HIS

Chapter 4

Domenico's POV

"Hey Livy, burning the midnight oil again?" Marco called out, his voice warm and familiar.
I froze, taken aback, watching my uncle greet this girl with the ease and affection of a father.
"Marco! It's always a good day when I see you," she said with a cheerful grin, pulling out a container and handing it over. "I was covering a shift for a coworker tonight, but I've got the weekend off. Brought your favorite—hope you love it," she added, leaning in for another hug.

I almost did a double take. A hug? Homemade dessert? Since when did we start embracing strangers—or eating their food, no questions asked? We were raised in the Mafia. Trust isn't given freely, no matter how sweet the smile. Poison wears many disguises.
Marco hugged her back with one arm, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. "You're exactly what my soul needed," he said with a grin, popping open the container and licking his lips. "Thank you, my darling."
I stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of it. This was Marco—the same man who could silence a room with a single look. And now? He looked like a proud father, all warmth and ease.
Who was this girl?

"No problem. I've never met a night owl with such a weakness for chocolate cake," she said with a laugh, tossing her head back.

Then she turned—and spotted us. Luca and I stood a few feet away, silent observers. Her laughter faded as her gaze locked onto ours. She seemed to assess us, uncertain for a beat. We didn't move, still reeling from the unexpected scene. Even Luca, usually quick with a quip, was unusually quiet.

Marco cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "Livy, this is my sister's son, Domenico," he said, motioning to me. "And his best friend, Luca."
She stepped forward and extended her hand to Luca. "Nice to meet you. I'm Olivia."
Luca took her hand, still visibly intrigued.

Then she turned to me, hand outstretched. I hesitated, staring at it for a beat too long. There was something about her—something that threw me off balance. I couldn't bring myself to take her hand. Instead, I gave a small nod, keeping my face carefully blank. She probably thought I was being rude—and maybe I was—but that was safer. She didn't need to get close to someone like me.

Still, I caught myself glaring at her. Why? I couldn't say. It was like she carried some kind of invisible gravity, bending the air around her. I wasn't used to women like her—whatever it was she was.

"I should get going," she said, turning back to Marco. "It's late, and my bed's calling."
"Get home safe, sweetheart," Marco said, giving her shoulder another affectionate pat.
"Thanks, Marco. I'll see you next week—same time, same place," she replied with a smile, offering us a polite wave before heading off.

We watched her walk away, our eyes following her until she vanished down the street. Only then did Marco turn to me, his expression clouded with irritation.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. "Why were you so cold to my angel?"

I arched a brow. "Why are you so defensive over some girl? Is she family or something?"

"No, genius. She's like the daughter I never had," he snapped. "She's kind, respectful, and has a good heart. I make sure I'm around when she finishes work—these streets aren't exactly safe. She doesn't know it, but I've arranged with her manager to keep me posted on her shifts. I just want to make sure she's looked after."

"She's a knockout," Luca added, nudging me. "Did you see that figure?"

Marco smacked him on the back of the head. "Say something like that again, and you'll be sipping meals through a straw for the rest of your life. She's off-limits. Too pure for either of you."

I let out a rare laugh—couldn't help it. The whole thing felt unreal. But beneath the amusement, a thought lingered: what if she wasn't as innocent as she seemed? What if she had a reason for getting close to Marco?

"So," I said, curiosity creeping in, "what's her story?"

Marco's expression softened as he spoke. "She's been working at the diner down the block for a few months now. Said her dad's some kind of businessman, but they're not close. Didn't share much beyond that. She lives alone in a small flat nearby. Sweet as they come. Brings me my favorite cake every week. She has no idea I only show up when I know she's on shift."

He let out a quiet sigh. "She's different. If I ever had a daughter, I'd want her to be just like Olivia. Even your aunt's crazy about her. We bumped into her at the grocery store once, and she practically tried to adopt the girl on the spot."

It was obvious—this girl meant something to him.

"How old is she? Got a boyfriend?" Luca asked, already scheming.

"She's nineteen," Marco said, his tone sharpening. He jabbed a finger in Luca's direction. "And don't even think about it. She's not one of your weekend distractions. She's not cut out for your kind of chaos."

"Hey, don't look at me," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "I'm not interested."
A lie, obviously. She had my attention more than I cared to admit.

"I wouldn't complain," Luca said with a smirk. "You know what they say about the quiet ones..."

Marco's glare could've cut steel. He jabbed a finger inches from Luca's face. "You'd chase anything that breathes. But I'm telling you now—stay away from her. One wrong move, and I'll put you in the ground myself."

I chuckled again, but Marco wasn't in the mood.

"Wipe that grin off your face before I lose my patience," he snapped. "You're not too grown for a good beating."

I straightened, the humor draining from my face. "Come on, Luca. Let's go check on the warehouses. Time for a little surprise inspection."

Marco looked over at me. "You sticking around for a while?"

"Might be permanent," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Depends on how things play out."

"Alright. Stay sharp, boys. I'll catch you around."

We said our goodbyes and walked off. It was time to shake the dust off this town. People had gotten too comfortable while we were gone—and I was here to remind them exactly who they were dealing with.

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