The Don's Secret Heiresses

“Bombed?” Enzo Romano’s voice was quiet, low enough to freeze the man on the other end of the line. The tightening of his jaw was the only indication of visible emotions, but oh he was pissed alright. Nobody dared to cross the Romanos, doing so meant death: The painful kind. But yet somebody had. Somebody had thought that messing with the only thing he held dear was a good step for power. It was a declaration of war. “Yes, Don Romano,” Luca Vieri answered quickly. “The warehouses. And…” He hesitated. “The penthouse. There’s nothing left of it. It went up like…” “Five seconds,” Enzo said, cutting him off, voice calm as glass. “That’s how long you have to tell me why I’m just hearing about this now.” Silence. Luca stammered, “We…we got the call minutes ago. I’m securing what’s left of the shipments and calling the capos in. You should…” “Speak, Luca.” Enzo’s jaw tightened. Every second wasted on excuses made him itch to burn down Moretti territories himself. And yet…he couldn’t ignore the thought gnawing at him. He needed to pick up his daughter from school today. His baby girl. His little light. It had been a whole week. Hands clenched around the phone, he tried not to think about how sad she looked when she waved him goodbye last. He realized his underboss was still stammering his poor attempt at an explanation. Luca Vieri was almost hopeless, but when he was not required to talk he was deadly on the field, and equally loyal. Every don needed at least one loyal man, for him Luca had been that person. “Have them seated in five minutes,” Enzo interrupted. “I’ll be there.” “Where?” He ended the call. Enzo slid his gun into its holster, straightened the cuffs of his suit, and walked out of the burning ruin of his morning with the quiet precision of a man accustomed to violence. His penthouses could burn. His warehouses could crumble. But when they hit too close to home like this one, he chuckled to himself. He had dismantled empires for less. ~~~ By the time he arrived, Luca was pacing outside a small, pastel-painted building that smelled of sugar and cinnamon. A sign read Heaven’s Delight Bakery. It was just the kind of place his Aurora would love. But he had no business there. He rubbed his nose again, his hand itching to remove his gun and really teach his underboss a lesson in sense. Luca looked like he was about to combust. “It’s the only open place on this street. The others are under police sweep. We can’t risk…” “Inside.” Enzo snapped, his patience at an end. Luca recognized the look immediately and gulped, before jumping into action. The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, an oddly innocent sound for men carrying death in their pockets. And then he saw her. A girl, no, a woman, stood behind the counter, blonde hair pulled up in a messy knot, flour dusting her cheek. Her apron was crooked, her blue eyes wide and uncertain as a dozen of Enzo’s men filed in behind Luca. Her figure was jogging a forgotten memory, and he narrowed his eyes. She immediately grabbed a tray and held it in front of her protectively, and the futile attempt at defense triggered a primal reaction in him that he had to fight to ignore. She was nervous. He could see the tremor in her hands as she pointed to tables. “You…um…can sit there. And there. Please don’t…don’t break anything.” Enzo said nothing as he took the corner seat. The place looked small around him, too delicate for the kind of darkness that followed him wherever he went. Its different pastel shades made him feel exposed, but he ignored it. Business first, he would deal with Luca and his poor choices later. Luca leaned close. “We can’t hold a meet-” “We can,” Enzo answered flatly. “Start.” ~~~ While Luca and the others launched into talk of bombed shipments, intercepted routes, and traitors possibly inside the circle, Enzo let his eyes drift back to the counter. The woman moved with quiet grace despite her trembling. Every motion: pouring water, arranging cups was deliberate, soft, almost dancer-like. His Aurora was a dancer, she favored ballet. He began to imagine if this woman did any form of dancing. She had the body for it; a willowy form, lithe limbs, and graceful steps. Her hair was covered completely with a floral scarf, he wondered what color they were: Black? Brown? Light brown? He caught her name as someone called out for her help. Heaven. Of course. When she approached their table, her breath came faster. He could see the pulse in her throat jumping as she leaned over to pour his coffee. Her scent hit him first, warm vanilla, faint jasmine. And beneath that, the sharp note of fear. Her hands shook slightly, yet not a drop spilled. Enzo inhaled without realizing it, eyes half-lidded. Something stirred inside him, unwelcome, confusing. She stepped away. He exhaled. The men kept talking. Luca was saying something about shipment routes, replacements, and how Moretti’s men had been seen near the docks. Enzo barely heard him. He glanced down at the steaming cup, at the delicate swirl of cream on top. He lifted it. Took a sip. Warmth spread through his chest. Then another sip. Then another. Someone stopped mid-sentence. Enzo looked up, brows narrowing. Every one of his men was staring at him like they’d seen a ghost. “What,” he said quietly. Luca swallowed. “You’re… eating.” He froze. He looked down. The half-eaten slice of pie on his plate glistened under the soft lights. The fork in his hand trembled slightly before he set it down. For the first time in ten years, he had eaten something. Voluntarily. He didn’t like what that meant. He never did anything without conscious thoughts. He was in control. Yet he could not stop eating. ~~~ When the meeting ended, Enzo rose first. His men followed. But before they could reach the door, a small figure darted in front of them. Heaven stood there, blocking the exit. “I uh…I run a business,” she stammered, voice shaking. “And if people keep eating and drinking like that without paying, I’ll be out of business in a week.” The room went silent. Enzo turned his head slowly toward her. Her chin was tilted up, but her lower lip trembled. Fear radiated from her, yet she stood her ground. He took one step forward. She flinched. The small sound she made; half gasp, half whimper, slid under his skin like heat. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t want to. Luca, wide-eyed, stepped in quickly. “Of course. Apologies.” He dug into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash, dropping it on the counter. “For the inconvenience.” Heaven’s eyes widened at the amount. “I…I this is too much. I” Enzo brushed past her, close enough for her scent to follow him out the door. He didn’t look back. But the image of her shaking hands and stubborn chin followed him all the way to his car. For the first time in a long time, Enzo Romano’s mind wasn’t on business. It was on a girl with flour on her cheek. With grace in her steps. And the coffee that hadn’t made him sick. Strange.