Vincent’s eyebrow lifted.

My quiet compliance only seemed to stoke the malice in him.

He stepped toward me, staring down with ice-cold contempt.

“Every meal, every dress, every night under my roof was mine. You’ll pay it back. Or I’ll send you to the family’s detention facility.”

I saw it clearly: the rage of a man who’d lost the bet, desperately trying to take his frustration out on the easiest target he could find.

The game piece that hadn’t broken the way he’d expected.

I’d been stupid enough to think a poor Brooklyn immigrant’s daughter could win the hearts of New York’s most powerful Cosa Nostra dons.

Now I knew every soft word, every gentle touch, had been nothing but an act.

My throat tightened, but I held his gaze, my voice steady.

“Don Luciano. You once promised me anything I wanted, no matter what it was. Does that promise still stand?”

Six months earlier, rival hitmen had ambushed us at an Italian restaurant in Little Italy.

I’d thrown myself in front of him, taken a bullet that grazed my ribcage, which nearly killed me.

He’d sat by my hospital bed for three days straight, swearing before his entire family that I could have anything I wanted.

I’d had a foolish crush on him then.

But I’d learned a harsh truth: a don would never be faithful, and could never give me the one thing I’d craved more than anything.

At my words, Vincent’s jaw tightened, scorn filling his eyes.

“Nick doesn’t want you, and neither do I. Don’t think that old promise means you can cling to me. My only future partner is Seraphina Moretti. No one else is worthy.”

He was certain I’d beg to stay.

Instead, I bowed my head, my voice flat and calm.

“All I ask is to leave this building unharmed. No strings attached.”

I didn’t want anything from him, or from Nick.

I just wanted to walk out that door. That was all.

Vincent froze, staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

He’d expected me to throw a fit like I had in my past life.

He’d wanted an excuse to break me, to take out his bitter loss on me.

But he didn’t know I’d already lived this once.

I knew exactly what would happen if I fought back.

I’d ended up dead in a fleabag motel room, pumped full of heroin, written off by everyone as a strung-out junkie.

This time, I wasn’t fighting. I was walking away.

He stared, jaw tight with unspoken irritation, and spat through gritted teeth: “Get out.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I stepped out into the Manhattan snowstorm, Christmas had just passed, the city buried under a blizzard.

The cold bit through my thin dress, but I didn’t stop walking.

The hushed voices of huddled maids drifted over to me.

“Did you hear? Miss Moretti’s only been in New York from Chicago for two weeks, and the Valentino family’s already cleared out every jewelry store on Fifth Avenue for her. Talk about devotion.”

“Wait, weren’t both the dons fawning over that Rossi girl just last week?”

“We all knew that was just a game. She was a toy, a placeholder. Now that Seraphina’s back, they’ve had to end the bet one way or another.”

Everyone had known about the bet.

Everyone but me.

I kept walking, my boots crunching over the thick snow, all the way back to my family’s home in Brooklyn.

Just like I had in my past life, I’d come back to the house I’d grown up in.

I kept my head down, walked straight to the front door, and knocked.

I knocked for a long time. The door never opened.

From inside, I heard the housekeeper’s voice, small and nervous.

“Miss, please go. Mr. Rossi said you’re not welcome here anymore. You’re not allowed in this house.”

My hand froze mid-knock.

It felt like a thousand tiny needles had pierced my chest, the pain spreading all the way to my fingertips.

I slowly lowered my hand, and for the first time since I’d woken up reborn, tears spilled down my cheeks.

In my past life, the second my family found out I’d been cast aside by New York’s two most powerful Cosa Nostra dons, Vincent and Nick, they locked me out.

Terrified of ruining their cushy life by crossing the two men, they shoved me on a Greyhound bound for a dead-end upstate town, left me there to die, and turned a blind eye when the hitmen came for me.

I still remembered my father and grandmother clasping my hands before I’d left for Vincent’s penthouse, promising, “Leah, if they ever hurt you, come home.”

Now I was home, and they wouldn’t even open the door.

I stayed there to sear this betrayal into my soul, and swear to never trust anyone again.

Maybe they heard me crying in the snow.

The door finally swung open.

My father stood there, face cold with rage. “Do you know what trouble you’ve brought us? The dons have turned on us because of you! Why can’t you just die, instead of ruining your siblings?” His words were a knife to the chest.

Behind him, my younger sister stared at me, her eyes bright with malicious glee.

My grandmother took my hand, voice sweet but eyes cold.

“Leah, we’ll send you upstate, tell everyone you ran away. This will all be over.”

My chest went ice cold.

It wasn’t just the dons who wanted me dead.

It was the family I’d spent my life protecting.

In the end, I boarded that Greyhound, my only possession a small silver dagger my mother had left me, my only protection.

Just like last time, I was dropped at an isolated motel, where the owner, paid off by my father, locked me in a back room.

“You really thought you’d get out of this alive? Cross the Luciano and Valentino families, and you’re a dead girl walking. Your family never intended for you to leave this room breathing.”

The exact same words I’d heard a lifetime ago.

I stared at the floor, my fingers curled tight around the dagger hidden in my sleeve.

He stepped toward me, a syringe full of heroin in his hand, reaching for my arm.

I curled my fingers around the dagger, ready to strike, when the door was kicked off its hinges.

But before the blade could connect, a gunshot rang out.

The bullet struck the wall beside us, startling both the motel keeper and me.

A woman stood in the doorway, a gun still raised in her hand.

Then she pointed the gun straight at the motel owner and said.

"Fuck off."

The motel owner recognized her face instantly, and went scrambling to flee in a blind panic.

“I’ve heard your tiramisu is the best in all of New York. Would you be interested in coming to my estate in Chicago, to be my personal pastry chef?”

It was only when I finally made out her face clearly.

Seraphina Moretti.

It was a face burned into my memory from my past life.

I stood there frozen, thrown completely off-kilter by this abrupt turn of events.

She saw me staring, and a flicker of pity crossed her face.

She tugged off her coat and draped it over my shoulders, its warmth wrapping around me and chasing away the bone-deep cold that had settled in my limbs.

Just then, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway outside.

Nick burst through the door, his eyes wide with worry when he saw Seraphina, his voice sharp with scolding.

“You shouldn’t be here, not in a place like this. Your health is too fragile. You could have just called me.”

Everyone said Nick Valentino was cold, unfeeling, a man who never let anyone get close.

Last lifetime, I’d thought the softness he’d shown me was special, that it was only for me.

But now I saw it clearly: the warmth in his eyes when he looked at Seraphina was real, nothing like the feigned tenderness he’d shown me.

He noticed me staring, and turned.

The warmth vanished when he looked at me, voice cold with warning.

“You’ll come to Chicago with us. You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t reach for what isn’t yours.”

Another sharp twinge hit my chest.

So my love, my loyalty, my life, had been nothing but a crime to him.

I bowed my head, voice flat and calm.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss Moretti. I’ll serve you faithfully, and never reach for anything that isn’t mine.”

I followed Seraphina out to the black Rolls-Royce idling outside.

But before I could climb in, a hand shot out, and wrapped tight around my wrist.

It was Nick.

I twisted around, meeting Nick’s warning glare, and calmly pulled my wrist free.

My voice was flat.

“Relax, Don. I won’t breathe a word of anything I shouldn’t. Everything that happened before? It dies with me. We’ll act like we never met.”

Then he snarled out a warning before climbing into the Rolls-Royce ahead of me and settling in the seat beside Seraphina.

“Behave yourself. We have your family in our hands. If Seraphina so much as gets a scratch, you and your entire family die.”

The ice in his gaze sent a chill straight through my bones.

The ride to the Moretti’s estate in Chicago passed in silence.

I followed them up the tree-lined drive.

After I walked Seraphina to her suite, Nick turned to leave, pausing only to glance back at me with an unreadable, conflicted look before he vanished down the hall.

I bowed my head, turning toward the kitchen, when a pair of arms wrapped gently around my waist from behind.

Seraphina was taller even than me, her chest warm against my back, a soft fragrance wrapping around me.

“Thank God you’re alright.”

I went rigid with shock, shoving her back by instinct, a faint, unbidden panic creeping into my voice.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss. Moretti.”

She looked at me, amber eyes soft with apology.

“I’m so sorry. You were toyed with, hurt, all because of me. It was never your fight.”

I braced myself for a warning to stay away from Nick and Vincent, but her next words stopped me cold.

“I’m never going to marry them. I never wanted this partnership. It was always their delusion, not mine.”

My mind went completely blank.

What had she just said?

I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

But she led me to my room, and settled me into a guest suite in the estate.

Every day, I made her a fresh tiramisu.

Seraphina was unfailingly kind, never demanding, never cruel.

I didn’t know if this was all part of some game she was playing with Vincent and Nick, so I had to be on my guard at all times.

Every time Vincent and Nick sent truckloads of priceless jewels, luxury cars, and vineyard deeds, she turned them away without a second thought.

Afterward, she’d glance over at me, nervous and soft, and murmur, “I’d never take any of it. Don’t worry.”

I didn’t understand what any of it meant, and I could only wait and watch how things unfolded.

Days later, Vincent and Nick stormed into the estate together.

I was in the kitchen, measuring tiramisu ingredients, when Nick burst through the door.

He grabbed me by the throat, slammed me hard against the cold tile wall, his eyes black with unbridled rage.

“What the fuck did you say to Seraphina!? She’s willing to burn the Moretti family’s congressional dirt, throw away everything, rather than marry either of us!”

Vincent stood in the doorway, watching me with a cold, vicious smirk.

“We were too soft on you, Leah. Should’ve let you freeze to death on New York’s streets when we had the chance.”

I’d done nothing. The pressure on my throat stole my breath, black spots dancing in my vision. I fought against his grip, gasping out.

“It… wasn’t me…”

Something in my sharp, unbroken gaze made Nick loosen his hold for a split second.

In that instant, I summoned every ounce of my strength and slapped him hard across the face.

The crack of the blow echoed through the kitchen.

Nick’s head snapped to the side, stunned, before his eyes turned murderous.

“Leah Rossi!”

I clutched my throat, gasping for air, and ignored his roar entirely.

He lunged for me again, disgust twisting his features.

“I swear to God I’ll wipe you and your entire bloodline off the face of the earth.”

Vincent said nothing, but his hand dropped to the pistol at his waist, raw, unbridled bloodlust in his eyes.

Staring at the two men who’d gambled with my heart, who’d ground my dignity into the dirt, I let out a bitter laugh.

“Two spineless cowards who treat people’s feelings like a game? You dare call me manipulative?”

I grabbed a paring knife off the counter and drove it straight into Nick’s wrist.

He howled in pain, yanking his hand back, while Vincent ripped his pistol up, aiming it dead at my chest.

In that split second, a figure burst through the door, stepping directly in front of me to shield my body.

It was Seraphina.

Vincent immediately lowered the gun, his snarl melting into desperate softness.

“Sera, don’t listen to her lies. We’ll give you every resource on the continent, keep you and your family safe forever.”

Nick clutched his bleeding wrist, his voice softening into sickly sweet concern.

“Sera, she’s manipulating you. She just wants to drive a wedge between us.”

Seraphina looked at them both and sighed softly.

“Vincent. Nick. I can’t partner with either of you. And I’m never going to marry you.”

With that, she stripped away the last of her feminine facade.

The illusion of the graceful, fragile heiress vanished entirely, replaced by the broad, unapologetically masculine frame of a man.

I froze, rooted to the spot.

Seraphina’s voice shifted, warm and clear, a man’s low laugh lilting through the words.

“Sorry I scared you.”

My brain went blank.

The gentle, graceful air of the woman who’d saved me was gone.

Her features, once breathtakingly soft and beautiful, sharpened into strikingly handsome, distinctly masculine lines.

He was a man...