Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
A gentle shake wakes me. I feel so well-rested, and I know that’s due to sleeping in Sin’s arms.
I lean up and stretch, noting a hint of light leaking into the cabin.
“It’s daytime?” I croak.
“Ten-hour flight,” Bria groans, getting up herself. “What time is it?”
“Seven in the morning.”
The plane begins its descent as the first golden rays of sunlight spill over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I press my face closer to the window, my breath catching at the sight below—rolling hills dotted with ancient villages, the rooftops glowing in the morning light. Italy. I can hardly believe we’re here.
“You’re quiet,” Sin says, his voice husky. I wondered if he had slept, and that tone tells me he did. He stretches in his seat beside me, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he watches me. “Nervous about landing?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head but unable to tear my eyes away from the view. “Just… taking it all in. It’s beautiful.”
He leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine as he looks out the window with me. “Wait until you’re down there. This is just the beginning.”
The wheels touch down on the runway with a faint bump, and I exhale, realizing I’d been holding my breath. The cabin fills with the soft whir of systems powering down, and the hum of excitement I’d felt since takeoff grows louder. I’m here. We’re here.
The flight attendant opens the door, and a rush of fresh, crisp air floods the cabin, carrying with it the faint scent of something earthy and sweet—olive trees, maybe, or blooming fall flowers. Sin stands, stretching briefly before reaching down to take my hand.
“Come on,” he says, his grin contagious as he helps me out of my seat.
I follow him down the steps, my feet meeting the warm tarmac as the rising sun bathes everything in golden light.
The airport is small and quiet, a far cry from the bustling chaos I’d imagined. Beyond it, I can see vineyards stretching into the distance and a skyline dotted with terracotta rooftops.
I take a deep breath. “So, what’s first?” I ask, turning to him with a mix of curiosity and excitement. The nerves are mostly for meeting his dad.
He steps closer, his eyes sparkling in the morning light. “ First,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face, “we find the perfect espresso.”
“Ugh!” Brie moans. “I would die for an espresso right now.”
I give her a smile, watching as Maxwell and Rollins set our bags in the car.
A breeze whips by tossing hair in my face, Sin moves it gently. I laugh, the sound light and unrestrained, and as we walk toward the awaiting stretched SUV with everyone in tow, I feel it: that indescribable rush of stepping into something new.
Italy spreads out before us, ancient and alive, and for the first time in a long time, I feel completely untethered.
“Welcome to Italy, mi amore,” Sin whispers into my ear.
Bria looks so well put together; her legs politely crossed as she sips on her bubbly champagne mixed with orange juice.
Sin grabs a sparkling water from the small leather cooler underneath the crystal glasses, handing me one. It bubbles on my tongue, soothing and vibrant.
“Please tell me we’re not going straight to Dad’s,” Bria sighs.
Sin lets half of a smirk pass through. “No, it’s too early for that. We’re taking Magnolia to explore the village for a bit.”
The narrow street leads us back toward the heart of the village .
The driver drops Bria, Sin, and I off. Maxwell, Rollins, and Zeik go ahead without us. “Where are they going?” I ask, glancing after them.
Sin gestures to the SUV as it goes. “To the house, getting things prepared for our arrival.”
I don’t know what that means, but right now, I don’t care. This place is adorable.
The scent of freshly brewed espresso drifts through the air, mingling with the faint tang of the sea. A tiny coffee shop tucked between two bright yellow buildings catches Sin’s eye. Its striped awning and wooden sign, weathered by years of salty air and sun, make it look like it’s been there forever.
“This is the place,” he says, nodding toward it. “Best espresso in Portofino. Maybe in all of Italy.”
I raise an eyebrow, teasing. “That’s a bold claim.”
Bria walks in. “He’s not lying. I promise, it’s divine.”
“You’ll see,” he says with a grin, pulling me gently inside.
The café is small and cozy, with just a few tables and a long wooden counter where a shiny espresso machine hisses and steams. The walls are lined with black-and-white photos of Portofino through the decades, and the warm, earthy scent of coffee wraps around me like a hug.
“Buongiorno, Bria and Sin!” the barista calls out from behind the counter, his face lighting up when he sees them. They exchange a few rapid words in Italian, and he hugs Bria.
“This is Magnolia. It’s her first espresso in Italy,” Sin tells him.
The barista nods seriously like this is a matter of great importance. “Then she must have it perfect,” he says, bustling to prepare the drinks.
We find a table by the window, and I watch as Sin leans back in his chair, completely at ease. Bria sits to my right, tapping on her phone. “So, I assume you come here a lot when you’re here?” I ask, fiddling with the sugar packets on the table.
“Every time I’m home,” Sin says. “It’s tradition. And trust me, after you taste it, you’ll understand why.”
A few moments later, three tiny porcelain cups of espresso are placed in front of us, the dark liquid topped with a thin layer of golden crema. The barista gives me an approving nod. “Piano, signorina.” (Slowly. Enjoy, miss.)
I lift the cup carefully, the warmth seeping into my hands. The first sip is strong and smooth, the bitterness perfectly balanced with a hint of sweetness. It’s unlike any coffee I’ve ever had—rich, bold, and impossibly satisfying.
“Okay,” I admit, setting the cup down with a smile. “You weren’t exaggerating.”
Sin laughs softly, his fingers brushing against mine as he takes my hand across the table. “Told you. There’s nothing like it. Better than Alice in Brewland.”
I laugh, nodding my head. “Victoria would love it here.”
Bria tosses back her espresso in one gulp. “Running to the bathroom!” she sings, dancing away.
The café hums quietly around us, with locals chatting softly in Italian, the sound of cups clinking against saucers blending with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Outside, the morning sun dances on the cobblestones, and the village feels alive with its own kind of music .
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Not just the coffee, but… everything.”
Sin’s eyes soften, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “There’s no one else I’d rather share it with.”
For a moment, the world narrows to just us, the warmth of his touch and the lingering taste of espresso making me feel completely and utterly present. This place, this moment, it feels like a beginning.
Why does it feel like something bad could happen at any second?
The cobblestone streets of Portofino curve gently beneath our feet, each twist and turn revealing something even more picturesque than the last. Vibrant pastel-colored buildings stand shoulder to shoulder along the waterfront, their reflections shimmering in the calm, turquoise harbor. Fishing boats bob lazily in the water, their painted hulls bright against the glimmering sea.
Bria bustles easily in and out of shops; I see her every so often with another bag in hand and rushing into another. She’s adorable.
Sin walks beside me, his hand warm and steady in mine, his pace unhurried as if savoring every moment of being home. He stops occasionally to point things out—a tiny bakery where he and Bria used to buy focaccia as a children, a narrow alley leading up to a church perched high on the hill, the trattoria where his family celebrated birthdays and holidays.
“This place doesn’t change much,” he says, a soft smile on his lips. “That’s what I love about it.”
I glance at him, catching the flicker of nostalgia in his eyes. “ It’s beautiful,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can see why you missed it.”
We turn into a small piazza, where tables spill out from cafés and the air is filled with the scent of espresso and fresh pastries. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses mingles with the distant cry of seagulls, and it feels like we’ve stepped into a postcard.
A tiny boutique catches my eye, its windows lined with handmade jewelry and colorful scarves that flutter gently in the breeze. I tug his hand, nodding toward the shop. “Let’s go in.”
Sin laughs but follows me inside, the cool air and soft hum of conversation a welcome contrast to the warm sun outside. I drift toward a display of delicate necklaces, each one threaded with tiny glass beads and silver charms shaped like stars and seashells.
“This one suits you,” he says, picking up a bracelet and holding it out. The tiny charms glint in the soft light, and I can’t help but smile as he clasps it around my wrist, his fingers brushing my skin.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, running my fingers over the cool metal. “But you don’t have to?—”
“I want to,” he says simply, his voice low but certain. “A little piece of Portofino to take with you.”
Warmth floods my chest as I glance up at Sin. There’s something so natural about being here with him, like I’m seeing a side of him that only exists in this place, surrounded by these streets and memories.
We step back outside, the sun bright as we weave through the streets. Bria comes over, carrying no less than six different shopping bags. “I got you something!” She grins.
I smile, taking the small bag from her outstretched hand. “You spoil me.”
“You’ll need it,” she assures me, waiting impatiently on the balls of her feet for me to open it.
Inside, wrapped in pink tissue paper is a stunning masquerade mask. Cascading from the edges and around the eye holes are glittering diamonds, creating the illusion of liquid drops frozen in time. The diamonds vary in size, with the largest framing the eyes and smaller ones trailing outward, catching the light with every movement.
A soft satin ribbon in a matching rose gold hue secures the mask; it is brilliant.
“For the party Sin told me about,” she gushes. “I love throwing parties, so if you want me to help, I totally will!”
I hug her. “I was going to talk to you about that over the weekend. I would love your help! This is gorgeous.” I hold up the mask, nearly in tears. “Thank you so much, Bria.”
Sin checks his watch, then glances back up at me. “I hate to break this moment up, but its time.”
Time to finally meet their dad.
The mansion looms just ahead, an imposing blend of old-world elegance and modern grandeur, its towering facade framed by perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glimmer in the late afternoon sun. As we approach, my stomach tightens, the weight of the moment settling heavily on me. I smooth my dress for the hundredth time, feeling small against the scale of Sin’s world.
“Relax,” Sin says gently, reaching over to squeeze my hand as Rollins winds up the drive. “He’s… a lot, but I’ve got you.”
I try to smile, but the knot in my chest doesn’t budge. “What if he doesn’t like me?” I murmur, noting the cliffs edge and vast ocean to the right.
He glances at me, his jaw tightening slightly before he exhales. “Then that’s his problem, not yours. Or mine.”
“He is sweeter with girls,” Bria chimes in, “but he’s weird with outsiders.” She frowns. “I don’t look at you that way, but you have to understand our father is the leader of the Donati name, the patriarch of everything. He trusts no one.”
Wonderful.
The car rolls to a stop in front of the grand entrance, where a uniformed valet steps forward to greet us.
Sin gets out first, circling around to open my door. His touch on my lower back is reassuring as we make our way up the wide stone steps, but my nerves are electric now, each one buzzing with the uncertainty of what’s to come.
The heavy double doors open to reveal a sprawling foyer, marble floors gleaming beneath an enormous crystal chandelier. A butler greets us with a polite bow, his expression unreadable, and directs us toward the sitting room.
“He’s waiting,” Sin murmurs as we follow the butler through the labyrinth of halls, his voice steady but low.
Maxwell takes step beside me, bumping my shoulder. “He’s in a mood today,” he warns us .
When we enter the room, the first thing I notice is the man standing by the window, his back to us. Even in silhouette, his presence is commanding—broad shoulders, a perfectly tailored suit, and an air of authority that fills the space.
“Sin,” he says, turning to face us. His voice is deep and clipped, his sharp features betraying no warmth as his gaze shifts to me. “And this must be… her.”
I step forward, offering a polite smile and extending my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Donati.”
He looks at my hand for a moment before shaking it briefly, his grip firm but distant. “Is it?” he says, his tone making the words sound more like a challenge than a greeting.
“Dad,” Sin says, his voice firm as he steps closer to me. “Let’s skip the theatrics, okay?”
Mr. Donati’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s stubbornness,” he retorts, before gesturing toward the luxurious sofa. “Please, sit.”
Bria rushes into the room singing, “Daddy!” and tosses her arms around him. For a brief moment, a smile spreads across his lips, but it’s gone before it has a chance to lighten his mood.
What is his problem?
We take our seats, the tension in the space thick enough to cut with a knife. Sin keeps his hand on my knee, a subtle reassurance as Mr. Donati sits across from us, his piercing eyes studying me like I’m an investment he’s deciding whether or not to back. Maxwell is standing in the corner, facing us.
“So,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself. What is it you do?”
I clear my throat, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I…”— exhale —“I work at a coffee shop in the city. It’s a bookstore, too.”
“Coffee shop?” he repeats, his tone neutral but somehow still dismissive. “Interesting. And your family? What do they do?”
“They’re… not…” I say carefully, my cheeks warming. “I don’t have any.”
Sin scoffs, “Dad, stop. You already know everything about her.”
I look at him with a surprised expression. “Why did he ask?” I whisper to Sin. Was it just so he can hear how pathetic my life is? What does he expect for a woman who just left an orphanage?
“He’s testing you.” Sin’s voice sizzles with fury.
“I just like to know that people are telling the truth,” his father says, shrugging carelessly. “I imagine our world must be… a bit overwhelming for you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Sin cuts in, his voice sharp. “She’s not here to impress you, Dad. She’s my guest, and she will be treated with respect. No reason to tiptoe around bullshit.”
Mr. Donati’s gaze flicks to his son, and for a moment, something unreadable passes between them. Then he leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Sin, you know I’ve always trusted your judgment. But relationships like this…” He pauses, his eyes landing on me again. “They come with challenges.”
I stiffen, the implication clear, but before I can say anything, Sin stands abruptly, pulling me to my feet with him. “ Enough,” he snaps, his voice tight. “I didn’t bring her here to be scrutinized or judged. If you can’t respect her, we’re leaving.”
I clear my throat, startled by how brash he’s being without even attempting to know me. I’ve been so welcomed by Sin, Bria, and everyone in his New York home that this sudden shift feels unsettling. But it’s not something I’m unfamiliar with. For eighteen years, I lived in a gothic mansion that was as cold and unwelcoming as I imagine hell to be. At least here, there’s a door I can walk through if I need to.
I force a smile at Sin, trying to reassure him that I’m okay. But the tick of his jaw and the way his hand tightens around mine tell me everything I need to know: he’s on the edge, barely holding it together.
The silence that follows is deafening. Mr. Donati’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he rises slowly, his gaze locking with his son’s.
A sinister smile spreads across his face. “Maybe we started on the wrong foot.”
Sin doesn’t respond, his grip on my hand firm as he leads me toward the door. My heart pounds as we walk out of the room, the weight of Mr. Donati’s disapproval trailing behind us, but Sin’s determination grounds me.
“I’m sorry, son. Let’s start fresh.”
The apology seems to work, and Sin’s shoulders relax. I would protest, because every ounce of my body is telling me to get out of here. I’m inside a lion’s den, and this lion really doesn’t like me.
“We need to talk, alone,” Sin sneers .
Bria grabs my hand gently, leading me from the room as they have a brutal stare-off. She shuts the mahogany door behind us and presses her ear against it, I follow.
Sin starts the conversation. “Non c'era motivo di comportarsi così.”
“There was no reason to act like that.” Bria translates to me in English, whispering.
“Non hai mai portato una donna qui, figliolo. Perdonami se sono critico quando devo garantire la sicurezza delle nostre famiglie.”
(You’ve never brought a woman here, son. Forgive me for being critical when I need to ensure our family’s safety.) Bria rolls her eyes.
“Sai che non sono così stupido da metterci in pericolo, lei è innocua. Fidati di me e di Bria, ok? Gestiamo tutto in città. Sai che siamo bravi a mantenere il nostro nome di famiglia.”
(You know I’m not stupid enough to put us in danger, she’s harmless. Trust Bria and I, okay? We handle everything in the city. You know we’re good at holding our family name.)
“Hai ragione,” Mr. Donati sighs. “Sono sempre in difesa. Mi dispiace davvero, farò del mio meglio. Devo solo tenervi al sicuro.”
(You’re right. I’m just always on the defense. I truly am sorry, I’ll try my best. I just have to keep you two safe.)
“Siamo al sicuro; so cosa sto facendo. Inoltre, parliamo solo in inglese quando lei è qui, ok? Voglio farla sentire a suo agio. Soprattutto dopo quella merda che hai appena fatto.”
(We are safe; I know what I’m doing. Also, we only speak in English when she’s here, okay? I want to make her feel comfortable. Especially after that shit you just pulled.)
The conversation is wrapping up, so Bria and I quietly retreat into the living room.
While we wait for their conversation to finish, I gawk at the architecture of the living room. The centerpiece of it all is a massive roaring fireplace. The stone is dark and rich with age, carved into intricate designs that twist and curl like the tendrils of some forgotten story. Above it, the mantel stretches wide, polished wood gleaming under the soft glow of the flickering firelight. Resting on it is an oil painting, framed in gold, its edges slightly worn with time.
The painting itself captures a woman in a regal pose, her gaze intense yet distant, as if caught in a moment of deep thought. Sin's mother—her features sharp and striking, with high cheekbones and eyes that seem to pierce right through anyone who dares to meet them. Her dark hair cascades in waves around her shoulders, the delicate fabric of her gown shimmering under the soft strokes of the artist’s brush.
The colors of the painting are muted, soft earth tones blending with the flicker of the fire, but there's a certain life to it, a vibrancy in her expression that pulls at something deep inside you. She looks powerful, untouchable—yet there’s something about her posture, something in the lines of her face, that suggests a quiet sadness.
The fire crackles beneath her, the flames dancing and flickering in the hearth, casting moving shadows across the painting, as if the woman herself is alive, still watching over the room, over this place .
Mr. Donati walks into the room, then to me, extending his hand. “Ms. Finley, you will have to forgive me. I don’t meet a lot of new people, and you’re the first woman my son has brought to our family home.”
While the knowledge that I’m the first makes me smile, I can’t seem to get over how he treated me. I could be a snob and give him the same tone he gave me, but instead, I choose kindness. He’ll warm up to me, not that I need his approval, but because I want to be respectful towards Sin and Bria’s father.
In truth, I can’t imagine how it is to be the head of a crime organization, so maybe I should just thank my lucky stars that I’m alive right now.
“To new beginnings.” I return the shake of his hand, and this time his eyes are softer, more welcoming.
“Well,” Bria clasps her hands, slapping the tension from the room, “shall I show you the estate?” She extends her hand to me, and I take it. “Don’t pay too much attention to him,” she whispers once we get down the hallway.
“Is it me?” I look down at my beautiful dress, passing by an ornate mirror rimmed in gold. I look nice, and presentable. My fingers slip through my curls.
“No.” She sends me a sincere smile, fixing her own hair in the mirror. “He doesn’t take well to any outsider, but give him time and he will warm up to you. Sin is like a rock, and you penetrated that rough exterior. My dad, he’s a boulder.” She laughs at the comparisons. “All of that to say, you need to toughen up your exterior too. This family isn’t healthy, and it isn’t loving.” A longing look sits in her eyes. “That part died in my father when my mother perished.” She bites her lip, gesturing her hand in front of her. “This is my favorite part.” She opens a set of French doors, showing a garden.
I step outside, and the crisp air of fall fills my lungs. The cobblestone path crunches beneath my feet as I walk, the hedges now tinged with the warm hues of amber and gold. The trees, their leaves fading from green to shades of orange and deep red, stand tall against the sky, the breeze shaking loose a shower of leaves that flutter to the ground around me. The air smells of earth and wood, with a hint of something sweet—like the last blooms of late-season roses.
Ahead, the fountain still stands, its water flowing quietly, casting soft ripples that dance across the surface. The marble statues, though cold to the touch, seem to shimmer in the soft light, their faces serene as they stand sentinel over the garden.
“Stunning,” I breathe out.
As we walk, Bria points out the ancient oak trees that line the edges of the estate, their branches swaying with the wind, leaves scattering like confetti around us.
“These trees have been here for centuries,” she says, a note of pride in her voice. "Some of them even predate the mansion itself."
Bria walks ahead, guiding me toward the stone steps that lead up to the door across the courtyard, her heels clicking on the stone. “Everything is a big circle around the gardens. All rooms you’ll find upstairs, Sin can show you later.”
We circle back around to Sin and Maxwell, seeing his father nowhere in sight. He plants a kiss on my cheek. “You okay?”
I nod. “I wish he would have liked me from the get-go, but maybe I’ll warm up to him.” I offer a weak shrug.
He leans in slightly, his voice low enough only for me to hear. “Don’t mind him,” he murmurs. “He was just trying to figure out where you fit. But I know you belong here. Don’t let anyone make you feel small. I talked to him.”
I know, we listened in.
“What are the plans for the rest of the day?” I ask.
“First, I’ll show you to our room. Then we can relax until it’s time for a famous Donati family dinner.” He claps his hands mischievously.
I internally groan, wanting to stay in bed with Sin until it’s time to leave. I don’t feel comfortable here. Not after his father treated me that way, but I muster a smile. “That will be nice.”
I don’t yet tell him that there’s no way we’re sharing a room. Not when his dad already looks down on me.
Can I blame him, though? His brilliant, millionaire son has brought home someone who has nothing to bring to the table.
Later that night, as the air inside the mansion grows warm and inviting. I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the neckline of the dress Bria insisted I wear. The soft velvet fabric feels foreign against my skin, but I can’t deny the elegance it gives me. The room is quiet except for the rustling of clothes and the occasional soft laugh from Bria as she finishes getting ready beside me.
I’m still adjusting the strap of my shoe when I hear the door creak open behind me. Sin’s voice drifts in before his presence fully does. “You ready? ”
I glance up at the mirror to see him standing in the doorway, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, like he’s been waiting for a sign that I’m good to go. He looks different tonight—more refined, somehow, in a maroon suit that’s perfectly tailored to his frame.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him outside of his usual dark, dangerous attire, and the contrast catches me off guard.
“I think so,” I answer, trying to hide the unease in my voice.
I smooth down the fabric of my dress once more, pretending I’m calm when the truth is, my mind is racing. I want to make a good impression, since the first wasn’t the best.
Above all, I need to talk to Sin about where I’m sleeping tonight, which is here, in Bria’s room.
His gaze moves from me to the room around us, scanning everything in the way he always does, with a hint of scrutiny. Then, as though remembering why he’s here, he steps closer, his presence filling the space. “Dinner’s about to start.”
I nod, trying to push the worry down. But it comes back with a quick, almost biting request. “Sin, we need to talk.”
He raises an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in his expression, but he doesn’t interrupt. I take a breath, the words coming out in a rush.
“I—I’m just not sure about staying in the same room tonight.” My voice feels tight. “It… it might look bad, with us not being married. I already feel judged.” Bria is quiet behind us; I already had this conversation with her.
He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine, his gaze intense. I can feel the weight of his presence in the room, like a tangible force.
“You’re worried about how it looks to my father?” His tone is low, but there’s something in it, something I can’t quite place, like a quiet challenge.
I swallow, nodding slightly. “Yes. It’s just… we’re not married, Sin. We’ve been thrown together in all this madness, and I’m trying to keep my head above water. But I don’t want to make things harder for you, or for me.”
He watches me for a long moment, his jaw tightening just enough for me to notice. There’s an unreadable expression on his face, but then, slowly, he speaks again, his voice a little softer now.
“Magnolia.” He steps closer, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the whole world narrows down to just the two of us. “This isn’t about what anyone thinks. It’s about what you want. And if I’m being honest, I want you close. But if it makes you uncomfortable, you can stay here with my annoying sister.”
She throws a hairbrush at him, but misses.
I turn back to him, biting my lip as I weigh my options. “I just don’t want anyone to think… you know…” I trail off, searching for the right words. “I don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage of you or something.”
His lips twitch into a small, knowing smile. “Magnolia, he can think what he wants. But you're not taking anything from me.”
His voice is firm, the way he always speaks when he’s made up his mind.
Sin continues, “And I’m not giving anything up either. It’s just us, no matter what anyone says. But I think you’ll be pleased to know my father was asking about you while you and Bria have been up here.”
“Why the sudden change?” My eyes widen.
“I told you already.” He plays with the curls in my hair. “It takes him a little while to warm up, but once you’re on his side, he will protect you with his dying breath.”
I inhale, the words sticking in my throat. But then I nod, just slightly. “That’s good to know.”
Bria stands up, straightening out her gown. “You should have seen how he treated my first boyfriend.” She lets out a long, slow breath. “We got back to the city, and he ghosted me.”
It’s nice to know I’m not the only one he thinks isn’t good enough for his kids. Makes me wonder if Bria doesn’t date because of him, though.
Sin reaches out, his hand brushing mine lightly. “Let’s go.”
The grand dining room is a vision of opulence. Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, their light casting a subtle glow over the room. The walls are lined with rich tapestries and portraits of ancestors, their painted eyes seeming to follow your every move.
A long, polished mahogany table stretches across the space, its surface gleaming under the soft flicker of candlelight. Each place setting is perfect: gleaming silverware, delicate crystal glasses, and fine china that looks too beautiful to use. The air is thick with the scent of fresh flowers, their vibrant colors adding an almost otherworldly touch to the already grandiose atmosphere .
Sin’s father sits at the head of the table, a man whose presence looms over the room even as he remains seated. His face is hard, weathered by years of power and secrecy, his eyes a deep, calculating blue that never seem to miss anything. When he sees us, he gives a small, approving nod.
Sin gives a slight bow of his head, pulling out mine and Bria’s seats across the table.
The chatter begins, but it isn’t about business, it’s more casual. Mr. Donati asks about the coffee shop, seeming to have an interest in me now that Sin threatened him.
This isn’t like the dinners at home, talking of work and family business, but I imagine this is a rare occasion with them both being there.
The dinner begins, and each course is more extravagant than the last: delicate hors d’oeuvres that melt on the tongue, a buttery lobster bisque served in fine porcelain bowls, and then the main course—a perfectly roasted rack of lamb, its tender meat surrounded by an array of vegetables that look as though they’ve been plucked from a garden untouched by time.
The wine flows freely, a deep red that matches the warmth of the evening. It’s all too much, and yet somehow not enough. Each bite, each sip, feels like I’m being pulled deeper into a world I don’t entirely understand but can’t escape from.
While Sin’s father has been polite, I do notice his sharp gaze occasionally shifting toward me, measuring, evaluating. Seeing where I fit in this family.
Sin seems to notice my discomfort. His hand brushes mine under the table, a small gesture, but it grounds me.
I look at him, the warmth in his voice a quiet reassurance, though the weight of his world still presses down on me. He squeezes my hand just once, the briefest of gestures, but it’s enough to settle some of the nervous tension in my chest.
The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of conversation, laughter that feels distant, and the clink of silverware against porcelain.
The dessert course is a decadent chocolate soufflé, and by the time the final wine is poured and the meal draws to a close, I’m left with a sense of disorientation as if I’ve just attended some kind of elaborate performance.
“That was weird, right?” I tell Bria, climbing underneath her comforter.
She shrugs. “It went way better than I expected.”
“Really?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I should have talked more, maybe?”
She climbs in beside me. “You’re doing just fine. Don’t stress, okay?”
All I can do is stress. I want him to like me; I need him to. Sin means so much to me, and I miss him.
Although he’s right down the hall.
As Bria falls into sleep, soft snores coming from her, I lay in silence long into the night, wondering if Sin is missing me just as much.
I can’t sleep without him; this is torture. I’ve been lying awake for hours, trying to justify why I told him no in the first place. Who cares what his father thinks?
The quiet of the night is making me braver.
The hallway is dimly lit by the faint glow of sconces casting long shadows along the walls. I walk silently, my footsteps soft against the cold marble floors, careful not to wake anyone. The weight of the night presses in on me, but all I can think about is him—Sin.
I push open his door slowly, the hinges creaking softly, the only protest as I enter. The room is bathed in shadow, with moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains, casting streaks of pale blue across the floor. I feel a pang of longing in my chest, like an ache I can’t shake.
His sleeping face is so lovely, all of the hard edges softened by dreams.
I move to the window and pull the curtain back, the cool night air rushing in as I lean against the sill. Below me, the garden is a maze of shapes and shadows, the ivy-covered walls and tall trees now softened by the moon’s light.
It’s peaceful, quiet, and for a moment, I forget everything else. I forget the dinner, the weight of expectations, and the pressure building inside of me.
All I want is this moment to breathe in the calm of the night and feel the absence of everything that’s constantly pulling at me.
But just as I let myself settle into the quiet, I hear a faint click behind me—a sound too sharp to ignore. Before I can turn around, cold metal presses against my temple. My heart stops in my chest, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Sin?” I croak. There’s a long pause, and then the sound of a sharp intake of breath. The tension in his posture shifts, like he’s realizing what he’s done. Slowly, the pressure against my temple eases just a fraction. He lowers the gun, the click of the safety giving way to a tense quiet.
He steps closer, and I can feel the warmth of his body, the quiet power that radiates from him even when he’s not speaking.
He turns me to face him, “Magnolia, I could have fucking killed you.” He exhales.
“I—I just missed you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My heart is still racing, my breath shaky, but I can’t bring myself to move.
Sin doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence hanging between us like a weight. Then, slowly, he reaches his hands to cup my face. The gun brushes against my cheek, cold and hard.
I hesitate for a moment, not out of fear but awe. There’s something about the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing in the world that matters—that makes it hard to move, to breathe.
He lays the gun on a table, strong hands finding my waist, his touch firm but not rough, pulling me the rest of the way to him. His body is warm against mine, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric I’m wearing.
“Magnolia,” he murmurs, my name falling from his lips like a promise.
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, my breath hitching as his fingers brush along my jaw, trailing down the column of my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His thumb lingers at my collarbone, his touch gentle but deliberate, as though he’s memorizing me .
“You drive me insane,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Do you know that?”
I shake my head, words failing me as his hand moves to my back, sliding down to press me closer. His other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my face up so there’s no space left between us.
When his lips finally meet mine, it’s like the air has been sucked out of the room. The kiss starts slow, teasing, his lips brushing against mine in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. But then it deepens, his mouth capturing mine with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
My hands find his chest, my fingers splaying over the hard planes of muscle as I try to steady myself. His skin is warm beneath my touch, and I feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, matching the frantic pace of my own.
He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to my jaw, then lower, trailing along my neck. I gasp as he finds a spot just beneath my ear, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that makes heat pool in my stomach.
“Sin,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath.
“Say it again,” he murmurs against my skin, his hands sliding down to my hips, pulling me flush against him.
“Sin,” I repeat, his name rolling off my tongue like a prayer.
He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed, his lips never leaving mine. The moonlight casts everything in a dreamlike glow, but the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted—feels achingly real.
As he lays me down, his weight pressing into me, his hands roaming over my body with a reverence that steals my breath, I know there’s no going back. Whatever this is—whatever we’re becoming—it’s as inevitable as the waves crashing against the cliffside.
The next morning, the soft glow of dawn filters through the curtains, waking me before my alarm. I stretch lazily, expecting to roll over and find Sin still asleep, but his side of the bed is empty. Before I can wonder where he is, the door creaks open, and he steps in, dressed and wide awake, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.
I blink at him, confused but amused. “What time is it? And why are you so… awake?”
He chuckles, pulling the covers back gently. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Come on, get dressed.”
“A surprise? This early?” I groan but sit up, curiosity outweighing my reluctance. I always do love Sin’s morning surprises. “What kind of surprise?”
His grin widens. “You’ll see. But you’ll need something comfortable—and a jacket. It’s a little chilly out.”
Ten minutes later, I’m bundled up and following him outside, the cool morning air brushing my cheeks. The faint orange of sunrise spreads over the horizon, and everything feels quiet, almost sacred. As we walk into the village, along the harbor, I spot a helicopter on the pavement, its blades still and gleaming in the first light of day.
I stop in my tracks, my eyes widening. “Wait… is th at?—?”
“Your surprise,” he says, turning to me with a proud smile. “I thought we’d see Portofino from a new angle today.”
My heart leaps as I take it in, the sleek black helicopter and the breathtaking promise of the view from above. “Are you serious?” I whisper, already knowing the answer.
“Dead serious.” He reaches for my hand, pulling me toward the aircraft. “You said you’d never been in one, so I figured why not?”
Before I can respond, the pilot greets us with a warm smile and helps me into one of the seats. The cabin smells faintly of leather and adventure, and the anticipation hums in my chest as Sin climbs in beside me. He secures my headset, his fingers brushing against my temple, and I catch the excitement in his eyes.
The blades begin to spin, the sound growing louder as the helicopter comes to life. I glance at Sin, his hand resting reassuringly on my knee, and I feel a rush of gratitude; not just for the experience but for the way he always seems to know how to surprise me in the best possible ways.
As we lift off, the ground falls away beneath us, and Portofino stretches out like a masterpiece.
The village, with its colorful houses and winding streets, looks even more magical from above. The coastline glitters in the soft morning light, the sea a perfect shade of blue that seems to stretch forever.
“Look at that,” I whisper, completely in awe.
Sin leans closer, his voice warm through the headset. “Worth getting up early for? ”
I turn to face him, my heart full of adoration. “More than worth it.”
“I know this is a short trip, we’re leaving tomorrow. I wanted you to experience everything you possibly can." He smiles, his fingers lacing through mine as we soar higher, the world opening up below us in a way that feels impossibly vast and breathtakingly intimate all at once. “Once we land, we’re going on my father’s boat. I wanted you to see the beauty of this city from land, sea, and clouds.”