Page 7 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

I can't let her go. Not because I care—not just because I care—but because she's mine. She's always been mine. And Marco? Marco doesn't get to take what's mine.

SERAFINA

He drags me back out to the Rose Garden, where the air is crisp and sharp, cutting through the tension between us. Out here, the walls don't have ears—only thorns.

The soft glow of fairy lights makes everything look deceptively serene, but my pulse quickens. Something feels off.

"Why are you still here, Alessandro?" I snap, spinning to face him. The golden light casts sharp shadows across his face, making his already dangerous features even more menacing. "Just go. Or better yet, leave me alone."

He leans casually against a marble column, but there's nothing relaxed about the way his eyes pin me in place. "I could ask you the same, Serafina," he says, his tone maddeningly calm. "But we both know you won't give me a straight answer."

He's like a shadow tonight, impossible to shake, always one step behind me. I grit my teeth, his presence setting my nerves on edge.

"I don't owe you answers," I hiss. "You left. You don't get to waltz back into my life after six years and act like you have the right to ask questions."

Fuck him… he is not my keeper.

His eyes darken, a flicker of something dangerous flashing there. "You think it was that simple? That I wanted to leave you?" His voice sharpens, cutting through the stillness of the garden.

"You did!" The words explode out of me, ricocheting off the stone walls. "You vanished. No explanation. No goodbye. Fucking nothing—you wanted to go, Alessandro. Don't lie to me."

He pushes off the column, closing the distance between us in one fluid movement. His presence overwhelms me, his scent wrapping around me, dark and familiar. He smells like cedarwood and smoke, like the danger I shouldn't want but can't stay away from.

"I didn't want to leave, Serafina. I left to protect you."

I laugh, bitter and sharp. "Bullshit. Protect me? From what? Your family? From yourself?" My voice cracks, and I hate that he can still do this to me—make me feel like I'm unraveling. "Don't pretend this was about me. You killed my brother."

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "From the war that was coming. I thought if I stayed away, you'd be safe."

"Safe?" My voice drops, trembling with anger. "And yet here we are—still in the middle of it. Years later. I'm fine, Alessandro. I survived. Without you. Leave me the hell alone."

For a moment, silence stretches between us. The air vibrates with everything unsaid, years of rage threatening to boil over. Then he steps closer—too close. I should move, but I don't. I can't.

He's too much. The way his body moves, the heat radiating off him—it's impossible to breathe. My thighs clench involuntarily as my body betrays me, humming with need despite my anger. I hate him. But fuck, I want him.

"You're still the only thing that matters," he murmurs, his voice low and raw.Another lie.

His words are gasoline on the fire in my chest.

"Don't say that," I breathe. "Don't you fucking dare."

But Alessandro never listens. He grabs my wrist, pulling me into him. The force of it makes me stumble, and suddenly, his mouth is on mine—furious, desperate. His lips crush against mine, and it's like every nerve in my body lights up at once.

Every fiber of my being trembles. I'm ablaze everywhere, my pussy throbbing, wet, yearning for him in a way that scares me. I barely recognize myself—only that if anyone could unravel me, utterly strip away every defense, it's him.

His hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him, and my breath catches when I feel how hard he is. My mind screams at me to stop, but my body begs for more. My nipples pebble against the thin fabric of my dress, and when his fingers brush over the curve of my ass, I almost whimper.

"Serafina," he groans against my lips, his voice rough and laced with need. His lips trail down my jaw to my neck, teeth grazing, tongue teasing the sensitive skin.

I should stop this. I should shove him away again, but all I can think about is how fucking good he feels against me. When his thigh presses between mine, the friction sends a shiver down my spine. My body pulses with need, and I realize—I want him to take me, right here, against the cold stone wall.

"Tell me to stop," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, his breath hot against my ear.

I should. God, I should.

Instead, I tilt my head, giving him better access. His hand slides up, cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak through the fabric. A soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.

The sound pulls a curse from his lips, and he grasps my thigh, hiking it around his hip as his body pushes harder against mine. Every inch of him is solid, unrelenting, and I feel the hard line ofhis cock through his pants, pressing against my pussy, sending a new surge of heat pulsing through me.

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