2

Bianca

I am wearing a black short skort with a matching black tucked in shirt. The outfit is simple but elegant enough for the office. I run my fingers through my hair once more before stepping into the kitchen.

My mother suddenly wraps her arms around me from behind.

“Good morning, honey,” she says warmly.

I take a sip from my coffee and smile softly.

“Good morning, Mom.”

Life has changed a lot for us during the past year. My mother is now working again as an interior designer. The woman who once lived under my father’s shadow has slowly started building a life of her own. I can see it in her smile, in the way she walks, in the confidence she carries now.

She is finally living the life she deserves.

“Oh honey, I have to take the car to work today,” she says while putting some documents inside her handbag. “I have a house to visit and it is a little far from here.”

“Okay, Mom,” I reply casually.

“I can drop you at the office first and then go,” she suggests.

“No,” I wave my hand lightly in the air. “It will be too far for you to drive, especially with the morning traffic. It is fine. I can take the bus or a taxi.”

She studies me for a moment before nodding.

“Alright, honey. I will see you in the evening.”

“Bye, Mama.”

I grab my handbag and an umbrella before stepping into the elevator.

Outside, the rain is colder than I expected. The wind blows the water across the streets, and the sidewalks are nearly empty.

I walk toward the bus stop a few blocks away. The city feels quiet under the rain. When I reach the stop, I realize that I am the only person there. Great. I open my taxi app and check for nearby rides. Nothing. No taxis available.

I sigh and sit down on the metal bench. The rain begins pouring harder, the droplets hitting the roof of the bus stop loudly. A cold breeze slips through the open sides of the shelter.

Minutes pass. Then more minutes. Soon my fingers start to feel numb.

I pull my shirt tighter around myself, trying to stay warm. My teeth begin chattering slightly and my lips tremble from the cold.

Just as I start wondering if the bus will ever come, a powerful engine roars down the street. A sleek sports car pulls up beside the bus stop. An Aston Martin. The window rolls down slowly. Leonardo Cavallaro. My heart skips a beat.

He honks once and gestures toward the passenger seat.

I immediately open my umbrella and run toward the car before the rain can completely soak me again. I slip inside and close the door quickly.

“Thank you,” I say, slightly breathless.

“You are welcome,” he replies calmly as he shifts the car into gear.

The car moves smoothly through the wet streets. I glance down and notice that my shirt is slightly damp from the rain. His tattooed knuckles rest casually near the gear shift, and for some reason the sight sends an unexpected chill down my spine. Number 1908 is written on his fingers.

“You are drenched,” he mutters.

I glance down again and sigh.

“Yes. The rain,” I say, brushing a wet strand of hair away from my face.

For a moment the car remains quiet except for the sound of rain hitting the windshield. Then he speaks again.

“Yesterday you came to work by car, correct?”

I nod. “It is my mother’s car.”

He nods slightly.

“By the way,” he continues casually, “do you happen to know the late Giuseppe Batisti?”

The question immediately makes my stomach tighten. I keep my eyes forward.

“He was my father,” I answer honestly.

He glances at me briefly.

“Why is the daughter of the late consigliere Batisti working in my company?” he asks calmly. “Are you not interested in revenge?”

I let out a small scoff.

“I have nothing to do with my father’s mafia life,” I reply. “I am not a part of that world anymore.”

He studies me for a second before nodding.

“Okay.”

And just like that, he drops the subject. No more questions. No more curiosity. The rest of the drive passes quietly.

When we arrive at Cavallaro Holdings, I thank him again before stepping out of the car and heading inside the building.

The first thing I do is go straight to the washroom.

I use the hand dryer to dry the damp fabric of my shirt as best as I can. After fixing my hair and touching up my makeup, I finally feel presentable again.

Then I head to the office kitchen to prepare Mr Cavallaro’s espresso. Black. No sugar. Exactly the way he likes it. I carry the coffee into his office and place it gently on the desk.

“I will have to leave right now,” he says while reviewing some papers. “Just answer my important calls and schedule my meetings for my available days.”

He takes a sip of the espresso.

“I have something important to deal with,” he adds. “You can leave early this afternoon.”

“Okay. Got it,” I reply.

Mr Cavallaro grabs his coat and leaves the office quickly.

The rest of my workday passes quietly. I answer a few calls, update his calendar, and check some emails.

By early afternoon there is nothing left to do. So I grab my bag and take the bus home. Back at the penthouse, the silence feels almost boring. I pull out my phone and call my best friend. Seraphina.

We have been friends since we were toddlers. Our families used to attend the same mafia gatherings, birthdays, and celebrations. She belongs to the Moretti crime family.

“You free tonight?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she replies immediately. “We can go clubbing.”

“Dinner first and then clubbing?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. Come pick me up.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” she laughs.

I head upstairs to my bedroom and walk into my walk in wardrobe. After looking through several dresses, I finally choose a short black dress and place it on the bed along with a matching pair of heels.

Later that evening I finish getting ready. My long hair falls in soft curls over my shoulders, and my makeup is simple but elegant. I grab a small handbag that only holds my phone and my card.

As I walk downstairs, my mother is just entering the penthouse carrying a stack of files and her laptop.

“How was work?” I ask.

“Good,” she replies before narrowing her eyes slightly. “But where are you going?”

“I am going out with Seraphina. Dinner and clubbing.”

She places her files on the dining table.

“Did the client like your design?” I ask.

Her cheeks turn slightly pink. She nods excitedly.

“Yes. It is a project for a modern house. The client happens to be a godfather, and he loved the design. He gave me the project.”

“Oh my God, Mom, congratulations!” I hug her and kiss her cheek.

She smiles brightly. “He also invited me to dinner tomorrow.”

Her cheeks turn even redder. I clear my throat dramatically.

“Okay.”

She taps my shoulder. “Stop it. He is just a client.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I tease.

“Bianca Batisti, just go,” she laughs while pointing toward the elevator. “Leave my penthouse.”

“Okay, okay, madam. I am leaving.”

“Do not be late, honey,” she calls out as the elevator doors close.

“Yes, Mom!”

Seraphina and I have a simple dinner. Burgers and fries. After that she drives us to a new club in Vegas.

She flashes two VIP passes at the entrance, and within seconds we are escorted into the VIP lounge with access to unlimited drinks.

“My brother Luca is best friends with the owner of this club,” she explains as we sit down on a leather couch.

“Okay,” I nod.

Seraphina looks stunning in a red mini dress, her long black hair flowing over her shoulders. We order two margaritas and sit back while the music blasts through the club. The place is massive. Two floors with people dancing everywhere. My eyes wander across the upper balcony. And suddenly I see a familiar face.

Leonardo Cavallaro.

I nearly choke on my drink. “That is my boss,” I whisper to Seraphina.

She bursts out laughing. “Darling,” she says. “He owns this club.”

I stare at her in shock. “Seriously?”

She nods.

“Yes. Leonardo Cavallaro. The most feared man in Las Vegas and one of the most powerful figures in the underworld.”

“Oh,” I murmur.

I glance back at him. God, he is handsome.

“He is so damn handsome,” I admit.

Seraphina giggles.

“Every girl in Vegas calls him a sex god.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“So he sleeps with everyone?”

“Not everyone,” she laughs. “But he definitely has a reputation. Girls practically throw themselves at him.”

I shake my head. Just then a woman walks up to him and kisses him boldly. I roll my eyes and take another sip of my drink.

Fucking bastard.