Cover - 'Qissa E Khayali' on Instagram
Sinscared Series #1
A forbidden love.
A betrayal lurking in the shadows.
And a world built on blood, deception, and vengeance.
Serafina Moretti, the fierce underboss of the Italian mafia, has never let love...
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The next morning, we returned home, weary but satisfied with the previous night's accomplishments.
The house, usually a sanctuary of comfort, seemed to hum with a peculiar tension.
Eleanor greeted us with a strained smile, her eyes narrowing slightly as she saw Lucien and me together.
Her demeanor was anything but warm, starkly contrasting to the usual friendliness I'd grown accustomed to.
"Welcome back," she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Did you have a good trip?"
"Productive," Lucien replied, oblivious to the underlying tension. "Everything went smoothly."
I nodded in agreement, but Eleanor's behavior was hard to ignore.
She was no longer the friendly, supportive presence I was used to.
Instead, she seemed to radiate jealousy and resentment.
After exchanging polite but terse pleasantries, Lucien and I retreated to the sanctuary of our room to decompress.
I slipped into something more comfortable and tried to shake off the discomfort Eleanor's behavior had caused.
We relaxed throughout the morning, but by afternoon, it was time to get back to business.
I called my men home, unable to summon the energy to even lift my makeup brush or change into something more businesslike.
My favorite casual outfit seemed the only thing I could bear to wear.
Luca, Massimo, Lorenzo, and Alessio arrived around noon, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.
We settled in the balcony since the conference room was occupied by the French people.
It felt good to be back in the familiar rhythm of our work, away from the suffocating tension of the previous night.
Our main topic was retaliation against the Russians.
"The attack on my house is the next thing I will seek vengeance for."
They had destroyed my favorite 2000-year-old Taiwanese vase, a cherished piece that had once been a rustic sanctuary for my fake ivory peonies.
Their audacity was infuriating.
"The Grand Conclave was a hit, wasn't it?" Luca asked, his gaze curious as he poured himself a glass of wine.
"Yeah, nearly beheaded Dimitri's favorite Morozov," I chuckled.
"Christ, why?", Lorenzo asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.
"He was creating a scene there," I explained, rolling my eyes. "You know, the typical Russian shit bag routine. I had to take the opportunity to put him in his place."
