Ruined Secrets: An Age Gap Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Perfectly Imperfect Book 4)

“Who is it?” Isabella mumbles sleepily.
“Salvatore Ajello,” I say and take the call. “Yes?”
“Mr. Rossi. We may have a problem.”
“Something regarding the last construction project?”
“No. This is a personal matter,” he says. “There’s something of yours here. Something that shouldn’t have been in my city, Mr. Rossi.”
Jesus fuck. If someone from our Family was crazy enough to enter the New York region without permission, he’s dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Who is it?” I ask.
There are a few moments of silence before he finally answers.
“Milene Scardoni.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” I whisper.
He bends his head until our noses are barely an inch apart. “About what?”
“About you being in love with me,” I choke out.
The corners of Luca’s lips curve up. “But you weren’t lying, Isabella.” His hand leaves my chin to travel down along my neck and chest, then around my waist to the small of my back. “You see, I was already crazy about you, way before the crash.”
My breath catches. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
“I’m so sorry for being a moron, Isa. For pushing you away, even after I fell in love with you”

“I hear you had an accident two months back,” Davide says. “I hope it wasn’t anything serious.”
“Not at all. A mild concussion. Some burns and scratches.”
“You were always thick-headed, Luca.” He smirks. “Remember that time when we stole your father’s car and headed to Luigi’s? When we crashed not even a mile after we left the grounds?”
Isabella’s hand squeezes mine under the table and I can feel her fingers are trembling. I recline in my chair and cock my head, regarding Davide, then turn my gaze to Lorenzo. He’s
looking at me with an evil glint in his eyes and a barely visible self-satisfied smile on his lips. Yes, it looks like I was right in my assumptions.
“You don’t remember?” Davide continues, but I keep watching Lorenzo, whose smile is getting wider by the second.

We are so fucked.
I keep my eyes glued to the table in front of me, trying to think of a way to get us out of this fuckup. Why doesn’t he just say he remembers and be done with it? I can then try changing the direction of the conversation afterward.
“I can’t say I remember that, Davide,” Luca says next to me, and my head snaps up.
Why did he confess that? I turn my gaze on Lorenzo and find him smiling. He doesn’t look surprised by Luca’s answer. In fact, he seems . . . excited. The realization sets in, and I squeeze Luca’s hand with all my might. How the fuck did Lorenzo find out about Luca’s memory loss?
“How can you not remember?” Davide presses.
“Because it never happened, Davide,” Luca says in a cold voice.
My body goes rigid. How would he know that? Did Damian tell him about that event?
“That’s the story Philip told us while we were playing cards at his place.” Luca continues. “It was the summer after freshman year, as I recall. Good old days.”
I feel this strange falling sensation, and I’m spiraling as panic settles inside me. Oh my God, he remembers.

People would be shocked if they were aware how many details of their lives were stored in Isabella’s pretty head.

It happens suddenly as I’m buttoning my shirt the morning of the banquet.

Tonight’s banquet is bound to be much more interesting than I imagined because, along with my life, I
also remember the face of the man who tried to kill me, and he’ll probably be here.
Yes, it will be a very exciting evening.

Six steps. The sound of high-pitched laughter reaches me from our right. My head snaps to the side, my eyes finding a blonde woman sitting at the table in the corner, laughing at something one of her friends said. Simona. I never would have thought that seeing Luca’s ex would make me so happy. I could kiss that bitch right now. Two steps. Lorenzo rises from his chair. It’s now or never.
I pull my hand out of Luca’s, turn toward him abruptly, and start yelling into his face. “How could you!”

She keeps amazing me every single day, this slip of a girl, who keeps playing this game, fooling the whole Family. She knew what was at stake from the beginning. I didn’t. It was only a few days ago that Damian explained it to me. If anyone finds out that Isabella has been covering for me, hiding
my condition, the Family will proclaim her a traitor—someone who’s been acting against the Family’s interests. A punishment for such an act is usually death.
If I’d known this sooner, I never would have allowed her to get tangled up in this shit. There’s no coming back now. I’m not afraid of dying. But if the truth does come out at some point, and if anyone even so much as thinks about hurting Isabella, they better come at us with all they have. Because I am going to annihilate any man who tries harming a hair on my wife’s head.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a man crossing the street. I’m not sure what possesses me to keep my gaze focused on him because there’s nothing that stands out. He appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties, has dark hair, and is wearing a black suit without a jacket. Tall. Athletic. Women would probably find him handsome, but then again, nothing overly special. The only out-of-the-ordinary thing about him is a black leather glove on his left hand. As he enters the coffee shop’s patio, heading in my direction, I notice that he has a slight limp in his gait. It’s very subtle, and I wouldn’t have spotted it if I wasn’t so focused on him. He approaches the table, takes the chair across from me, and sits down.
“Mr. Rossi.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m glad to be meeting you in person, at last.”
“Mr. Ajello, I presume?” I ask and look around the café trying to spot his security detail.
“I don’t use bodyguards, Mr. Rossi.” His lips curve upward, and there is something extremely disturbing in his smile.

‘There are ruthless people, and then there is Salvatore Ajello.’