Jace muttered back, jaw tight. "They weren’t."
Every eye turned toward them as Ricardo strolled forward, a smirk playing on his lips, Enzo shadowing him like a wolf who had finally scented blood. Giulietta trailed them with an unsettling calm, as if she were the one orchestrating the whole disruption.
The audacity of it all made my stomach twist.
"Jace Romano," Ricardo’s voice was deceptively warm as he raised his glass he picked up from a server as soon as he walked in. "What a beautiful way to honor my dear brother. Fifteen years. Ti does fly."
The tension in the room thickened. Nobody dared to speak. Nobody dared to move.
And just like that, I knew this night was no longer about rembrance. It was about war waiting to break loose.
~Jace~
I should have seen this coming.
Ricardo had a way of crawling out from shadows at the worst possible tis. Enzo was predictable—a spoiled brat with too much arrogance and too little skill. But Giulietta... her presence twisted sothing in my chest. Not because I cared for her, but because I knew what she represented: unfinished history, betrayal that reached farther back than even Mira realized.
I kept my face unreadable, though inside I was seething.
They dared show up here? In my city? On my father’s rembrance?
"Mira," I murmured without looking at her, "stay close."
She nodded once, her chin tilting up in that stubborn way that almost made smirk. Even here, even in danger ad animosity, she was fire.
"Ricardo." My voice carried through the room, cold steel. "You weren’t invited."
His grin widened, mockingly polite. "Family doesn’t need an invitation."
"Family doesn’t betray blood."
The silence that followed was razor-sharp.
Enzo chuckled under his breath, but one look from silenced him. He wasn’t a threat. He never was. He was just a pawn, a loud one at that. The real venom was in Ricardo’s words and Giulietta’s eyes, cool and calculating as they swept the hall.
"I see you’ve gotten your queen back," Giulietta finally spoke, her gaze settling on Mira with unsettling interest. "She’s beautiful, Jace. Vittorio would have approved."
I stepped forward, instinctively shielding Mira. "You don’t get to speak his na in this house."
"House?" Ricardo drawled. "Ah, but Jace, that’s the thing about houses. They don’t always stand the test of ti. Sotis the foundation cracks. Sotis the roof caves in. And sotis..." He sipped his wine, eyes glinting. "...sotis, it burns."
A murmur swept through the guests.
I clenched my jaw, every muscle in my body screaming to drag them out and end this farce in blood. But not tonight. Not in front of witnesses. Not with Mira watching.
"This is a night of rembrance," I said evenly, though my voice trembled with restrained fury. "If you ca here to start a war, then you’ve chosen the wrong battlefield."
Ricardo smiled as if he’d already won. Enzo smirked. Giulietta only tilted her head, studying like she could peel away my armor with her eyes alone.
And in that mont, I knew.
This wasn’t over.
This was only the beginning.
~
The night ended on a sour note for . As the guests poured out, my mother made sure our unwanted guests were comfortable in guestrooms.
There was an evident scowl on my face.
They could have stayed in their various hos to honor the dead if they really wanted to. But I knew them well enough they were only here to stir up havoc.
I loosened my tie as I moved through the halls, staff bowing their heads carefully out of my way. Their eyes held that sa nervous flicker, the one they always wore when danger was thick in the air. They felt it too.
"Mira," I muttered under my breath, scanning the dispersing crowd until I found her across the room. She was in quiet conversation with my mother, her posture graceful, her smile polite, but her eyes... her eyes found mine instantly, reading the way no one else could.
She excused herself and ca to , sliding her hand against my arm. "You look like you’re about to explode," she whispered.
"That’s because I am," I admitted, keeping my voice low. "Ricardo, Enzo... they didn’t co here to pay respects. They ca here to watch lose control."
Her brow furrowed, a flicker of worry there, but she masked it with defiance. "Then don’t give them what they want."
Easier said than done. My blood was already boiling. "I won’t. But I’m not letting them roam my house like wolves in sheep’s clothing either."
Before Mira could answer, my mother appeared, calm as ever. "Jacopo." Her voice was firm but careful, the way it always was when she didn’t want to ignite further. "Let them stay tonight. It would only make things worse if you threw them out."
I clenched my jaw. "Mother—"
"No." She cut off with a rare sharpness. "Listen to . You may be Don now, but you’re still my son. Ricardo is dangerous, Enzo even more so. Giulietta..." she exhaled through her nose, her expression hardening, "Giulietta is poison wrapped in silk. Do not underestimate her. If you go charging into a fight tonight, you’ll be walking straight into their trap."
I hated that she was right. I absolutely hated it.
My hand brushed over Mira’s back, grounding myself with her presence. "They won’t get away with this," I said, my tone clipped.
"You’re damn right they won’t," my mother replied, eyes burning into mine. "But not tonight." With that, she left us standing there, her figure retreating into the shadows of the hallway.
Mira sighed softly, her fingers curling tighter around my arm. "She’s right, Jace. You can’t let them bait you."
I looked down at her. She was right, too. But that didn’t change the storm raging inside .
Later, when the house had quieted and the last of the guest had left, I found myself in my study.
I poured myself a glass of whiskey, staring at the frad photograph of him on the wall. Vittorio Romano. A tyrant. A king. A man who ruled with fear, who tore apart everything he touched.
"Bastardi," I muttered, taking a sharp sip as the thoughts of my supposed family filled my mind.
They thought they could break . Ricardo with his fake piety, Enzo with his greed, Giulietta with her poison. They thought because I was my father’s son, they could play the sa gas with .
But I wasn’t Vittorio. I was worse.
I set the glass down and braced my hands on the desk, my reflection glaring back at in the polished wood. "Co at ," I growled under my breath. "Co into my house, plot under my roof, breathe my air. I’ll burn you all where you stand."
A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. Mira. She stepped in quietly, her hair down, her robe loose around her shoulders, but her eyes sharp.
"You’re still awake," she said softly.
"Couldn’t sleep."
She studied for a long mont before coming closer, placing her hand on my chest. "Promise sothing, Jace."
"What?"
"Don’t let them drag you into their chaos. I can see it in your eyes—you’re planning sothing already. But for once, don’t fight fire with fire. Not yet."
Her touch steadied , but only slightly. I covered her hand with mine, pulling her closer. "Mira, if I don’t put them in the ground, they’ll co for . And they’ll co for you."
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. "Then outsmart them. Don’t just fight them."
For a mont, we stood there in silence, the weight of her words settling in.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there. "You’re right," I said finally. "But make no mistake. If they so much as look at you the wrong way, I won’t hesitate."
Because in the end, I could forgive a thousand things. But not anyone touching what’s mine.
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