THE MAFIA’S PRIDE

Drawn to you

Vivian POV

I stared at him, my heart refusing to settle.

Nothing about tonight made sense.

Five days ago, Damien had looked me straight in the eyes and asked me the cruelest question imaginable.

Who are you?

Tonight…

He had arrived just in time to save my life.

He had carried me into his home.

Called a doctor.

Stayed by my bedside.

None of it added up.

I searched his face, hoping to find the answer hidden somewhere behind those unreadable grey eyes.

Instead…

I found nothing.

“How…” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “How did you know I was in danger?”

For several moments, Damien didn’t answer.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the rain crash against the glass.

His broad shoulders were tense.

His expression was impossible to read.

Finally, he turned to face me.

“I don’t know what happened during the last six months of my life,” he said calmly. “When you claimed to be my wife…”

He paused.

“…I didn’t believe you.”

A dull ache settled in my chest.

I’d expected those words.

They still hurt.

“So I started asking questions,” he continued. “I looked into your background. I tried to verify your claims.”

I held my breath.

“I found nothing.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket.

“What do you mean… nothing?” I asked quietly.

“There were no marriage records I could find. No public photographs. No evidence connecting you to me.”

His gaze remained fixed on mine.

“At first, I assumed you were lying.”

The words landed harder than I expected.

I lowered my eyes.

Of course he had.

If our positions were reversed…

I probably would have done the same.

“But then,” he said, breaking the silence, “I started asking myself a different question.”

Slowly, I looked back at him.

“What if you weren’t?”

The room fell silent.

“If your claim is true,” he continued, “then someone has gone to extraordinary lengths to erase every trace of you from my life.”

A chill crept down my spine.

“I wasn’t willing to ignore that possibility.”

His voice remained steady.

“So I had my men keep an eye on you.”

My eyes widened.

“You… what?”

“It was the only way to know whether you were simply telling a convincing lie…”

He paused.

“…or whether someone wanted me to believe you never existed.”

My mind struggled to process his words.

Everything suddenly felt much bigger than either of us.

Then Damien’s expression hardened.

“When someone tried to kill you tonight…”

He exhaled slowly.

“…I realized this wasn’t a coincidence.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“Whoever stole six months of my life…”

He paused just long enough for the weight of his words to settle between us.

“…knows exactly who you are.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Every threat.

Every unanswered question.

Every impossible coincidence.

For the first time…

They all seemed connected.

Damien took a slow step toward me.

“Until we find out the truth…”

His voice was calm, leaving no room for argument.

“I want you to stay here.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

Five days ago…

He had looked me in the eyes and told me he didn’t know who I was.

Now…

He wanted me to stay.

Not as his wife.

As someone standing in the middle of the same storm.

I took a slow breath.

“If I stay,” I said, meeting his gaze, “it won’t be simply because you asked me to.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I almost died tonight.”

The image of the assassin raising his gun flashed through my mind.

“Someone wanted me dead.”

I paused before continuing.

“And someone wanted you to forget the last six months of your life.”

The room fell quiet.

Neither of us needed to say it aloud.

The two attacks were connected.

“I’ve spent too much of my life searching for answers,” I said softly. “I’m not walking away now.”

My voice grew steadier with every word.

“If somebody is willing to erase evidence… erase memories… and silence anyone who gets too close…”

I shook my head.

“Then I need to know why.”

I held his gaze.

“So I’ll stay.”

“I’ll help you recover your memories.”

“And I’ll help uncover whoever is behind all of this.”

For a moment, Damien simply studied me.

His expression remained unreadable, but I caught the faintest nod.

“Good,” he said.

He walked toward me, stopping a few feet from the bed.

“From this moment on, we stop waiting for answers.”

His grey eyes locked onto mine.

“We find them ourselves.”

Something shifted between us.

He still couldn’t remember loving me.

I still hadn’t told him the whole truth about why I’d entered his life.

Yet we had reached the same decision.

Whoever had planned this…

Had just turned two targets into two people determined to fight back.

“I’ve asked the maid to prepare the guest room for you,” Damien said.

Almost on cue, a maid appeared at the doorway.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

The guest room.

We were going to sleep in separate rooms.

A dull ache spread through my chest.

This was the same man who used to pull me back into his arms whenever I tried to get out of bed in the middle of the night. The same man who claimed he couldn’t sleep unless he was holding me.

Now…

He was sending me to a guest room.

I forced myself to nod, but it did nothing to stop the sting behind my eyes.

A single tear slipped down my cheek before I quickly wiped it away.

He didn’t remember.

How could I expect him to?

Without saying a word, I picked up my bag and followed the maid down the hallway.

The room she led me to was beautiful—elegant, spacious, and warm.

But it wasn’t ours.

The realization settled heavily in my chest.

I wrapped my arms around myself and drew in a slow, unsteady breath.

Maybe a shower was exactly what I needed.

The shower should have helped.

Instead, the hot water only gave me more time to think.

I stood beneath the spray far longer than I intended, letting it wash away the dried blood, the rain, and the exhaustion clinging to my body.

If only it could wash away the ache in my chest.

Eventually, I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around myself.

As I stepped into the bedroom, my gaze drifted toward the walk-in closet.

It was slightly open.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I pulled the door wider.

My breath caught.

Rows of women’s clothes hung neatly inside.

Dresses.

Blouses.

Jeans.

Sweaters.

Even pajamas.

Every shelf had been carefully arranged, and several pairs of shoes sat beneath them.

For a long moment, I simply stared.

Damien had bought these.

For me.

Not because I needed them.

Because he wanted me to have everything I could ever need whenever I was here.

My fingers brushed over the sleeve of a cream-colored sweater.

A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips.

“You really did think of everything,” I whispered.

Except…

Neither of us had imagined a day when you’d forget why.

I chose a simple oversized sweatshirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts before getting dressed.

The fabric still carried the faint scent of fresh laundry.

When I finally climbed into bed, I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep.

It never came.

Instead, memories of Damien and me flooded my mind, one after another.

Moments filled with love.

With laughter.

With promises.

Moments that now felt like they belonged to another lifetime.

I turned onto my side.

Then onto my back.

Sleep remained frustratingly out of reach.

With a quiet sigh, I reached for my phone.

The screen lit up.

2:03 a.m.

“So much for sleeping,” I muttered.

Throwing the blanket aside, I slipped into my slippers and quietly left the room.

Maybe a glass of water would help.

Or warm milk.

The mansion was silent as I made my way downstairs, the only sound the soft tapping of my footsteps against the polished floor.

As I approached the kitchen, a warm glow spilled into the hallway.

Someone was awake.

I stepped inside.

Damien stood by the kitchen island, a mug in one hand. Dressed in a charcoal T-shirt and dark sweatpants, he looked far more relaxed than the impeccably dressed billionaire the world knew.

At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up.

Our eyes met.

For a brief moment, neither of us spoke.

It was just the two of us…

Standing in the quiet kitchen at two in the morning.

“You’re awake?” Damien asked.

“Yeah.” A small smile found its way to my lips. “I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“The same problem.” He took a sip from his mug. “Sleep doesn’t seem to like either of us tonight.”

A soft chuckle escaped me before I walked over to the refrigerator.

I took out a bottle of water, grabbed a glass, and poured myself a drink.

As I lifted the glass to my lips, my eyes drifted to the intricate black tattoos that ran from Damien’s forearm to the back of his hand.

I had always admired them.

“Something on my arm?” he asked, catching me staring.

My cheeks warmed.

“Uh… no.” I smiled sheepishly. “I was just looking at your tattoos.”

He glanced down at the ink before letting out a quiet laugh.

“I don’t even remember getting these.”

“You have another one,” I said before I could stop myself.

He looked up.

“Another one?”

I nodded.

“On your chest.”

Curiosity flickered across his face.

Without another word, he set his mug on the kitchen island and slipped his shirt over his head.

My breath caught.

His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and the black ink spread across his skin came into view.

He turned toward the full-length mirror nearby.

For a moment, he simply stared.

Then his eyes settled on the tattoo over the left side of his chest.

One word.

Vivi.

Beneath it was a small heart.

His expression changed.

Slowly…

Almost imperceptibly…

He turned to look at me.

Our eyes met.

Something in his gaze had shifted.

It wasn’t recognition.

Not quite.

But it was softer.

Warmer.

As though his heart knew something his mind couldn’t explain.

Without breaking eye contact, he took a slow step toward me.

Then another.

Instinctively, I stepped backward.

Another step.

Until my back gently met the refrigerator.

He stopped only inches away.

Close enough for me to hear his breathing.

Close enough for me to wonder whether, just for a second…

His heart remembered me.

“Why do I feel so attached to you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he closed the small distance between us.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

“I…”

The words refused to come.

Before I could say anything, he gently placed a finger against my lips.

“Don’t,” he murmured.

His gaze never left mine.

“You might like what I’m about to do…”

A faint, almost nervous smile touched his lips.

“…or you might not.”

Before I could process his words, he leaned in.

His lips captured mine in a slow, tentative kiss.

It wasn’t driven by memory.

It wasn’t fueled by certainty.

It was instinct.

Gentle.

Unhurried.

Questioning.

As though his heart was searching for an answer his mind could no longer remember.

For me…

It felt like finding a piece of my soul that I thought I’d lost.

Tears gathered behind my closed eyes as I kissed him back, silently praying that somewhere, beneath the forgotten memories…

The man I loved was finding his way back to me.