Novels by 𝓟𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂

I was out of my mind. Whoever this girl is? She isn’t me.The heat between us was palpable, our heavy breaths mingling as he gazed into my eyes. The feel of his hand was too incredible. I wanted to close my eyes, but they remained open staring into his cool grey depths swirling with dark desires. Then they moved to his muscles. I’d thought he was fit but never allowed my thoughts to wonder too far, his sculpted muscles taut and glistening with a light sheen of sweat. I bit my lower lip with the urge to lick him, clouding my mind.“Fuck me Mirabella, the way you seduce me with your looks.” He was panting, his voice a low growl that sent shivers rippling through me to my very fingertips. “How am I supposed to be gentle with you?” He asked more to himself, looking dazed.He teased my nipples so much that I was about to lose it, but then stopped to explore other places. It was a sweet kind of torture. His rough hands traced the curve of my jaw with his thumb, his touch tender in contrast t

They were a cool set of flawless grey. His eyes, they swirled and for a second I got lost searching them. They were enthralling, dark and penetrating. Wow! this man was stunning. Those jerks were going to wipe this from the face of the earth and deprive people from beholding his beauty. The thing with beautiful people is they were either taken or crazy and in rare cases both. Which one was he? "What are you thinking about?" He asked evading my question. "You are beautiful." That got a chuckle from him, the hard lines at the corner of his eyes easing and did I think this man was beautiful before? Now he looked like he couldn't be from this world, like we didn't breathe the same air. "That's a first for me." "What?" "Being called beautiful." That couldn't be, how do people be around this and not admit it. He was a hot blend of hard muscles with a defined figure strewn with scars from hard work which added to his character but his face told a different story. He l

Three days, eighteen hours and twelve minutes, sixteen seconds. I couldn’t manage to open my eyes or move my body even though my mind remained active, not shutting off for over a week since I was abducted on my first day in this cursed city. It was a matter of territory, with two strong power house mafia existing in Italy, all there was to do was dominate until the other caves. They had messed with my overseas business and I was forced to fly in personally and I landed in New York over a week ago. Buzzing city, bright, busy. Lo odio. I hate it. My first time away from Rome in years and I knew I didn’t like it. The air, weather, people, road, everything was different and I don’t do different. My car was hijacked and with a club to the back of my head I was rendered unconscious and that was less than an hour since I landed. An obvious trap I saw coming but couldn’t evade. I was out cold just to peel open my eyes to welcome two Italian shits with familiar tasteless tattoos of the

There is a man, unconscious in my bed. Whatever had possessed me earlier was long gone because now I could use the reasonable part of my brain and it was telling me that I brought some kind of criminal in.This was a bad idea, I have an early flight tomorrow or at least I had before I called and postponed it for another two days because well I couldn't exactly leave with this in my house. He looked dead but still took in air... barely. I felt responsible for him so just until he wakes and I'd be on my way.I should be done packing by now, my suitcase was already out but here I was trying to figure out where to even start with the pile of a man on my bed.His most severe wound had stopped gushing only after painting me in red which I spent three hours scrubbing away. My sheets met the same faith but now I was on cleaning duty, his bruises and cuts some red and others really dark purple.With all the first aid equipment and two bottles of alcohol, one for me. I was ready to demonstrate

Denial.Anger.Bargaining.Acceptance. I'd gone through these stages of depression and finally accepted how naive I was, thinking I could be loved by anyone truly. I kept living in my head and ignoring the signs. I should have seen it in the way he started using my first name to address me, and the way he acted so distant. No, it took me walking in on him with that secretary of his in our bed. Just thinking about it got me back to the anger stage but I can't, I should forget it all and move on. It doesn't matter that I invested five years into him, it doesn't matter that I'd spent most of those years planning out our wedding and it most certainly doesn't matter that I already bought a ring and was ready to propose. I should have kept the darn receipt. Taking in a deep breath and letting out a sigh. I was killing the vibe of the wedding with my presence. The bride and groom looked like a dream with bright smiles as they danced in each other's arms and I kept wishing again, why coul