Chapter Two: Nolie Hartley

Zorak Padrelli’s POV At Padrelli Estate

My knuckles were still red.

The skin split. Raw. A smear of blood crusted between the ridges of the bone.

I didn’t even remember hitting him.

I just remembered her face.

Nolie.

The way her body flinched when that creep—Reggio fucking Averso—tried to touch her again, right there in that goddamn wake room, like she hadn’t just buried his brother.. Like she wasn’t still shaking from me. The way her lips parted when she saw me.

That’s what snapped the leash.

Slipped out behind him when the lights flickered, caught him in the hallway on the way to the private wing.

One punch.

That’s all it took.

But I didn’t stop at one.

I blacked out somewhere between the second and fifth hit. Came back to consciousness with Reggio’s teeth bloody and his face twitching on the floor like a dying insect.

I left him there.

Let him bleed.

He’d live.

Unfortunately.

Now I stood at the graveyard behind the Padrelli estate. Wind ripping through my coat. Rain starting to spit from a bruised sky.

I lit a cigarette and stood in front of the marble slab like it could talk back.

“Missed you today, Cristain.”

I blew smoke into the air, watching it vanish like the words I used to choke on.

Cristian Padrelli.

Beloved son. Firstborn. Heir.

The stone was cleaner than the others. Fresh flowers, even. Probably Mama.

I crouched.

“Guess who I saw today, Cris,” I muttered, staring at the carved name. “Nolie Hartley.”

My lips curled around the words like smoke.

“She’s just as sharp as I remembered. The wind picked up. Chilled the back of my neck.

“She slapped Reggio’s hand off at the coffin,” I chuckled. “He tried to grope her. Sick bastard. I punched him. Hard.”

I dragged in smoke. Let it fill my lungs. Let it burn.

I laughed under my breath.

“She’s not really a girl anymore. She’s a widow. Wore her grief like a dress.”

I dragged the smoke in deep.

“You would’ve liked her,” I muttered. “No. Scratch that. You would’ve teased the hell out of me for the way I looked at her.”

The grave didn’t move. Of course it didn’t. He was gone. And I was still here. Still breathing in the life he should’ve had.

Cristain should’ve been the heir. He was the one everyone loved. Smart. Strong. Diplomatic. Mafia royalty with a golden fucking heart.

And me?

The mistake.

The storm that day should’ve killed me. I was the one that took the boat. I was the one who got cocky with the engine.

But it was Cristain who dove in after me when I crashed. And it was Cristain who never came up.

So now our father barely looked at me.

Our mother hadn’t said my name in years.

They called me Padrelli by blood, but not by legacy.

But that was going to change.

“I’m bringing it all home, fratello.”

My hand curled into a fist again.

“The Veltrano syndicate. The blackmail files. The last piece of the puzzle.“I’ll bury the Veltrano name in the same grave they dug for my brother. And I’ll use their widow to do it.”

I leaned down, whispered at the headstone like it had a heartbeat.

“I know I’m not you, Cris. I never was. You were the good son.

“Dad will  be proud of me when I’m done. You’ll see.”

And her.

Nolie doesn’t know it yet... but she’s already mine

“I’m gonna take her,” I said softly. “And not just her. The whole fucking empire.”

Her name was already burned into my throat.

She had no idea that the moment I saw her on that stage with blood on her cello string, she etched herself into my memory.

And now?

She was the key.

The widow of Sylvesso Averso,  Heir of the  Veltrano syndicate

She had no idea what she held. What her dead husband buried.

I was going to get it.

Even if it meant seducing her. Destroying her. Using every moan and whimper and wet little gasp she gave me to crawl deeper into her world.

And the best part?

I wanted her anyway.

So why not enjoy it? “And when I bring it home—when I hand Father the last piece of power every mafia family wants—maybe then he’ll look at me as his son”

Maybe Mama would say my name again.

The image of Nolie’s mouth parted in shock, her back arched against his palm, the heat between her thighs just under his knuckles—it flickered behind his eyes.

“She’s a means to an end,” I muttered. But even as the words left my mouth, I tasted the lie. She wasn’t a fucking tool. She was the flame I couldn’t stop circling.

The way her thighs trembled… Christ. I could still taste her heat on my fingertips. I wanted to ruin her mouth next.

I closed my eyes for half a second and let the memory settle in my gut. I'd enjoy every second of breaking her open while breaking the Veltrano family to pieces.

But just as I was about to turn from the grave and head back toward the main estate

“Boss!”

Damo’s voice cracked through the still air.I looked over my shoulder.

Damo was sprinting across the field, his boots trampling over the wild red poppies that dotted the land. Sweat beaded his brow, his chest heaving,.

I straightened. “Talk.”

Damo didn’t waste breath.

“That widow—Nolie—the one you asked about? I got word.”

My jaw flexed. “From who?”

“A maid inside the Veltrano estate. Her cousin works in their kitchens. She heard it from the old crone herself—Arjona.”

I turned fully. My stare burned.

“They’re rushing her into a secret marriage. Few days from now. Some ceremony. Small. Fast. Reggio’s trying to lock her down before anything stops it.”

For a full second, I  didn’t move. The wind rattled the olive trees.

“Reggio’s trying to marry her already?”

The words tasted like acid. My jaw locked. My hands curled into fists again.

“Let them plan a wedding. I’ll turn it into a fucking heist

Then I ran a hand through my hair, ruffled it back, and exhaled slowly.

“Good boy,” he muttered to Damo,  “You’ll feast tonight.”

Damo grinned. But it vanished when my eyes darkened.

I flicked the butt of my cigarette to the grass.

And then, calm. Quiet.

“They can try.”

I stepped past Damo like a slow-moving blade.

“But I swear on my brother’s grave…”

I  paused.

Tilted my head.

“I’ll burn that fucking wedding down before they ever touch her again.”

“She’s not walking down any aisle unless I’m the one waiting at the end of it  and her name on my fucking lips.”