3

Bianca

Months pass by.

Life slowly falls into a rhythm again. The past still lingers like a shadow in the back of my mind, but day by day I learn how to live with it.

Working at Cavallaro Holdings turns out to be a surprisingly good advantage. The job is demanding, yes, but it also comes with its perks. Sometimes, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Mr Cavallaro simply leaves for one of his mysterious meetings and tells me I can go home early.

And honestly, there are worse privileges to have.

Today happens to be one of those days.

I drive back through the busy streets of Las Vegas, the sunlight reflecting against the tall glass buildings as the city hums with life. My mind drifts while I drive, replaying the small moments of the day.

Leonardo Cavallaro is still as unreadable as ever. Some days he barely says a word to me. Other days he studies me in a way that makes my stomach twist with nervous energy.

By the time I reach the penthouse, the sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky.

I unlock the door and step inside.

The familiar scent of lavender fills the apartment, mixed with the soft sound of music playing quietly somewhere in the background.

My mother is sitting at the large dining table, surrounded by sketches, fabric samples, and architectural drawings. She is completely absorbed in her work, her pencil moving quickly across the paper as she finalizes the design for her latest house project.

She glances up when she hears me enter.

“Early today?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes, Mom,” I reply casually.

I walk toward the mini bar and pour myself a glass of rosé. The cool wine slides smoothly into the glass, and I take a small sip before sinking onto the couch.

With a tired sigh, I kick off my heels and stretch my legs.

Mother watches me for a moment before finally closing her design notebook. She stands up, walks over to the bar, and pours herself a glass of wine as well.

Then she joins me on the couch.

For a few seconds she remains quiet, gently swirling the wine in her glass.

Something about her expression makes me uneasy.

“Honey,” she finally says, her voice softer than usual, “I have something to tell you.”

My fingers tighten slightly around my glass.

“What is it?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

She presses her lips together as if carefully choosing her words.

“Do you remember Vincenzo Massera?”

I immediately roll my eyes.

“Yeah. The guy Father chose for me.”

My mother nods slowly.

“I know you are pure,” she says gently. “And according to the traditions of the mafia families we once belonged to, that matters a lot.”

I stay silent.

“He sent a marriage proposal,” she continues carefully. “He says he wants to marry you.”

I stare at her.

She quickly adds, “He is a good man, Bianca. And he said he would fight to help us get back everything that belonged to us.”

I let out a long sigh and lean back against the couch.

“But Father chose him for me,” I say quietly. “And now Father is dead.”

Mother nods.

“He says he has always liked you.”

Her words hang in the air.

“Marrying him could bring you back into the mafia world,” she continues. “And from there… you could take revenge on Rafaella Deconti.”

I stare down at the glass of wine in my hands.

She is not wrong.

Marrying Vincenzo would put me right back where I once belonged. Back into the world of power, alliances, and influence.

Back into the world where revenge is possible. But the thought of marrying him makes my chest tighten. I do not love him. I barely even know him.

Still, I slowly nod my head. Mother studies my face for a moment.

“Take your time,” she says gently before standing up.

She leaves the room, giving me space to think. But my thoughts are already racing. Vincenzo still wants to marry me because of one thing.

My innocence.

My purity.

My virginity.

In the mafia world, a woman like me is still considered valuable if she is untouched. The realization makes anger burn in my chest.

No.

I refuse to let someone claim me like a prize simply because I fit into their twisted traditions. If Vincenzo wants a pure bride, then he will not get one. I stand up suddenly, determination settling inside me like fire. I will sleep with someone before marrying him.

Not out of love.

Not out of desire.

But because I refuse to let a man win me like I am some untouched trophy.

I quickly change into something more daring. A dress that hugs my body perfectly and heels that make my legs look longer.

Then I grab my car keys. Tonight I have a purpose. The club is already alive with music when I arrive.

Neon lights flash across the dance floor while the bass of the music vibrates through the walls. People laugh, dance, drink, and disappear into dark corners.

I walk confidently toward the entrance and purchase VIP access. Tonight I am alone. I did not call Seraphina. This is something I need to do by myself. I step into the bar area and slide onto one of the tall stools.

“Three tequila shots,” I tell the bartender.

He raises an eyebrow but pours them anyway. I take the first one. Then the second. Then the third. The alcohol burns down my throat, sending warmth through my body almost instantly.

Good.

I need the courage.

I leave the bar and head upstairs toward the VIP area. The lighting is dimmer there, more private. Couples are scattered across the leather couches, tangled together, whispering, kissing. The atmosphere is thick with temptation.

But I ignore all of it. My eyes search the room. I am looking for only one person. Leonardo Cavallaro. The most dangerous man in Las Vegas. The one man who looks at me like he sees right through my skin. I continue walking down the hallway until I reach a familiar door.

An office.

I do not hesitate. I push the door open. And there he is. Leonardo Cavallaro. Sitting behind his desk. A girl is kneeling in front of him.

My breath catches in my throat as the scene freezes around me.

His tempted eyes land on me, his dick is erect, pulsing, and the girl is sucking him. The girl lifts her head and Leonardo's cock stands tall and huge. I feel something between my legs and bite my lips. Fuck, I can't do this. I tell myself. I am not the girl I think I can be. I am not a whore and I can't sleep with Leonardo. I watch as the girl takes him in her mouth again, saliva dripping from her mouth. Leonardo is gazing at me.

“Can I help you with something, little Bee?” he asks with a passionate voice.

I gulp down nervously. “Sorry, wrong door,” I say and close the door instantly.

I catch my breath and wait for my heart to steady.

I just can't do this, but I can't let Vincenzo take my virginity…