09/20/2026
The Mafia Boss Never Believed in Soulmates—Until a Curvy Woman Walked Into His Life Twice
Gabriel Moretti had met thousands of women in his lifetime. Beautiful women, dangerous women, women who knew exactly who he was and still wanted his attention. None of them had ever made him forget how to breathe until tonight.
He was halfway across the Grand Hotel Ballroom when he saw her, the woman in the burgundy dress. She stood beneath a crystal chandelier, completely unaware that the most feared mafia boss in the city had just stopped walking because of her. Gabriel stared, not because she was beautiful, although she was, not because every man in the room had noticed her, although they had.
He stared because he had seen her before. 3 years ago, one rainy evening, one unforgettable woman, one conversation that had lasted less than an hour, and then she had vanished.
Gabriel had spent 3 years convincing himself that he hadn't cared.
That was a lie. He had remembered her laugh, her eyes, the way she had stolen his dessert without asking, the way she had looked him straight in the face and called him arrogant. He had even remembered the ridiculous little silver pendant hanging around her neck.
He had never found her until now.
Gabriel's bodyguard noticed him staring.
Boss.
Gabriel didn't answer.
The woman turned. Their eyes met. She smiled politely.
And Gabriel felt something inside him shift.
She didn't recognize him.
or worse. She recognized him and was pretending not to. He walked toward her.
His two guards followed. The woman watched them approach and glanced around.
Then she looked directly at Gabriel.
"Are you lost?"
Gabriel stopped.
"No."
"Then why are you walking toward me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to arrest me."
One of the guards lowered his head, desperately, hiding a smile. Gabriel noticed.
The smile disappeared immediately. Gabriel looked back at the woman.
"Have we met?"
She studied him for a moment, then her lips curved.
"That depends."
"On what?
Whether you're asking because you remember me," she paused.
"Or because you're trying to figure out why I remember you."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
There it was. That voice, that confidence, that irritating little habit of making every answer sound like another question.
Three years disappeared in an instant. He remembered the restaurant, the rain hammering against the windows, the woman who had accidentally sat at his private table because she thought she was meeting someone else.
She had complained about his coffee, his restaurant, his music, his attitude.
Then she'd eaten his dessert.
And when Gabriel had asked why she thought she could behave that way with a stranger, she'd looked him directly in the eyes and said, "Because you're clearly not going to do anything about it."
He had never forgotten her. Gabriel looked at the woman standing in front of him now.
"It's you.
" Her eyebrows lifted.
That's usually how introductions work.
You were at Morettes. Her expression changed.
You remember? I never forgot.
For the first time, she looked genuinely surprised. Then she laughed softly.
Oh. She shook her head. The angry coffee man.
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
You called me arrogant. You were arrogant.
You stole my dessert.
You weren't eating it.
I was. You were staring at it. I was deciding whether to eat it.
That sounds like a personal problem. Gabriel stared at her.
She smiled and there it was. The same woman. The same impossible woman.
Only now she was standing in front of him looking even more beautiful than the memory he had carried for 3 years. What is your name?
He asked. She tilted her head.
You really don't remember.
I remember your face.
That isn't my name.
Then tell me, Camille. Gabriel went completely still.
Camille what? Carter. The name hit him like a bullet.
Carter.
Gabriel's eyes changed.
Camille noticed. What? Where are you from?
Here. No.
She frowned. What do you mean no? Where were you 15 years ago?
Her expression changed.
That's an oddly specific question.
Answer it. I lived in another city. Why?
Camille folded her arms.
You know, you're much more pleasant when you're asking about coffee.
Gabriel didn't smile.
He was thinking about a little girl.
A girl who had grown up beside his family's estate.
A girl who had beaten him at everything. A girl who had disappeared 15 years ago.
A girl named Camille. Number.
It couldn't be that Camille had been 11.
This woman was 31. But the eyes, the smile, that stubborn little tilt of her head.
And then Gabriel saw it. The silver pendant hanging against her burgundy dress. His heart stopped.
He knew that pendant. He had given it to her 15 years ago.
Before she disappeared, he reached toward it. Camille stepped back. Excuse me.
Gabriel lowered his hand. Where did you get that? She touched the pendant.
My grandmother. Your grandmother. She gave it to me before she died.
Gabriel stared at her. His grandmother had owned the other half of that pendant. He had spent years believing the matching piece was lost.
Camille noticed the change in his face. You know it.
Gabriel didn't answer.
Gabriel. His eyes snapped to hers, the way she said his name, softly, naturally, exactly the way she had said it when they were children.
Nobody had called him that in years. Everyone called him Mr.Moretti, boss, sir. But she had called him Gabriel.
And suddenly the impossible became obvious.
You're her.
Camille frowned.
I'm who?
