AUCTIONED TO HER DAD’S MAFIA ENEMIES: A MAFIA AGE-GAP REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (AUCTIONED SERIES Book 4)

A MOTHER’S JUDGMENT

I’m nervous as we approach the Venturi estate. It looms ahead, an elegant testament to power and legacy, a place filled with happy, carefree childhood memories, now a place where I’ll have to prove myself. As the car pulls through the wrought-iron gates, memories crash over me like waves against a cliff: a child’s perspective, running through these gardens and halls with Rosita, our laughter echoing through the grand corridors and getting lost amongst the tall trees. It had been a lifetime ago before my world was turned upside down.

I glance at Antonio, who sits beside me, his large, warm hand resting possessively on my thigh. Across from us, Alexis hums along to the music playing softly through the car’s speakers, his usual carefree smirk in place. Luca, ever the composed leader, watches me carefully, his piercing blue eyes searching my face for any sign of discomfort.

Andre and Vito drive us, but this time, I’m not filled with terror, just trepidation.

“I haven’t been here in years,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.

“You’re home now,” Luca says simply, his hand reaching out to take mine.

Home.

The thought settles deep inside me, an ember of warmth in my chest. It’s strange to think that, after everything, I belong here. Not as an outsider, not as a pawn, but as a part of this family.

Or, at least, I will be if Signora Venturi approves.

When the car stops in the circular driveway, I take a steadying breath. The doors open, and I step out into the crisp evening air. Rosita and her husband, freshly returned from their honeymoon, are already waiting on the front steps. Her face breaks into a wide smile, and within seconds, she’s pulling me into an expensive-scented but real hug.

“I knew they would rescue you,” she whispers against my ear, and I can’t help but laugh softly, holding her tight. The years between us slip away until we’re just two little girls with foolish romantic dreams of a future as wispy as the fog at dawn.

“You remember that?”

“Of course. You could never choose which one of my brothers to make your knight in shining armor.”

I laugh softly, glancing over my shoulder at my three gorgeous, but frankly a little terrifying, men. “Choosing between them was never an option.”

She pulls back and winks. “This is Raphael Russo, my husband.” She holds out her hand for the handsome groom I remember from her wedding. They have similar features and suit each other so much. I laugh as we kiss each other on each cheek.

“Pleased to meet you, Aemelia,” he whispers, remaining close. “It’s good to have someone else take over the focus of the family. Less pressure.”

I chuckle as he releases me, and Luca quickly rests his hand on my spine to guide me inside.

Inside, the house is just as I remember—elegant, warm, alive with the quiet hum of tradition. The scent of simmering sauce wafts through the air, and my stomach twists with a familiar longing.

Signora Venturi stands in the center of the grand dining room, her back straight, her sharp blue eyes—Luca’s eyes—assessing me the moment I enter. She’s always been an imposing figure despite her short stature, but now, as I stand before her as the woman in her sons’ lives, the weight of her judgment feels heavier.

“Welcome back, Aemelia,” she says, her tone polite but cool.

I dip my head respectfully. “Thank you, Signora Venturi. It’s good to be here again.”noveldrama

Her gaze flicks to her sons, watching as Antonio helps me remove my coat, Alexis brushes a loose curl behind my ear, and Luca, her most guarded son, places a steadying hand on the small of my back. Something shifts in her expression, but she says nothing.

Dinner is a quiet affair at first. The table is long, grand, and filled with food that reminds me of my childhood. Antonio, as always, serves my plate before his own, making sure I have everything I need. When a glass of wine is slightly out of reach, Alexis leans over and hands it to me without a word. Luca keeps his hand around my shoulder, his thumb stroking absent patterns over the fabric of my dress.

Their mother watches it all, missing nothing. But it’s not until later, when I insist on helping clear the table, that something changes.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, watching as I gather plates.

“I want to,” I tell her honestly. “I know what it means to take care of a family.”

She studies me for a long moment, then nods, stepping aside to let me help. In the kitchen, as we work side by side, I finally find the courage to say what’s been sitting in my heart.

“I love them,” I confess, my voice quiet but firm. “I know this situation is… unconventional, but I don’t care. They’ve given me something I never thought I’d have. Safety. Love. A place to belong. And I will give them everything I am. Love. Affection. A family. A place to be happy.”

She says nothing, rinsing a dish before placing it on the drying rack.

“I know who they are,” I continue. “I’m young but not foolish. This life… I’ve seen the worst of it and come through. I will stand next to them when things get tough. I’ll do my best to guide and support them.”

She nods, continuing to scrub a particularly stubborn pan.

“With my mother and aunt back in Maryland and my brother in rehab, I need a family,” I continue, my chest tightening. “I want that family to be you. And Rosita. If you’ll have me.”

Signora Venturi finally turns to face me, and for the first time, her eyes soften. There’s still a weight to her gaze, an unspoken warning that she won’t tolerate any harm coming to her sons. But there’s something else, too.

Acceptance.

She reaches out, brushing a wet hand over my cheek. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for.”

I smile and blink back the sudden rush of emotion. “I had to be.”

“Us women, we have to be strong. In secret, without showing it, we bear the weight of our families, steer our men to make good decisions, and guide our children even when they seem to lose their way. It’s our burden but also our blessing.” She rubs her hands on her apron. “I’ve waited for a long time for my sons to find a woman worthy of their love. I’d given up hope for Luca and Antonio.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Anyone who spends too much time alone becomes hard to live with. Their hearts were cold, their minds rigid. I couldn’t imagine who would find a way to reach them. Alexis is younger, but he has too much restless energy and too much fire in his veins. I worried that no one would ever be able to pin him down.”

She cups my face in her work-roughened hands. “You must be very special to have planted love in such barren and unpredictable soil.”

I blush, feeling overwhelmed at her words, unused to being called special by anyone.

“Special,” I say. “But also lucky.”

Her eyes finally light with the genuine warmth I used to see when I was a child, and she’d pinch my cheeks and feed me extra sweets when my mama wasn’t looking.

“I love them,” I say. “For all the good and the bad, the difficult and the easy. I love them.”

She pats my shoulder and nods. “Me, too, Aemelia. Me, too.”

That night as we relax on the terrace beneath the stars, surrounded by family, I feel something settle inside me.

I’m home.

I’m loved.

And I’m exactly where I belong.