It was a little past 9 PM when the mansion's heavy silence began to thicken with tension. Vincenzo De Luca, ruthless Mafia boss, lay shirtless on a dark leather bench, his chiseled frame illuminated by the soft amber glow from the chandelier above. His eyes were half-closed, body relaxed, as the subtle scent of cedarwood cologne filled the air.
Emma stood beside him, the massage oil ready in her hands, her fingers poised to touch him. But just as she was about to apply it to his back, he lifted a finger in the air …. A silent command. “Emma, go get Seraphina here” he said, his voice low but commanding.
Emma froze, blinking. “Now?”
“Did I sound unsure?” His sharp tone sliced through the air.
Grumbling quietly, Emma set the bottle down and stepped away. Seraphina was in the hallway when
