Novels by Ada writes

He grips my wrist tightly, pulling me to him. His eyes are wild and dangerous. The pain shots up my arm and I wince.“I've been so nice to you Adrianna.” He says, tightening his grip till the pain is almost mind-numbing. He lets me go and I crumble to my knees, cradling my wrist. He walks to me and I all but crawl away, watching the sick smile on his face. He's enjoying this. The wall behind me stops me from going further.He takes his wristwatch off and flings it to the side, then he takes his belt off. “I never wanted you to see this part of me.” He says it's my fault he's crazy.He wraps the leather strap of his belt around his knuckles and leaves the buckle dangling. Panic wells up in me. I grab at his legs, tears streaming down my face. I beg with everything in me, forgetting shame. I didn't infiltrate Lance’s syndicate to be killed like this.He seems a bit stunned at first and he lets the belt drop to the ground. He kneels in front of me and cradles my face in his palms. Years

Adrianna’s POV“Adrianna? Adrianna Houston?” I hear a voice say beside me.It belongs to a woman who looks to be in her early twenties. She has dark hair and a white mask with fiery patterns covering her face. I frown.“Can I speak to you?” she asks. There is a hint of desperation in her voice. “Who are you?” I ask.“Stella. Stella Giovanni.” She says. She darts a before look at Mario who is oblivious to what is going on. “Can we speak someplace private?”I stare at the pictures scattered on the coffee table of the penthouse suite, my mind blank. There are pictures of women with bruises on various parts of their bodies, some with open wounds and swellings. There is even one of a murder crime scene.“What's this?” I ask, even though I can understand what this is.These are my fiancé’s supposed victims. Women he has allegedly hurt and assaulted. Women Luca must have paid off or threatened into silence. I can’t imagine Mario doing that to a woman. Yes, I know he tends to get physical wit

Adrianna’s POV“And on to “Business Headlines”, Billionaire investor Lance Hamilton has been acquitted of the murder charges at the trial held on Monday...”I sit in the penthouse suite of Marina Hotel, owned by the Lombardi family—the family my fiancé belongs to. I am not surprised to hear that Lance was acquitted of the murder charges—he has some of the best lawyers. I haven't been able to feel much of anything since Howard’s death.I’m getting married next week. It’s a bit of a shotgun wedding. The Lombardis are sworn enemies of Lance’s. The feud had begun about ten years ago for reasons neither side was ready to talk about but there has been an unspoken truce for about a year and a half. I am planning my life on the line by betting that he won’t want to hurt me and risk inviting the Lombardi’s wrath.Getting revenge against someone who put him in jail isn't that important. I hope.“Adrianna!” I recognize Mario’s voice as he walks into the suite. He pulls me into his arms and I am

Adrianna’s POVPresent day“Orange suits you so well,” I say pleasantly. I am speaking into the receiver suspended from the opposite side of the glass that separates prisoner and visitor. Lance is on the other side. There is a bored look on his face. He isn't as angry as I expected. He looks almost disappointed. Almost like he expected more from me. Even in the uniform, he still looks dignified and lethal. He is one of those people who can rule over their surroundings simply by being there.This isn't what I want. I want him angry and seething like a caged tiger. I want to feel his anger. I want the satisfaction of riling him up and knowing he can't do anything. I want to see him suffer. I don't have the stomach to murder him myself, but I can destroy him from within before he is killed. I got Howard’s assurance that the Lance won't leave this prison alive.Because of that, I only got enough evidence to have him arrested for the murder of his uncle, Marco, the previous boss of the syn

Adrianna’s POV(Two years ago)I stare at the black card in my hand and tilt my head. It has only one thing inscribed on it, in gold letters.Il Santi.The Saint.My lips lift at the corner. I have done my homework on him—I know as much as the private investigators I hired could find, which isn’t much, but is better than what the average person knows about him. Lance is anything but a saint. I stuff the card in my purse and stare at the blinking numbers of the elevator leading to the rooftop suite of Regal, a club owned by a business group that was affiliated to Lance’s gang—a rather tame term for the organized crime ring he leads.I know I’m being stupid. Risking my life to pose as an attorney to get close to Il Santi isn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. I might get killed before meeting him. I’m not stupid enough to wear a wire. I am almost definitely going to be patted down tonight. He’s not going to give me any concrete information on the first meet, anyway.And information isn