I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
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Donatella POV:
The door creaked open like it knew it was interrupting something, and there he was—Amir. Dressed in his usual black joggers and that stupid tight white T-shirt that clung to him like it had beef with my self-control. His curls were still slightly damp, skin glowy from whatever skincare routine he kept pretending he didn’t do.
He walked in like he owned the damn place—because of course he did—and paused, raising a brow when he saw me still sitting on the bed, staring at the door like a ghost just walked through it.
“You good?” he asked, already suspicious. He had that tone. The ‘you did something reckless again and I’m about to lose five years off my life’ tone.
I leaned back on my palms, pretending my brain wasn’t still malfunctioning from the Luca conversation. “Yeah. Just… dealing with emotional warfare.”
He blinked. “Did someone try to hug you again?”
I snorted. “Close. Luca.”
Amir sighed like that explained everything. “Ah. The human Labrador.” He walked over and flopped down next to me on the bed without asking. “What happened?”
“He asked if I ever felt like something was missing during the years I was gone,” I muttered, picking at the frayed edge of my blanket. “Said he feels like something’s still missing. That he wants to get to know me again.”
Amir tilted his head. “And you’re panicking because…?”
“Because I told him things, Amir. Harmless stuff, but still. I’m not supposed to do that. We’re not supposed to get attached. This is a mission.”
He leaned back on his elbows. “You’re not a robot, Donatella.”
“Don’t start with the therapist talk. I’m serious.” I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. “The second we start feeling things, making connections, they’re gonna be used against us. You know that.”
He didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at me like he was trying to see past the surface, like always. It was annoying.
“What did you tell him?” he asked finally.
I shrugged. “Stupid stuff. That I don’t like popcorn. That I wanted to be wolf royalty. That I made him eat dirt once.”
Amir blinked. “You made him eat dirt?”
“Character building.”
“Yeah okay, you’re definitely not emotionally stable enough to be getting close to anyone.”
I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”
He grinned, but then his eyes softened a bit. “Still… sounds like you remembered something good. That matters.”
I sighed and dropped back on the bed beside him. We lay there in silence for a second, staring at the ceiling.
“I hate how nice they all are,” I muttered. “It makes this whole thing way harder.”
