Luca stepped out of his jeep, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat as the chilly night air brushed against his skin. Without a second thought, he pushed open the bar's door and stepped inside.
For the past few days, he had indulged in nothing but leisure—long drives that stretched for hours, bicycle rides through empty streets, and runs while exploring the city around him.
Leaning against the counter, his gaze drifting across the dimly lit room. That was when he spotted Sylvia Mancini. He remembered that face well.
Luca's sharp eyes traced the way she tipped back yet another glass, the sixth by his count. Her cheeks were flushed, and her movements were sluggish, her fingers barely steady as she reached for more.
He had severed all ties with the Mancini family long ago. Sylvia, oblivious to who he was, had no idea of their connection. Yet, despite the distance he had kept, unsettled him. It was a brotherly concern he had toward her.
