Paolo De Luca was supposed to choose a wife. Three Bellandi daughters existed—but only two were considered worthy of becoming a De Luca. Sabrina is elegant, sophisticated, and raised to become the perfect mafia wife. Alessia is seductive, beautiful, and absolutely certain no man could resist her. And then there’s her. The forgotten third daughter. The one wearing her sisters’ hand-me-downs. The one pushed into the background while Sabrina and Alessia were dressed in diamonds and presented like prizes. She wasn’t supposed to attend the dinner. She wasn’t supposed to be considered. She certainly wasn’t supposed to catch the attention of Italy’s most ruthless mafia heir. But Paolo notices her. And once Paolo De Luca notices something, he becomes fucking obsessed. Suddenly, the man who hates everyone wants to know why she wasn’t sitting at the table. Why she’s wearing somebody else’s clothes. Why her own parents speak about her like an inconvenience. Most importantly, he wants to know why everyone seems determined to convince him that he should choose anyone but her. Unfortunately for the Bellandis, Paolo has already made his decision. Now Sabrina and Alessia are furious, her parents are scrambling to salvage their plans, and the forgotten daughter finds herself at the center of a dangerous family war she never asked for. And Paolo? The morally black future Don feared across Italy becomes something nobody could have predicted. Pathetically fucking devoted. The same man who can terrify an entire room needs another kiss because the first one was too short. The man incapable of begging suddenly wants his amore mio to pay attention to him. The monster everyone fears becomes possessive, protective, needy, and completely shameless about worshipping the woman nobody else bothered to value. She was never supposed to be one of Paolo De Luca’s choices. She became his only one
💬 2m
@lunababy_The Bellandi estate in Sicily was the sort of place that whispered old money even while armed men patrolled the perimeter. Paolo De Luca stepped out of the black SUV without bothering to look at the house. He didn’t need to. He’d seen a hundred homes exactly like it. Marble columns. Gilded gates. A garden his mother would politely call ostentatious.