Milan — Midnight — Club Veludo (Sinclair’s territory)
The music was thunder in the walls — sensual, rich, like sin poured into velvet. Red and gold lights shimmered above the crowd, bodies twisting like smoke on the dance floor. In the back, a private mezzanine hung over it all — draped in shadows, guarded by men in black.
And he was there.
Matthew Theodore Sinclair.
Dark shirt unbuttoned just enough. A glass of something expensive in hand. One leg over the other, his fingers dragging a slow circle on the rim of his glass.
Unbothered. Until she walked in.
She didn’t wait for invitation or clearance. She simply appeared — like she always had. A vision in black: silk blouse tucked into a tight skirt, leather coat slung over one shoulder, heels like weapons. Hair sleek, parted. No wig. No mask.
Just her.
Angela Isabella Ferrari Hughes.
The ghost he was never able to bury.
He saw her before his guards did. And in that second, time cracked open.
> No. It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t dare.
But she did.
She walked past security like they didn’t exist. Because she knew she didn’t need permission. Not from him. Not from anyone.
Her heels echoed up the steps to his mezzanine. The guards reached — he waved them off with a single flick of his hand.
She stopped two feet from him.
> “You always were good at pretending,” she said.
He didn’t speak. Just looked at her like a fever he thought he’d sweated out.
> “What lie?” he asked, voice low.
She smiled, slow and dangerous.
> “You tell me.”
She sat across from him like she owned the room. Because tonight — she did.
He poured her a glass. Neat. No words. He knew what she liked. Still did.
Their eyes locked. Music roared below. But here, on this perch above Milan, it was just the two of them and everything that never burned out.
> “I dreamed of you,” he said at last.
> “Nightmares, I hope.”
> “No. Worse. Hope.”
The silence thickened. She drank. So did he.
Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
> “So here’s how this is going to work,” she said. “I ask. You answer. I get what I came for. And maybe—just maybe—I don’t burn your little empire to the ground.”
He exhaled, the edge of a smirk tugging at his mouth.
> “Still dramatic, I see.”
> “Still breathing, I see.”
Their chemistry was molten, masked by the chill in her voice and the steel in his.
He leaned closer.
> “You came all this way to threaten me?”
She licked her lips, slow.
> “No, Matthew. I came all this way to see if I still wanted to kill you.”
YOU ARE READING
MAFIA QUEEN
Storie breviAfter the 3 sentries she is born, the only girl in the family. But they are not the ordinary people they are famous Italian Mafia. THE FERRARI FAMILY But they lost her because of the work they are in and because of their reputation. ************...
