Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
I still can’t believe that Sin insists on carrying out this party regardless of being freaking shot last night. But here we are, eating a simple breakfast near the garden window acting like nothing happened as we watch the swarm of workers prep for the event.
“Are you okay?” I murmur with worry.
He laughs, setting down his horrendous cup of black coffee. That used to be my go to, but now the bitter taste makes me cringe. “For the fifteenth time this hour, I’m okay.”
I raise my hands in the air, letting a smile slip. “Sorry, I mean, typically when someone gets shot, they’re in the freaking hospital. They certainly don’t just continue with life like nothing happened.”
“I’m not your typical person.” Even I can’t deny the truth of that statement.
He stands, coming to place a kiss on the top of my head, but I hear the groan escape him from the movement. “You’re right about that,” I respond, helping him without letting him know by picking up his cup and following into the kitchen. “Why don’t you rest?”
He rolls his eyes. “I rested all night. I’m okay, Magnolia. My shoulder fucking hurts, but the lack of blood is what made things so bad. I’m good now; we did fluids again this morning. The shot on my stomach is nothing more than an inconvenience.” He grips my shoulders. “I’m okay.”
“None of this is okay,” I press.
He shrugs, wincing from the movement. “It’s part of my life.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say under my breath.
He crooks his finger underneath my chin, beckoning my attention. “I know why it happened,” he sighs.
“Why?”
“Retaliation for me being across the treaty line.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “So it’s my fault?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you that, but the retribution has happened, and they won’t be coming after us again unless we go back.”
“How did you know?” I ask.
He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to me. It’s ripped in half, burned on the edges.
Donati family,
You’ve crossed the line—literally and figuratively. The treaty exists for a reason, and your blatant disregard for it demanded a response. Let this serve as a warning: step over the boundary again, and next time, it won’t just be a warning shot.
A guilty gasp escapes me. “Sin, I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Still…”
“Life moves on. So long as we stay on our sides, we will be fine.”
“How do you know they won’t come here, tonight?”
He laughs. “They’re not that stupid. Besides, we have facial recognition software throughout; masks can’t hide bone structure. In the very slight event that someone gets through, Maxwell will be monitoring the software. Nothing for you to worry about.” He brushes a stray piece of hair from my eyes. “Aside from having an amazing time.”
He dips down, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I love you,” I tell him, butterflies flying through my stomach at the mere thought that this is something we say to each other now.
“I love you too, Bella.”
Bria’s room is a flurry of silk, sequins, and laughter as we get ready. The oversized vanity is cluttered with brushes, powders, and delicate jewelry, the light from its mirror casting a warm glow over the scene. Bria is perched on the edge of a velvet stool, her fingers deftly fastening the clasps of her diamond-studded necklace. She looks radiant, her gold gown shimmering like molten sunlight with every movement.
“Hold still,” she says, her tone teasing as she reaches out to adjust a stray curl that’s fallen from my updo. “You’re fidgeting like you’ve never done this before.”
“I haven’t,” I remind her, smiling nervously. My emerald gown feels like a second skin, hugging me in all the right places before flaring into a cascade of soft, flowing fabric. The color is rich and deep, setting off my fair skin and the raven waves Bria has painstakingly pinned up, leaving a few loose tendrils to frame my face.
Bria grins, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Well, you’re doing a damn good job of looking like you have. That dress is a showstopper, Magnolia. I did a remarkable job picking it out.”
“Yes, you did.” I glance at the full-length mirror, taking in the gown.
The neckline dips just enough to be elegant, the fitted bodice embroidered with delicate rose gold thread that catches the light with every movement. The skirt flows like water, soft and weightless, pooling slightly at my feet.
Bria turns back to the vanity, slipping on a pair of golden earrings that match her dress. “And that mask—let’s see it.”
I pick up the rose gold mask from the vanity, the diamonds embedded in the delicate filigree glinting under the lights. I slide it into place, the cool metal settling against my skin. The design is intricate, with the color perfectly complementing the emerald of my gown. The diamonds catch the light like tiny stars, adding a touch of mystery to my reflection.
Bria claps her hands together, her grin widening as she ties the pink ribbon. “You’re going to be the most stunning woman at this ball. Sin won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
Her words make my cheeks flush, and I shake my head, laughing softly. “That’s not the goal, Bria.”
“Oh, please,” she says, rolling her eyes as she adjusts her own mask, a shimmering gold piece that frames her eyes like liquid sunshine. “It should be. He needs to know just how lucky he is to have you on his arm.”
I take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over the fabric of my dress. The masquerade ball feels like the culmination of so much—too much. And yet, standing here with Bria, I feel a flicker of excitement beneath the nerves. People have been pouring in, but she told me we didn’t need to rush downstairs, that it’s fashionable to be late.
“Ready?” she asks, extending her hand to me with a playful wink.
I nod, slipping my hand into hers. “As I’ll ever be.”
Together, we make our way to the grand staircase, the sound of the ball already drifting up from below—a symphony of music, laughter, and the low hum of conversation. As we descend, I can’t help but feel like I’m stepping into a dream: one where everything sparkles, and every shadow hides a secret waiting to be uncovered.
The soft melody of a waltz drifts up the grand staircase, wafting from the ballroom below. Bria and I pause at the top, the ornate banister gleaming under the warm glow of chandeliers that stretch like golden constellations overhead. The ball is alive with movement—twirling gowns and masked faces—but all of it feels like background noise compared to the weight of the moment.
Bria places a gentle hand on my arm, her smile conspiratorial. “This is your moment,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the music. “Go first. Trust me.”
I hesitate, glancing at her, but she gives me a tiny nudge. “You’ve got this, Magnolia. Own it.”
Drawing in a steadying breath, I nod and step forward, my heels clicking softly against the marble. The emerald fabric of my gown whispers with every movement, cascading like liquid silk down the stairs.
I keep my chin high, my hand gliding lightly along the banister, but my heart pounds wildly in my chest. I can feel the shift in the air as I descend. Conversations pause, heads turn, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath.
And then I see him.
Sin stands near the base of the staircase, his figure commanding even in the midst of the glittering crowd.
He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his mask a sleek, understated piece that only enhances the sharpness of his features. His posture is relaxed, but the intensity in his ghost eyes as they find mine steals the breath from my lungs.
For a moment, it feels as though the crowd dissolves, leaving just the two of us. His gaze doesn’t waver, following every step I take as though I’ve somehow caught and held his entire world in my hands .
I reach the last step, my hand still lightly brushing the banister. Sin steps forward, his presence enveloping me as he extends a hand. His fingers curl gently around mine, warm and steady, grounding me in the whirlwind of the moment.
“Magnolia,” he says, his voice low and smooth, laced with something I can’t quite name. “You’re… breathtaking.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I glance away for a moment, suddenly shy under the weight of his gaze. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Bria descends the staircase behind me, her golden gown shimmering as she sweeps into the crowd, giving us space. But I barely notice her—barely notice anyone—because Sin’s hand is still holding mine, and his eyes haven’t left my face.
He steps closer, his voice dropping so that only I can hear. “Every star in the sky could disappear tonight, and no one would notice. Not with you here.”
The intensity of his words makes my heart stutter, and I meet his gaze, unable to look away. In this moment, beneath the glow of chandeliers and the swirl of the masquerade, it feels like we’re the only ones who matter.
Sin’s hand tightens around mine for just a moment, his dark eyes searching my face like he wants to say more. But before he can, a man in a crisp suit leans in, murmuring something in his ear. Sin’s jaw tightens, his gaze flicking toward the ballroom before returning to me.
“I’ll be back,” he says, his voice low and full of promise.
His thumb brushes against my knuckles before he releases my hand and strides toward the man, his presence commanding even as he melts into the crowd .
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The air suddenly feels lighter without Sin’s intensity tethering me, but the absence of his warmth leaves a strange hollowness.
Bria appears at my side, a flute of champagne in one hand and an amused grin on her face. “He hates being interrupted, especially when it comes to you,” she teases, nudging me gently.
I smile, still feeling the lingering effects of his gaze. “He’s… intense.”
“That’s an understatement,” Bria replies with a laugh. “But don’t worry, you’ve got me. Let me give you the rundown on who’s who in this circus.”
She gestures subtly toward a tall man in a dark green suit near the far corner of the room. His mask is black and gold, his demeanor exuding quiet authority as he speaks to a small group of elegantly dressed guests.
“That’s Lucian De Luca. Runs one of the biggest art smuggling rings on the East Coast. If you ever want a Monet that’s not exactly legit, he’s your guy.”
I blink, startled. “You’re joking.”
Bria smirks. “Not even a little. Don’t let the smooth talk fool you—he’s ruthless.”
Her gaze shifts to a striking woman in a crimson gown standing by the orchestra, her mask adorned with intricate lace and pearls.
“And that’s Contessa Moretti. She controls the import business in the harbor. Everything that comes through, legal or not, goes through her. If she doesn’t like you, good luck getting so much as a crate of oranges past customs. ”
“Seriously?” I ask, marveling at the casual way Bria describes these people.
“Seriously,” she replies, sipping her champagne. “Oh, and over there—” She tilts her head toward a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a navy suit, his mask simple but refined. “That’s Victor Vosci. He’s old-school mafia, handles all the high-stakes gambling in Atlantic City. He and my father go way back, but don’t let that fool you. He’d stab anyone in the back if it meant doubling his profits.”
I glance at him, noticing the way his eyes dart around the room, always calculating.
“And then there’s...” Bria’s voice lowers, and she leans in closer. “Margot Laurent.”
She nods toward a woman seated on a velvet chaise near the edge. Her gown is a deep plum, her mask glittering with amethysts, and she exudes an air of untouchable sophistication.
“She’s not mafia, but she’s dangerous in her own way. Owns one of the biggest media conglomerates in the country. She knows things about people that even they don’t know about themselves. If she’s here, it’s because she’s hunting for a story—or a secret.”
I shiver slightly, the weight of the room’s collective power settling on my shoulders. These aren’t just people; they’re players in a game I barely understand, and every move they make feels calculated.
Bria grins, nudging me again. “Overwhelmed yet?”
“A little,” I admit, clutching my champagne flute tighter.
“Don’t be,” she says, her tone reassuring. “You’re with us. That makes you untouchable. Just smile, keep your head high, and remember—you look like a goddess tonight. No one here can match that.”
Her words bring a flicker of confidence, and I nod, taking another sip of champagne as I let her guide me through the room.
Bria’s chatter is light and effortless, but the weight of her words stays with me. These people, this world… it’s a balancing act of power, secrets, and alliances, and tonight, I’m right in the middle of it.
The grand ballroom has been transformed into something out of a dream. It’s nearly unrecognizable, a gilded fairytale come to life. The high, vaulted ceilings are draped in shimmering gold and silver fabric that cascades down the walls like waterfalls, catching the soft glow of the crystal chandeliers. The light dances across the room, reflecting off the intricate mirrors and accents that frame the space, giving the illusion that the room stretches endlessly.
The marble floors, polished to a gleaming perfection, are dusted with gold flakes that glimmer underfoot as couples swirl across the dance floor. At the center of it all, a towering floral arrangement commands attention—a cascade of white roses, magnolias, and deep red dahlias spilling over an ornate bronze pedestal. The scent is intoxicating, mingling with the faint notes of champagne.
Round tables skirt the edges of the room, each one draped in luxurious emerald and ruby-colored linens. The centerpieces are works of art themselves: glass vases filled with floating candles and surrounded by lush greenery, accented with small golden charms that catch the flickering candlelight.
The orchestra plays from a raised dais at the far end of the room, their black and white attire contrasting with the riot of colors in the crowd. The music flows effortlessly, wrapping the space in a melody that seems to sway with the movements of the guests.
Overhead, lanterns strung with delicate fairy lights float just beneath the ceiling, their soft glow casting a warm, magical light over the masked faces that fill the room. Each mask is a masterpiece—glittering with gemstones, adorned with feathers, or etched with intricate designs.
And then there’s the balcony. The wide, arched windows have been thrown open to reveal a terrace overlooking the moonlit gardens. The night air filters in, carrying with it the faint scent of lavender and the distant trill of crickets. Guests drift in and out, their laughter mingling with the music, the atmosphere electric yet somehow intimate.
It’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way, every detail a reminder of the wealth and power that surrounds this night.
Yet amidst all the grandeur, I feel a twinge of something deeper. A realization that this isn’t just a ball—it’s a stage, and every person here is playing a role. And tonight, I am too.
Sin is showcasing tonight that I am his and he is mine.
The music swells as I linger at the edge of the ballroom. I glance toward the open balcony doors, the soft night breeze offering a tempting escape, but before I can take a step, a familiar presence stops me.
“Magnolia,” Sin’s voice cuts through the hum of conversation like a low, resonant chord, sending a shiver down my spine .
I turn to find him standing just behind me, his dark suit impeccably tailored, his mask only adding to the intensity of his gaze. The light from the chandeliers reflects in his eyes, making them glint like polished obsidian. His lips curl into the faintest smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry for leaving you,” he says, his voice quiet but full of authority. “I had to take care of something.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, my voice softer than I intended. “Bria kept me company.”
He steps closer, his hand extending toward me, palm up. “Good. But I think it’s time I claimed you for the night.”
His words send warmth rushing to my cheeks, and I hesitate for a moment before placing my hand in his. His grip is firm yet careful, like he’s afraid of letting me go.
Without another word, he leads me into the heart of the ballroom. The crowd seems to part for him instinctively, with guests stepping aside with murmured greetings and lingering glances. I’m hyper-aware of every eye on us, every whisper that follows in our wake, but Sin doesn’t seem to notice—or care.
As we reach the center of the dance floor, the orchestra shifts seamlessly into a new melody, a hauntingly beautiful song that seems to echo in my chest. Sin turns to face me, his movements smooth and deliberate, and places one hand at my waist while the other holds mine.
This is something I’m confident in, dancing. The sisters showed us every fancy dance known to man.
“You look stunning tonight,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. His gaze drops briefly to take in my gown before returning to my face, the intensity there making my heart skip a beat.
“Thank you,” I manage, feeling like I might melt under his attention. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Careful, Magnolia. Compliments like that might go to my head.”
I laugh softly, the tension easing just enough for me to relax into his hold as we begin to move. He leads effortlessly, his movements precise and confident, and for a moment, I forget the opulence of the ballroom, the stares of the crowd.
It’s just us, the music, and the way his hand feels against mine—as if he’s anchoring me to the moment. And in this fleeting sliver of time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we can exist like this—untouched by the chaos waiting just outside these gilded walls.
As the dance ends and the applause ripples through the ballroom, Sin keeps his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd with effortless authority.
I glance up at him, unsure of what comes next, but his expression is calm and unreadable, his mask only adding to his air of quiet dominance.
“There are a few people you should meet,” he says, his voice low, meant only for me.
I nod, my pulse quickening. This is the part of the evening I’ve been dreading: the part where I step fully into his world, where every word and gesture will be scrutinized by people who wield power like a weapon.
Sin stops first at a cluster of well-dressed men and women standing near the grand floral arrangement in the center of the room. Their laughter dies down as we approach, and all eyes turn to Sin with a mix of respect and wariness.
“Victor,” Sin greets the man at the center, his tone cool but polite. “Good to see you.”
Victor Vosci, the man Bria pointed out earlier, offers a thin smile. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back, and his navy suit fits him like a glove. His eyes flick to me, sharp and calculating.
“And who is this vision by your side?” he asks smoothly, his smile widening but never quite reaching his eyes.
Sin’s hand presses lightly against my back, grounding me. “Magnolia,” he says, his voice steady. “She’s with me.”
Victor’s gaze lingers for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with, but I meet it head-on, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. Finally, he inclines his head. “A pleasure, Magnolia. I see you have good taste, Donati.”
“Always,” Sin replies, his tone cool as ice, before smoothly steering me away from the group.
We move from one circle of influence to another, each introduction more surreal than the last. There’s Margot Laurent, who greets me with a smile that feels as sharp as the diamonds on her mask. Her questions are casual but probing, her eyes glinting with curiosity. I tread carefully, giving polite answers and letting Sin handle the weightier parts of the conversation.
Then there’s Lucian De Luca, who offers a charming smile that doesn’t quite hide the dangerous edge in his demeanor. He comments on my gown, his tone light, but I can feel Sin’s hand tighten slightly on my back—a silent warning that I’m his, and no one else’s .
Each interaction feels like navigating a minefield, but with Sin by my side, I manage to keep my head high and my voice steady. He introduces me not as a passing acquaintance or a guest, but as someone who belongs at his side, and the significance of that isn’t lost on me—or anyone else in the room.
When we finally step away from the crowd, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Sin leans in slightly, his voice warm against my ear.
“You handled that perfectly,” he murmurs.
“Did I?” I ask, glancing up at him. “Because I feel like I just survived a test that I never studied for.”
His lips curve into the faintest smile. “That’s exactly what it was. And you passed.”
I shake my head with a soft laugh, but the warmth in his gaze sends a flicker of pride through me. In his world of power and influence, every word, every look, every gesture is a game of strategy—and tonight, for better or worse, I’m a player.
The orchestra strikes a familiar chord, a soft waltz that flows through the ballroom like a gentle breeze. Sin turns to me, his dark eyes catching the light in a way that makes my breath hitch. The crowd seems to fade as he holds out his hand, his intent clear.
“Dance with me,” he says, his voice low and intimate, a command wrapped in velvet.
I slip my hand into his. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through me, and he pulls me gently onto the center of the dance floor.
The room seems to still, all eyes turning toward us, but Sin doesn’t seem to notice—or care. He places one hand on my waist, his touch firm yet careful, and takes my other hand in his, holding it just between us. The music swells, and with a subtle pull, he leads me into the first step.
I follow instinctively, letting him guide me. His movements are smooth and deliberate, each step precise but unhurried. It’s as if he’s drawing me into his rhythm, weaving me into the melody itself.
“You’re light on your feet,” he murmurs, his tone teasing but sincere.
“And you’re a better dancer than I expected,” I counter, a nervous smile tugging at my lips.
His eyes narrow slightly, amused. “I had excellent teachers.”
The conversation falls away as we move together, the music enveloping us. I can feel the strength in his hold, the quiet control in the way he leads, but there’s a softness too, a tenderness that surprises me.
As we turn, the chandelier lights catch the glittering diamonds in my mask, casting tiny rainbows across the marble floor. I glance up at Sin, and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room. His gaze is fixed on me, unwavering and filled with something I can’t quite name.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Heat blooms in my cheeks, and I glance down briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Thank you,” I reply softly. “You clean up well yourself.”
He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates through his chest and settles somewhere deep inside me. “Magnolia,” he says, his voice dipping to something almost reverent, “you’re more than beautiful. You’re… everything.”
Sin draws me closer, our steps slowing slightly as the waltz reaches its crescendo. I can feel the heat of his body through the layers of my gown, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around me like a secret.
As the final notes of the waltz fade into the air, he doesn’t let go. His hand lingers at my waist, his eyes searching mine as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.
I feel breathless, unmoored, as he leans in slightly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the applause.
“Magnolia,” he murmurs, “I think I’ve been waiting for this dance my whole life.”
My heart twists, and I don’t know what to say.
“Would you give it all up for me?” I dare to ask, surprised that the dance wasn’t ending at all, the beat picks up again.
His hesitation makes me pause, but before I can say anything else I’m whisked into the arms of another person.
The transition is seamless, and I find myself in the hands of an older gentleman with kind eyes. His mask is silver, simple yet dignified, and his smile is warm as he guides me into the next set of steps.
“You must be Magnolia,” he says, his voice rich with the gravelly tone of age and experience.
I blink, surprised. “Yes, that’s me. And you are?”
“Lorenzo,” he replies with a small bow of his head. “An old friend of the Donati family. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sin speaks very highly of you. ”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but smile. “Does he now?”
“Very much so,” Lorenzo says, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “And after meeting you, I can see why.”
There’s something comforting about him, a steadiness that reminds me of an anchor in the storm of this night. He’s an excellent dancer, his movements smooth and practiced, and for a brief moment, I feel at ease.
The next transition comes quicker than I expect. Lorenzo releases me with a polite nod, and my hand is taken by another partner. This time, the grip is firm, confident.
I glance up to meet the eyes of a man in a black suit with a deep red mask. His features are sharp, his jaw set, and his gaze intense as he leads me into the next steps. There’s a flicker of recognition, but I can’t place it quite yet.
“You look different than usual.” he says, his tone low and smooth.
“Cameron!” I grin, the man that visits almost daily now at work. “What are you doing here?”
He smiles faintly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just because I go to Alice in Brewland doesn’t mean I don’t belong in high society.” He does a small bow that makes me laugh.
“I know,” I chuckle. “It’s just funny seeing you here of all places.”
He doesn’t answer right away, instead spinning me in a graceful arc before pulling me back into the rhythm of the dance. “But the Donati family?” He shakes his head. “You’re not safe here.”
The music swells, the movement of the crowd pulling us closer and then apart. My heart pounds, confusion and something deeper—something unspoken—swirling in my chest. There’s a weight in his gaze, a meaning I can’t quite decipher.
Before I can ask more, the dance comes to an end, and Cameron steps back, bowing slightly.
“It was a pleasure, Magnolia,” he says, his voice soft but loaded with something I can’t name.
My breath hitches, and I look through the crowd of dancing people, for Sin. Was that a warning that Cameron gave me?
Sin appears at my side, his hand finding mine once more. His presence is grounding, pulling me back to the moment.
The night has already unfolded in a blur of music, masks, and hidden whispers, but it’s the quiet tension that follows the last dance that grips me. Sin’s hand rests against my lower back as he leads me away from the crowd, his movements still smooth, though there’s a sharp edge to his gaze I can’t ignore.
We step outside onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The stars above seem to mock the chaos brewing between us, their cold, distant light nothing like the warmth I felt only moments ago in his arms.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice tight with the weight of what I’ve been holding back all night.
He glances at me, his eyes narrowed, his jaw set in a way that I know all too well. “Now isn’t the time, Magnolia. This is a night for celebration.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “No. This is exactly the time. We can’t keep ignoring it.”
His brows furrow, and he takes a step closer, his towering presence suddenly filling the space between us. “Ignoring what?”
“You,” I snap, frustration lacing my words. “You and this life you’re living. You can’t just keep pretending everything is fine, Sin. You’re a mafia boss, and you’re dragging everyone around you into it. Would you give it all up for me? For us?” I ask again.
His eyes flash with something dangerous, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to snap. But then he exhales, slow and controlled, his tone clipped. “I’m doing what I have to do.” He edges us to the emptier side of the balcony, but everyone is going back inside anyways. Giving us a private moment.
“No,” I retort, my voice rising. “You don’t have to. You could leave. You could walk away from all of this.”
Sin’s gaze hardens, the mask of control slipping just enough for me to see the anger simmering beneath the surface. “You think I haven’t thought about it? You think I haven’t wanted to leave this life behind? But it’s not that simple, Magnolia.”
“Why?” I demand, stepping closer to him, my chest tight with frustration. “Why isn’t it that simple? You have the power to change everything. You could be free. We could be free.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I feel the weight of them pressing down on me, but I refuse to back down.
Sin’s lips press into a thin line, his nostrils flaring slightly as he holds my gaze. “You think I haven’t tried? You think I haven’t tried to walk away from all this blood and violence? From everything my father built? I can’t just walk away, Magnolia. It’s not a choice—it’s a responsibility. The Donati family isn’t just a name, it’s a legacy.”
“Then why don’t you break it?” I almost choke on the words, my voice cracking with the rawness of the emotion spilling out. “Why don’t you change it? Why do you have to keep going down this path? You say it’s about responsibility, but you’re killing yourself for it. For what? Power? Control? You don’t even get to have a choice.”
I can see the flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret—but it’s gone in a flash, buried beneath a layer of resolve. He steps away from me, pacing slowly as he runs a hand through his dark hair.
“You don’t understand,” he mutters, the words coming out like a low growl. “You don’t know what it’s like. What it costs to walk away. I can’t just… stop. It’s not that simple, Magnolia. There are lives at stake. People I care about. People I’ve promised to protect.”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of the man I thought I knew. The man who held me in his arms just hours ago and spoke of a future, of dreams that were just ours. This man, the one standing in front of me now, is a stranger I don’t recognize.
“I don’t want to live in your world anymore,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
He freezes, his back still turned to me, and for a long moment, neither of us speaks.
“You’re asking me to leave everything,” he says quietly, his voice barely a murmur. “Everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve fought for. ”
I reply, the words tasting bitter in my mouth, “I’m asking you to choose me over this life. Over the mafia.”
Sin turns then, his eyes locking onto mine, and in them, I see something raw and real—a vulnerability he’s never shown me before. “I can’t just walk away from everything, Magnolia. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I want you more than anything.”
“Then prove it,” I say, my voice breaking with the weight of my heart. “Prove it to me. Show me you can choose me. Choose us. I’m not telling you to quit your family, Sin.”
“Quitting this life is quitting my family, Magnolia. How do you not see that?” he grates out.
The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, and I feel my chest tighten as I wait for his answer. But all he does is look at me—his gaze unreadable, the space between us charged with a thousand unsaid words.
I turn then, unable to look at him anymore. The distance between us is too much, and yet it’s only growing. I walk away, leaving him behind in the night, the weight of the unspoken hanging like a shadow over everything.
I escape through the crowd, dashing past Bria as tears rush down my cheeks. I walk into his room, pull a sheet of paper out and write a letter to him with trembling fingers.
Sin,
Books are the only thing that have made me understand the world.
My life has been so limited, so terribly small until I met you.
You’ve made my world a book and I can never thank you enough for that.
But I can’t do this, I can’t live this life. By doing so you’re just chaining me to danger. In this way, you took me in with open arms and locked the door behind me, Sin.
I can never watch you bleed out on a kitchen counter again.
I will love you for the rest of my life.
Don’t come looking for me, please.
Love always, Magnolia
The words scald my fingers as I write them, but it needs to be said. I rest it on top of a copy of Romeo and Juliet that I bought for him.
I grab my coat and slip downstairs, forgoing the crowd and walking to the security room where I know Maxwell will be. I can’t stay here. I can’t stand to be under his watchful eyes, to be trapped in the life he’s chosen when I’ve already made my choice.
Max looks shocked by my appearance. “Are you okay?” he stands.
“Yes.” I nod. “I just need to get out of here.”
He places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Done. Where to?”
“I don’t know,” I laugh without humor. “Please, Max.”
Outside, the air feels sharp against my skin, but it’s strangely freeing, as though I’m shedding something heavy with every step I take. I walk quickly toward the car waiting by the driveway; Maxwell is in the driver’s seat, his stoic face offering no judgment.
But as I reach the gate, about to slip into the world I’ve chosen for myself, I hear it—the sound of footsteps, fast and heavy, the unmistakable presence of Sin closing in on me.
I freeze.
“Magnolia,” his voice calls out, rough with desperation. “Stop.”
I don’t turn around, but my heart stutters. I want to turn. I want to run to him, to tell him I’ve made a mistake. But I can’t. I know I can’t.
“Please,” he says, his voice strained. I hear him getting closer, and finally, I can’t stop myself from turning.
He’s there, standing a few feet away, his expression dark and fierce, but beneath it, there’s something raw—something pleading. His chest rises and falls from the exertion of running, his jacket slightly askew, his hair falling out of place. My note is clutched in his hands.
“Magnolia, please,” he says again, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let you go. I can’t lose you. I’ll go with you, wherever you want. Just—just don’t leave me.”
I swallow, the words lodged in my throat. I take a step towards him, nodding my head. “So, you’ll give it up. ”
His eyes darken, a flash of anger and hurt crossing his features, but then it softens, and the vulnerability in his eyes hits me like a wave. “I don’t care about this,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you, but I can’t walk away from this. It’s not that easy.”
My breath catches in my throat, the weight of his words crushing me, but I stand firm. I have to. I can’t let him drag me back into a life I know will destroy us both.
“I’m not asking you to leave everything, Sin. Now, I’m asking you to let me go.”
There’s a silence that stretches between us, thick and painful. I can see the anguish in his eyes, the desperation clawing at him. He steps forward again, his hand reaching out like he’s trying to close the space between us, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
“This is the only way,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
His hand drops to his side, his entire body deflating as the realization hits him. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers, the words like a broken record, and for a moment, I see the man he could have been—if he weren’t bound by blood, by loyalty to a life he never wanted but inherited all the same.
“I’m sorry, Sin,” I say, my voice thick with unshed tears. “But I can’t save you. You have to save yourself.”
“I can’t .”
I step back towards the car, placing my hand on the handle, inviting him. “I will not watch you kill yourself,” I refuse, and all I see is red. The red of the blood that came from him. “We will not end up like Romeo and Juliet. ”
“I cannot go.” The way he’s looking at me, with his voice cracking, it tears me apart inside as I climb into the backseat.
“And I cannot stay.”
As we pull away, I glance in the rearview mirror. Sin is still standing there in the driveway, watching me go. I see his figure grow smaller in the distance, and the aching of my heart kills me.
I know I’m asking for a lot, but his life is worth more than all of this. Me, him, and Bria could escape, run away, and live happily ever after somewhere safer.
I try to put myself in his shoes, realizing that I’m just me. He has so much riding on him. A father, sister, cousins. It’s easy for me to judge because when I leave, like I am now, there is no one waiting for me.
I told myself I couldn’t do it—couldn’t live in his world of darkness and danger. It’s too risky, too uncertain, too unlike anything I ever imagined for myself. But as I sit in this car leaving it all behind, something gnaws at me, pulling at the edges of my resolve.
I close my eyes and try to steady my breath, but the harder I try to shut it all out, the louder my thoughts become.
This isn’t just about danger. It’s about fear. Not of Sin’s world, but of how much I need him.
I see his face in my mind—the way his eyes softened when they looked at me tonight, the way his lips quirked into a rare, genuine smile when he thought no one was watching. I hear his voice, low and steady, calling me “Bella” with a warmth no one else has ever given me .
Sin is a force, a man carved from iron and shadows, but with me, he’s something else. He’s vulnerable, raw, and real.
And I’m walking away from that.
I clutch my jacket, the realization hitting me like a wave crashing over the shore. I’m not leaving to protect myself. I’m leaving because I’m afraid. Afraid that if I stay, I’ll never be able to live without him.
And isn’t that what love is supposed to be?
The truth is, I’ve already made my choice. I made it the moment I stepped into Sin’s world and let him see all of me—the orphan girl with nothing but her dreams and scars. I chose him when I let him pull me into the darkness, trusting that his hand in mine would be enough to light the way.
I don’t want to run. I want to fight. For him. For us.
I don’t care about the risks. I don’t care about the danger. All I care about is him.
Sin Donati is my home, my anchor in this storm of a world, and I’ll be damned if I let fear take me away from him.
“Turn around,” I cry to Maxwell, realizing that I need Sin as much as he needs me. It’s time to stop this madness; it’s time to communicate.
Max peers up at me from the rearview mirror. “You sure, Magnolia?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m done running.”
Maxwell looks forward, his eyes narrowing into slits.
The locks engage.
And he doesn’t turn around.
My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, staring at the door. I reach for the handle instinctively, but it won’t budge. My breath catches in my throat, a sinking feeling grows in my stomach.
“Max?” I say, my voice trembling. “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond. The car continues its smooth, steady pace, turning down streets I don’t recognize. Panic bubbles in my chest, and I tug again at the locked door, the grip of the outside world slipping farther away with every passing moment.
“Max!” I shout, but my voice cracks, filled with fear. “Where are you taking me?”
He turns his head briefly, his eyes betraying nothing, his face a mask of calm. “You’re not going back, Miss Finley. I have orders.”
Orders? My mind races, confusion mixing with panic. Orders from who? My heart hammers in my chest as the realization begins to creep over me. Max wasn’t so eager to help me escape because he cares for me. This was about keeping me away from Sin.
I’m being taken.