Novels by victoriandukwe0

You know, I always thought I would end up in a billionaire's mansion someday… But I envisioned champagne toasts, lavish parties, and maybe even a romantic tryst with a handsome billionaire – not chloroform-induced naps, secret dungeons, and a side of attempted murder. For a kid, I had a wild delusions really, hoping that someday I'd be sipping Dom Pérignon with a charming CEO on his private jet, laughing with a with entrepreneur on his luxury yacht in the Caribbean, or exchanging sweet nothings with a romantic philanthropist who'd sweep me off my feet, adorn me with roses and whisper that I'm the most beautiful woman in the world – I just never imagined that my Prince Charming would be cold-blooded killer with a penchant for designer decor. I wake up the next morning, feeling like I've been put through a spin cycle. My head throbs and my mouth feels dry. When I move, I feel pain shoot through my bones and moan with the ache. My memories of the previous night are fuzzy. All I know

Did I mention before that there are other ways I could have opted to die? I probably did, but maybe I wasn't properly understood the first time. Now, look, lemme make this straight for anyone who could get the wrong idea. When I say I rather have them stick needles in my vagina, throw me into a sea of boiling oil, drag me behind a herd of stampeding elephants or even feed me to a school of ravenous sharks, and I'd rather ensure any of that than being caught as a breathing, walking intruder in the mansion of Alessandro Ferrara. Now, don't get me wrong; it's not that I'm that I'm that eager to live. I actually want to die. Just that if I had options, this would most definitely not be in my top ten picks. As I lay there, hidden beneath the musty body bag, I think about what my life could have been. I could have been anything, a doctor, a cat lady with a million furry overloads, or even Beyonce. I feel the truck's engine sputter and die and my life flashes before my eyes for a minut

I look up, expecting to see Alessandro Ferrara's chiseled face glaring at me, but in that moment, what I see instead is my whole life flashing before my eyes. This is NOT my handsome devil. What stares down at me is a menacing gaze from a thick-bearded Brock Lesnar look-alike wrapped in a thick tuxedo and a hard scowl that could curdle milk. I step back, mortified. “You're not as subtle as you think you are, miss,” he speaks gruffly, “You either take it to the pole or pick up the crumbs left of your morals and exit!”I frown, taken aback. “Excuse me?” “I know what you're doing, and you're not the first woman to try,” the man says seriously, “Stay away from Mr Ferrara or you could get yourself into a lot of trouble, kiddo.”With that, he disappears into the group behind me. Only then do I realize he is one of Alessandro's guards. In the same group, I watch as Alessandro walks away with his wife and entourage, completely oblivious to the encounter with me and his guard . My heart d

Number 1: Kidnap the Mafia's Wife. Number 2: Great, the bitch is gone. Stage an accidentally-on-purpose meet up to get his attention. Number 3: Have his eyes on me the whole night. Number 4: Let him take me home. Number 5: Experiment: take one; put a gun to the bastard's head. If someone would tell me that one day, I would be the key instrument on a risky plan to go after the wife of the most dangerous man in the continent, I'd have punched them in the throat for blasphemy. There are many other ways I could have chosen to die. A wide variety. And yet, I choose this means. Crawling down a dirty vent just to sneak into an exclusive underground party involving the most affluent figures in the country, pretending to be one of the strippers, and find my way into a mafia's heart through seduction — while my sister beat the shit out of his wife and stuffed her down a soakaway hole. Lord, the things I'd do to become rich. “Indigo, I hear something!” Sarissa says as she halts and

My entire body goes into a shock and I jump from the door, shaking, seizing and screaming for help. That thing that claims to be Sarissa has the chance to dive into my apartment and slam the door behind her. She grabs me and slams me on the ground. I try to crawl away, petrified, but I feel her strong grip on my hair as she forces me to rise and meet her cold, dead eyes. I try to fight back, but before I could get my stance down, she counters. I try to charge again, but she aims for my legs and I lose my balance and hit the ground. When I dash up to my feet a third time and come at her with clawed hands, she grabs my wrists, slams me against the wall and pins me into it. I wince as I feel her twisting my wrists from behind, crying as my face smudges against the wall, dust and broken dry paint entering my mouth as I try to scream. Fighting her is no use. She was predicting my every move. “Stay still, Indigo. I am not here to hurt you.” Her voice is too calm, contrasting the agg

Coming home every night after my day's hustle isn't always this dramatic. My life is mediocre, at its best. No drama. No intrigue. Nothing. Just me, barely surviving another mediocre day with yet another mediocre problem that was out for my mediocre life and not-mediocre-but-problematic sanity.Today, it could be my landlord demanding double the rent that I was owing for the last seven months. Tomorrow, it could be the creaking of mice, cockroaches and other unforeseen creatures that made it a mission to make my life a living hell in this godforsaken decrepit apartment. And if I were lucky to have some damn sleep by next tomorrow, maybe a wild storm from nowhere would hit California and find its way straight to my already broken down house to rip off the roof for me. All the rain, lightning and thunder would find their safe space, their refuge, on top of me. Descending on me and my bed. Yeah, my luck is pitiful. And granted, I would do anything to change it. But, at this point, wha