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Aurora's POV The sexy lingerie clung to my skin; the mirror reflected my exposed, almost bursting breasts. I shifted on the bed, adjusting the lingerie I'd spent three hours picking out at the boutique downtown. The saleswoman had called it "a wearable love potion" and "battle armor that keeps a man in bed." I'd laughed, swiping the black card without hesitation. Enzo and I just needed a spark to repair the distance that had crept between us these past few months. Enzo ran a powerful crime family and was so busy I almost never saw him. The last time I'd slept with him was three months ago. The candles flickered on the nightstand. I'd cooked his favorite meal — bistecca alla fiorentina, seared rare with rosemary, the way his mother used to make it in the old country before she passed. There was a bottle of Barolo from his family's private cellar breathing on the table, and tucked in the drawer beside me was a collection of toys I'd never had the courage to buy before. Over these five years, as his Donna, I had developed a keen intuition. A vague sense of unease filled my heart, but I still decided to trust him. He'll be home soon, I told myself. He promised. But eight o'clock came and went. Nine. Ten. I checked my phone again. No messages. No calls. Just the same message I'd sent hours ago, still showing as "read" with no reply. Happy anniversary, Enzo. I have a surprise for you. Come home early? The steak had gone cold. The candles had burned down to stubs. I was feeling extremely anxious inside. To relieve this negative mood, I decided to look for a distraction. I opened Instagram and typed his name into the search bar. His account was set to private. Enzo valued his image as Don of the Crimson family, and he controlled every aspect of his public presence the way he controlled his territory. But tonight, someone had tagged him in a post. @Sophielove: The most magical birthday! Thank you for making my son's dreams come true. My thumb hovered over the screen. Don't c
