Page 2 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

I shouldn't be here. Not with these people. Not in their world—the one I fought so hard to escape. And yet, here I am—working. I am just another pretty shiny mask in the crowd, glitter, lace, and gold covering my face. Camouflaged and unnoticed. Until I feel someone watching me. My skin crawls, and my hair stands on end.

A stare—burning, intense.

I hold my breath. Slowly, I turn, scanning the sea of glittering masks and shiny dresses. Men in tuxedos and bow ties, all trying to impress.

Then I seehim.

Tall. Commanding. Draped in an expensive, custom-made black suit, his dark mask concealing everything but the icy fire in his eyes. Eyes I know. Eyes I've looked into before. The past has come back to haunt me on Valentine's Day.

I've spent years perfecting the art of staying invisible—blending into rooms like this one. Masks and glitter, fake smiles and polite lies—it's all a game I've mastered.

But Alessandro D'Angelo doesn't play games. He's here to ruin everything, just like he did before.

My stomach twists, the champagne I sipped earlier churning uneasily. My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out everything else. His eyes lock onto mine, and suddenly, the careful façade I've built begins to crack.

My heart is a traitor, hammering in my chest. For a split second, I forget to hate him. A rush of heat floods me, cruel and familiar, reminding me of the fire he used to ignite.

But then the memories hit—jagged glass slicing through the haze of attraction. The lies. The heartbreak. The moment he left without a word, leaving me to pick up the shattered pieces.

I hate him for making me feel like the ground is slipping away beneath me, for dragging me back to a place I swore I'd never return to.

The mask hides his face, but I don't need to see it to know—it's him. My heart skips a beat, then races. He hasn't seen me yet. Not really. Not behind this mask. Maybe he doesn't know it's me. I should walk away, slip into the crowd, disappear like I've done so many times before.

But my feet stay planted.

And then?—

He walks. Effortlessly. His gaze locks onto mine, and in that instant, the years fall away, leaving raw, open wounds. I hate him—there is nothing but bitter loathing in my heart for that man.

He's here.

Why is he here? No one told me he had come home—prodigal son. I am sure his father is overjoyed. I, however, wish he had stayed gone.

Before I can decide whether to confront him or flee, he's standing right in front of me.Too close.The air between us thickens, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, leaving me breathless and reeling. The noise of the surrounding conversation dulls, the music fades, and all I hear is the steady beat of my heart.

"Care to dance?" His voice is smooth, tainted with something darker. It's a challenge. One I don't intend to accept. Nothing good can come from dancing with the fucking devil himself.

I smile, and my hands tremble slightly. "Is that wise, D'Angelo?" I say his name, and it tastes like poison on my tongue. He's a dangerous man, a killer, and he is responsible for all of my pain.

A flicker of surprise in his eyes—recognition. "Serafina."

The sound of my name on his lips is a spark to dry tinder. I should walk away. No, I should run away—as fast as my legs can carry me. I don't want to be trapped in his web again. Once was enough.

Instead, I take his hand.

The orchestra swells as he pulls me onto the crowded dance floor, his grip firm, his movements effortless.Too close. Too familiar.Each step feels like a ghost from the past, haunting me with memories I swore I'd bury.

At the same time, it hurts—a scar being ripped open. I should stomp on his foot and get the hell out of here while I still can.

His hand at my waist burns, branding me with a touch I never wanted to feel again. My body betrays me, leaning into him despite every alarm blaring in my head. It's like my bodyremembers the way he fits against me, even if my mind refuses to.

My heart pounds, useless and weak, like it's forgotten the agony he left behind. The lies, the heartbreak—all the promises I made to myself to never let this happen again.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay in control, to keep my distance. But he's too close. His scent curls around me, dark and consuming, pulling me in like a drug I swore I'd quit.

Damn him for knowing exactly how to disarm me, even now.

His hand tightens at my waist, his voice low and taunting in my ear. "Did you miss me?"

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