Page 7 of Lord of Little Italy

I push north, past the narrow streets and fire escapes of NoLita. The city is waking up around me - delivery trucks rumbling down Mulberry Street, taxi drivers changing shifts,street cleaners washing away yesterday's sins. A cat watches me from its perch on a rusty railing, looking as judgmental as I feel.

The Lower East Side gives way to the East Village, where club kids are just stumbling home as the first commuters emerge from their walk-ups. The contrast always amuses me - sparkly dresses and smeared makeup mixing with business suits and briefcases. That's New York - everyone's story overlapping, but nobody quite touching.

Except Isabella touched me. Got under my skin in a way nobody has before.

I push harder, legs burning as I hit Union Square. The farmers' market vendors are setting up their stalls, the smell of fresh herbs and flowers cutting through the usual city stink. Early morning yoga enthusiasts spread their mats on the grass, seeking peace in the chaos.

Peace. That's what I had before Isabella crashed into my life like a hurricane in designer heels. I knew who I was - the head of Little Italy's most powerful family, respected and feared in equal measure. The alliance between our families has kept the peace for years. Dom's territory in Queens, mine in Little Italy - a partnership built on trust and friendship that goes back years.

Nothing's simple anymore.

I cut through Madison Square Park, where the first rays of sunlight are just hitting the Flatiron Building. The iconic wedge of limestone and terra cotta towers above me, a reminder of permanence in a city that's always changing. How many mornings have I run this same route? How many times have I watched the sun paint that building gold?

But it feels different now. Everything feels different.

The breakfast cart guys are setting up, the smell of coffee and bacon egg rolls making my stomach growl. I ignore it, pushing up Fifth Avenue. The high-end shops are still dark, but window cleaners are already at work, making sure the displays of thousand-dollar handbags sparkle for the tourists.

By the time I reach Central Park, the sun is fully up. Joggers and dog walkers nod as I pass, part of the silent fellowship of morning people. The reservoir sparkles on my left, while trees provide patches of shade on my right. In a few hours, this path will be packed with tourists and teenagers and nannies with strollers. But right now, it's just us early birds and our thoughts.

My thoughts keep circling back to Isabella.

The way she challenges me. How she's not afraid to push back when I growl. The fire in her eyes when we spar.

Dom trusted me to look after his sister while he's away. Not as an employee, but as his close friend. The kind of friend who's had his back in countless fights, who helped him take control of Queens when everyone said he was too young. The kind of friend you trust with your life - and your family.

Not the kind of friend who kisses your sister until they're both breathless. Not the kind of friend who wants her so badly it physically hurts.

I'm supposed to be the honorable one. The one who puts loyalty above everything. The one who doesn't let desire destroy decades of trust.

But every time I'm near her...

A horse-drawn carriage clips past, the driver tipping his hat. The horses' hooves echo off the park walls, a steady rhythm likemy heartbeat when Isabella's close. Even here, miles from Little Italy, I can't escape thoughts of her.

By the time I loop back downtown, the city is fully awake. Delivery bikes zip between cars, their electric motors whining. Steam rises from manholes like the city's breathing. The sidewalks are filling with people, all focused on their phones, their coffee, their destination.

I wish I could be that focused. That certain of my direction.

The morning light hits the windows of the Freedom Tower as I pass, sending sparkles across the harbor. Lady Liberty stands guard in the distance, a reminder of all the dreams this city holds. All the promises it makes and breaks.

Back in Little Italy, the streets are bustling now. Kids heading to school, old men arguing politics outside my family's social club, tourists already lining up at Lombardi's for the first pizza of the day. This is my world. These are my people. I built this empire through blood and loyalty, just like Dom built his in Queens.

And Dom is my brother in everything but blood. Our families' alliance has kept the peace between our territories for years. One wrong move could unravel everything we've built.

I stop at my building, sweat-soaked and exhausted, but no closer to peace than when I started. The doorman nods as I pass, probably wondering why the usually unflappable Mr. Rivera looks like he's seen a ghost.

Under the shower, I make my decision. I have to pull back. Put distance between Isabella and me before this goes too far. Before I destroy a friendship that's kept me alive for fifteen years.

But even as I make this resolution, I know it's already too late.

Because this afternoon, I have to meet her at her gym for training.

And God help me, I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist her.

Not when every fiber of my being wants to give in. Not when she looks at me like I'm more than just another mob boss. Not when she makes me feel things I've spent years pretending I couldn't feel.

My phone buzzes - a text from Isabella:

"Don't be late today. I have some new moves to show you."

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