Sabrina, the sweet, bubbly girl next door, never imagined being pulled into a world of danger. But meeting Julian, a captivating mafia member with a dark past, changes everything.
As she falls for him, she's torn between love and the dangerous secr...
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The street outside Matteo's house is dim, shadows stretching across the empty driveway as I approach. I don't know why I keep coming here, or maybe I do, but I don't want to admit it.
I tell myself I'm just looking for a drink, maybe a distraction, but deep down, it's more than that. It's about filling the emptiness left by the way everything's changed.
Standing at Matteo's door, I hesitate for a second before knocking. It's strange, this ritual. Matteo barely seems to be here anymore, but his absence hasn't stopped me from showing up.
It's almost like I'm visiting the ghost of a friendship that was once the closest thing I had to family.
The door swings open, and there she is—Camilla, leaning against the frame with that unmistakable smirk.
Light hair cascading over her shoulder, eyes sharp, all wrapped in a defiant air that I used to find intriguing.
Now, it just feels familiar, a constant that makes me feel a little less out of place.
"Miss me already?" Her voice carries that teasing lilt, an edge that she always seems to wear, like armor.
"Not quite." I step past her, brushing off the comment. "Thought I'd see if there was anything worth drinking."
She shuts the door, following me into the dim living room. I head to the bar, pouring a couple of drinks without asking.
The silence stretches between us, easy and heavy all at once, like there's something unspoken hanging in the air that neither of us has the energy to confront.
Camilla sinks into the old leather chair across from me, watching as I hand her a glass. She doesn't ask why I'm here; she already knows, and I'm not in the mood to explain anyway.
Instead, she raises her glass in a wordless toast, and I clink mine against hers, letting the whiskey burn its way down, settling something restless inside.
For a while, we just sit there, drinking in silence, the unspoken understanding between us stronger than any words we could say. Eventually, I break the quiet. "Matteo around?"
She snorts, rolling her eyes. "Nope. He's with Valentina, as usual." There's a bitter undertone to her voice, though it's masked by that familiar smirk. "Haven't talked to him in... well, since that day."
She doesn't need to elaborate. I know what day she means—the day everything started to fall apart, the day Matteo's focus shifted entirely to Valentina.
It's like she's the only thing left in his world.
That's what's been hardest to stomach—that someone like Matteo, so rooted in loyalty, has no space left for the people who were once closest to him.
Camilla catches my expression and sighs, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "We're all just extras in their perfect little tragedy, aren't we?"
"Seems that way." I take another sip, the bitterness of the whiskey matching the bitterness of the thought. There was a time Matteo was like a brother, the closest thing I'd had to family, and now... now I'm not sure what's left.
