“Please mister, buy this painting so we can buy bread,” three dirty triplets begged. The billionaire mafia boss stared at the canvas, his heart stopping. The woman painted on it was the wife he mourned for years. With shaking hands, he pulled out a black card and whispered, “Take me to her.”

her freezing hands like life preservers. For the first time since I took over the family syndicate, nobody in my immediate vicinity gave a damn about Dante Marino’s reputation. I was completely powerless.

Sofia, her jaw set like granite, outright refused to step away from the stretcher until a weary paramedic promised she could ride in the back. Lucia continue reading …