Novels by MARY JUDY

Léo quietly walked out of Elara’s room, gently closing the door behind him with a soft click.His every movement was measured and intentional, as though he recognized the importance of maintaining silence in that moment.He didn’t look back.Elara, on the other hand, couldn’t move.She sat against the door, shaking as she tried to calm her breathing. Marco's words kept repeating in her mind:“I own you. Bought and paid for. You don’t make plans, you don’t make choices, and you don’t leave.”His words felt heavy in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She had tried to endure it, but she couldn’t keep living this way.Her father had sold her to Marco, reducing her to a mere commodity.But she knew the brutal truth: she alone held the power to save herself. No one else would. She was a human being, for crying out loud!She deserved to make her own choices—to breathe without Marco's suffocating control.She would rather die than be his pawn.The thought hit her clearly and hard. It wasn’

Marco finally had his shipments back. Thanks to Rosina’s father, who accompanied Marco to the officials who could help release his goods, the deal went through.Despite his better judgment, Marco accepted their help. He understood, though, that favors like this came at a cost.Rosina would want something in return, and he knew she always got what she wanted.The thought of it left a sour feeling in his stomach as he entered the house.The silence inside felt heavy, almost suffocating.Tension clung to him, and even though the long night of negotiations had ended successfully, he didn’t feel relieved.There was no sense of victory.As he slowly climbed the stairs, his fingers traced the cool banister, each step quiet and careful.Years of living on the edge had taught him to always listen carefully—to be aware of what others wanted to hide.A distant clock ticked in the hallway, a constant reminder that time was slipping away from him.Then he heard Elara’s voice.It was soft and dista

Marco's POVI stood in my office, staring at the stacks of paperwork on my desk. My shipment still hadn’t arrived, and the customs officials were ignoring my demands. My patience was running thin.This wasn’t just about business anymore—it was an insult. And I didn’t take insults lightly.I turned from the window, my thoughts dark. There was always a solution. A simple one—violence. I could send my men, take my goods, and leave Ferraro with a reminder of why no one crossed me.It was not the most subtle of doing it, but it was effective. And it would settle things quickly.My thoughts were shattered by the click of heels echoing down the hall. The door swung open without a knock, and I didn't need to turn to know who it was. Rosina. Her dramatic entrance was unmistakable, and I only needed to brace myself for what was to come.She entered with her usual poise, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The smile that had been her mask for years. "Marco," she said smoothly, feigning co

Marco’s POVThe morning air was cold, but I barely felt it. The pounding in my skull was far worse. Whiskey clung to my tongue, leaving behind a bitter taste. I hated this feeling—hungover, sluggish, out of control.Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rolled my shoulders, working out the stiffness. Last night was a blur. I could barely remember making it upstairs, but Elara had filled in the blanks for me earlier."You were drunk, sir. I helped you up the stairs. Your door wouldn’t open, so I let you sleep in my room."That was all she said. And me? I hadn’t cared enough to question it.Because it didn’t matter.What mattered was my business.My shipment had been seized, and I was wasting time.I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and dialed Vittorio. It didn’t even ring twice before he picked it up."Capo," he greeted, his voice sharp and awake."Updates." I didn’t have the patience for small talk."We’ve been working on it. The officials who took the shipment are demanding a bigger

Elara sat up quickly in her bed, struggling to catch her breath with her heart racing uncontrollably. It was as though she had just woken up from a nightmare but this time, it was all too real.Her head moved with deliberate slowness as fear gripped her about what she might find. Marco was still there.His dark lashes brushed his cheekbones as he lay on her bed while his chest moved in deep rhythmic breaths. He appeared peaceful beyond belief as though the events of the previous night never happened. Her eyes fell upon the slender blanket resting on her legs and her stomach twisted with force. The deep bloodstains on the blanket seemed to stare back at her and her breath caught in her throat.It wasn't a dream, it's all real.Everything that happened last night—his lips, his touches, and his weight pressing her into the mattress—it all really happened.Her eyes clenched shut with intense force as she wished to awaken from the threatening nightmare. But upon opening her eyes she fo

Marco stared at her for what felt like an eternity. It was as if he were searching for a reason to stop—but he found none. Instead, he found more reasons to continue.The innocence in her eyes kept pushing him. He had to know if it was just in her gaze or if it was truly a part of her.Elara was breathtaking. Her curly black hair fell wildly down her back, damp from the shower. Her figure was perfect in its own way.She wasn’t overly curvy, but everything about her was just the right size—her breasts, her waist, her long legs.Her brown eyes, deep and filled with resistance, seemed to bore into his soul. He couldn’t stop; he would be crazy to stop.His grip on her remained firm, pinning her hands above her head. She was powerless in his hold, but that didn’t stop her from fighting. Her legs kicked against the ground.Yet her gaze remained fixed on him, watching him intently.She was trying to understand if he truly knew what he was doing, just like he had claimed.For a fleeting momen