Racing Away From Forever

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice.

But for me, he broke it.

The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back.

The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me.

The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound.

Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life.

After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back.

I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me.

Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters.

Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race.

One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken.

The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance.

I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car.

I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races.

He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble.

My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share.

His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

Bang! The starting gun fired.

Elio's modified Maserati shot off the line like an uncaged black beast. He barely slowed for the corners, its tires screaming against the pavement in a shrill cry that pierced the entire tunnel.

His driving was just as I remembered from when he'd pursued me: wild and commanding, every overtake a gamble with death itself.

On the final lap, the car nearly went airborne as it tore across the finish line in first place.

The underground racetrack erupted in a deafening roar of shouts and whistles.

Before the dust settled, Elio threw open the car door and strode toward the girl tied up at the finish line.

Watched by hundreds of mobsters, he stripped off his expensive, custom-tailored suit jacket. His silk shirt clung to his chest, outlining the lily tattoo meant for me. He then wrapped the