Rosita’s POV The large bean bag that reeked of weed and shit was yanked from my head, and my wig fell off, my dirty hair falling down around my face. As I tried to stand, I realized I was bound to a wooden chair, my hands tied behind the back and my legs secured to the legs. A hand reached forward, gently brushing the strands from my face, and I lifted my gaze to meet Romano's gorgeous smile. "My angel, aren't you just happy to see me?" he murmured. He leaned in closer, studying my face. "Hmm, I didn't know you were such a hot commodity. Word is on the streets that the don of whores also sent his men after you. He's rarely interested in women, but he went to desperate measures, even infiltrating a courthouse, to capture you." Romano's fingers trailed down my cheek. "I wish I had found you first. I would have hidden your beautiful face from the world, because men out there are hungry wolves." "The only hungry wolf I see is you, asshole!" I snapped my teeth as he withdrew his
Deangelo’s POV The sound of gunshots echoed from inside the courthouse, people running out in fear. Their faces were soaked with sweat, the kind that reeked of fear. Gripping two loaded assault rifles, I stepped out of my car, my henchmen rushing out of the accompanying black jeeps that took over the front of the court with Silvia among them. She slammed my car door shut with a quick kick, flashing a glimpse of her blue lace panties beneath her extremely short leather skirt. I quickly averted my gaze, following her as we pushed past the terrified crowd toward the courthouse entrance. The loud wail of police sirens pierced the air, but I paid no attention to them. Looking into the main floor of the courthouse, I took in the sight before me—the bullet-riddled walls, dead bodies of security guards strewn across the floor, and the stubborn bang of gunfire. Pressing the communication chip in my ear, I demanded an update from Hugo. His ragged breathing popped through the line. "I...I
Author’s POV Stefano sat at the table, his untouched picanha steak growing cold as he stared miserably at the numerous empty and half-finished beer bottles. His mind was consumed by the loss of the important documents and cash he had been entrusted with—a million pesos' worth of bribe money from his client. But his thoughts were equally troubled by the mysterious pregnant woman he had tried to protect, only to be abducted alongside her. Though she was of no relation to him, there was something about her that stimulated a paternal instinct inside him, a reminder of his own beloved daughter. Stefano shook his head, reprimanding himself for seeing his daughter in every woman he encountered. He reached for the bottle in front of him, only to have his boss snatch it away. "That's enough alcohol for today," the older man scolded. "I invited you here for dinner, not to drink yourself to death. I know it hasn't been easy, but you need to think about your health. We still need you aliv
Author’s POV Rosita gripped the railing of the balcony, her knuckles turning white as she poured her heart into a familiar song—the one she would sing for her father and Dolores on their birthdays. Her angelic voice echoing off the walls of the mansion. Fat tears rolled like pearls down her pale cheeks as she longed for the comforts of her old life, before she had been swept up into this nightmare. As the last notes of the song faded from her lips, the insistent sound of knocking echoed from the door. Rosita knew it was Romano's henchman, who had been trying to coax her out for the better part of an hour. But she had no intention of submitting to their demands—marriage was the furthest thing from her mind. Romano's worried voice called out. "My angel, are you alright in there? Why aren't you opening the door?" The jingle of keys came before Romano's hurried footsteps, and Rosita tensed as he burst onto the balcony, seizing her hand and pulling her away from the railing. She cr
Author’s POV Dolores took a deep breath, standing outside the hotel room of the don that Vincenzo had assigned her to. The thought that he was going to fuck her to death made her knees tremble. Madam Dinero had told her before she left the brothel how strong and powerful the don was and how he brutally fucked whores, without caring about their own pleasures. The only thing she had to do was make the don happy, and she would be free; otherwise, she would end up dead, just like the other women. The sound of loud footsteps approaching sent arctic needles of fear down her spine. "Here, have some money. Madam Dinero sent me over to give it to you for transport fare if you make it out of here alive. You shouldn't try to contact anyone during this period, and whatever happens in this room stays inside this room." A strange woman remarked, pressing a few bills into her hand. "Just a little tip: the don doesn't talk too much; he is reserved and just likes to get straight to the act," s
Author’s POV Warning: This chapter contains dark content, which some readers may perceive as rape, as well as violent and dark behavior. If you are not comfortable with this type of content, you may skip this chapter. "Please, faster, harder, don't stop," Dolores begged, her nails digging into his shoulders, her core squeezing his cock, her pussy clenching around his cock. But to her greatest surprise, he pulled his cock out of her at the last minute and felt him leaving the bed. She turned around to look at him, and a cold shiver worked its way down her spine. His mask clattered to the floor, and she saw a completely different look on his face. His eyes were extremely red, like he had just turned into a beast. The beast they had told her about, but ones without claws. Before she could utter a word. He pulled out the top drawer, took out a whip, and started whipping her all over her body, and the worst thing was, it wasn't a normal whip; it was a fire whip, and it burned her ski
Rosita’s POV The word marriage had never been in my dictionary ever since I watched my parent's marriage fall apart. My father was a heavy drinker; he would drink and come home just to hit my mother. One day, my mother left home and never came back again; my father mended his ways, but it was too late, it cost him his marriage. And now, I was being forced into a marriage. I took a deep breath and sighed, unable to understand why a powerful don, who could have any woman in the world, wanted to get married to me. The slender fingers of a group of ladies, touching my body and adjusting the elegant wedding dress clinging to my skin, brought me back to reality. I was standing in the middle of a dressing room, surrounded by ladies, some of whom were doing my makeup and styling my hair. I had to be the most beautiful bride, I had to look good for the wedding. I was about to be married to a crime boss. The thought itself sent chills down my spine. I didn't know the man and was not i
Rosita’s POV I clutched the edges of the extravagant wedding dress, hot tears running down my face as I watched the news report. The headline resounded that Don Romano, the "Don of Weed," had been shot dead in a shootout at his mansion. The reporter described the messy scene, where seven other people had also lost their lives. Now there was a vacancy for the fourth most powerful don in the city, and the police were searching the location to find Romano's killer. I gulped, the tears beginning to come fast. I wanted to be rescued, but not at the cost of someone's life. The realization that a man had died right before my eyes made me sick to my stomach. I hated myself for being pleased that Deangelo had come to save me. Sobs tore from the depths of my soul as I stood in the middle of Deangelo's living room, expecting the arrival of the very man who had heartlessly taken a life. As if he could hear my thoughts, he strode in, his expression cold and indifferent, as if he hadn't jus
Author’s POV Stefano looked away, not wanting to be affected by her eyes. "You have no right, absolutely no right, to ask me about our daughter. I begged you not to leave me, not to leave her! She was so young and fragile. She desperately needed her mother. But what did you do?" he asked with a scoff. "You left and never looked back. And now, after all these years, when she no longer needs a mother in her life, you have the nerve, the audacity, to come here saying you want to see her? It's too late for you to act like a mother figure. I will never forgive you for what you—" She cut him off, moving closer to the bed, placing her hand on the edge, her voice loaded with emotion. "We both know I left because of you, Stefano. I couldn't stand you when you were drunk! We both know how much you abused me whenever you were drunk. Rosita might not have understood then, but she would now. I wanted to see her because I heard you didn't give her a good childhood, that you ruined her life, and
Author’s POV Stefano's eyes snapped open, his gaze fixed on the sterile white ceiling of the unfamiliar room. The periodic beeping of a machine nearby and the faint throbbing in his right arm, along with the sharp prick of a needle, told him he was in a hospital bed. He yanked the oxygen mask from his face and sat up, his head swimming. He looked around the empty room, a wave of nausea crashing through him. He reached for the IV tubes connected to his arm, yanking them out with a rush of anger. A sharp pain shot through his arm as the needle tore free, causing blood to well up. He ignored it, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand, but something strong pulled him back down. His stomach flipped as he slowly looked down, his heart beating rapidly. His eyes widened in shock as he realized that his legs and hands were chained to the bed. He was completely trapped; there was no escape. A choked scream escaped his lips, filled with frustration and rage. T
Deangelo’s POV Sweat coated my shirt to my back as I pounded hard on the door of the room where the hotel staff said the doctor was staying. The love of my life was dying, and I was losing it, slowly losing my fucking mind. The image of her writhing in pain before I left our room burned into my memory, disturbing me. The door finally swung open, revealing an older man in a bathrobe, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom. He said something in Italian, his voice spiked with irritation. "Do you speak English?" I questioned, my voice hoarse. He nodded. "Yes… I do a little. Who are you?" "It doesn't matter," I declared, trying to keep the worry from my voice. "You need to come with me, now. My girlfriend is dying, and she needs medical attention as soon as possible." A woman's voice called out from inside the room, "Honey, who is that?" The doctor glanced back into the room. "It's a patient," he replied. "There is an emergency. I will be back in a few minutes, I promise." "
Author’s POV The mafia don’s grey eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of his mother. His hips came to a stop as he pulled himself out of the woman, leaving her lying on her stomach, her ass raised, and her hole filled with his sperm. Ximena couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. There was cum spilling out of the woman's well-shaved pussy, a large pool of white fluid spreading across the carpet beneath her. Her son's huge cock was slick with it, coated in their combined juices. He stared at his mother, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "M-Mother," he stammered, his voice hoarse. Ximena shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She was still dazed by what she had just seen, her brain struggling to process the sight. Finally, she found her voice and blurted out, "Oh my goodness, son!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the room. "What the heck are you doing?! You should be welcoming our guests, not... not this!" "Ma!" he whined, looking anxiously
Author’s POV The moment her eyes met his set of golden ones, she gasped and stepped back. It was—it was Don Fernando. The balcony window was wide open, letting in a rush of cool air. "W-What are you doing here?" she inquired, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "How did you get into the mansion? Did you come to abduct me? To take revenge for what we did to you the other time?" He cut her off, his expression cold. "I didn't come to kidnap you. I have something more important to do." "More important than me?" She said, moving closer to him, running a finger down his chest in a desperate attempt to hide her fear. "You could… Kidnap me; take me anywhere you want. I wouldn't mind. I'm tired of this place, and I'm willing to take anything you throw at me. You can stab me, spank me, or try to strangle me to death, for all I care." He stared at her in disgust, grabbing her hand and pushing it away from his chest. "I liked you better when you were innocent and didn't want me. There
Author’s POV The bright morning sun streamed through the window, its strong golden rays touching Dolores’s face. The warmth felt good on her skin, a brief moment of comfort until a sharp, unbearable pain burned through her stomach. The memory of being held down on the bed, Madam Dinero’s henchmen standing over her as the needle sank into her arm, came back with disgusting clarity. The pain increased, and Dolores screamed, a deep, harsh sound that echoed through the walls. She fell off the bed, landing hard on her face. She cried as she tried to push herself up from the floor, but her limbs felt weak and unresponsive. The pain in her stomach was unbearable, a burning, twisting pain that robbed her of her strength. She clutched at her abdomen, crying out, "My baby!" Hot tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she remembered the deal she had made with Vincenzo. Now, there was no way out of this hell, no escape from this whorehouse. She felt a warm, sticky liquid trickling down
Deangelo’s POVSix Hours Earlier…The taxi's horn blasted, yanking me out of my worried thoughts. I turned towards the sound, spotting the driver leaning out the window, his face painted with frustration."Hey, uomo, are you going or not? It’s very late. I’m tired of waiting. You are wasting my time, I could have used it to pick up other customers!" He yelled in a violent stream of Italian, a language I couldn't understand, but his anger was obvious.I fished out my phone, fumbling with the screen. It was pathetic; I should have brought someone who spoke Italian. Miguel… God, I missed him. My heart clenched at the memory of his death. I opened the translator app, knowing I had to calm this guy before he drove off and left us stranded.Walking over to him, I held the phone up to his face as he spoke into it. The app let out a translation of his outburst. "If you don’t want to go, take your luggage out of my car, because it’s almost midnight and my working hours are almost up.""Take ou
Author's POV Dolores paced anxiously inside her room, a phone pressed to her right ear, nervously chewing on her fingernails. She was nervously waiting for Bruno to answer, desperate to talk to him. She still hadn't been able to recover from the shock of him getting married to another woman so soon. His phone rang for the hundredth time, unanswered. "Pick up the damn phone! Pick up! Pick up!" She muttered to herself, pleading with him to pick up, but he stubbornly refused to answer. Abruptly, a loud knock reverberated on the door. Dolores froze, ice trickling through her veins at the thought that she had been caught. She had stolen the sleeping Madam Dinero's phone to call Bruno, and it seemed the old witch was awake now. She ignored the knock, desperately redialing his number. The banging on the door increased. When the call failed to connect again, she fought the urge to toss the phone across the room. A voice came from behind the door, deep and familiar, a male voice. I
Author’s POV The moment Rosita pulled the cloth from the stranger's mouth and began struggling with the unique knots that tied her hands to the sink, the stranger gasped for breath and started speaking quickly in Italian. Rosita frowned, completely lost. She didn't understand a single word. "Um...I'm Spanish," Rosita said in English, hoping the woman understood. "I don't speak Italian, but I can speak a little bit of English and Japanese." The color left the woman's face; her small mouth formed an O of shock. "Oh," and switched to Spanish, a relieved expression crossed her. "Don't worry about it; I can also speak Spanish, my parents are mixed. I wanted to say, thank you for coming in, even though I couldn't tell you anything." "I'm glad I could help, even if I thought you were a friend who had suddenly gone missing," Rosita replied, finally managing to loosen the last knot. The stranger's hands were free. "Was...the friend you were looking for a woman with red hair and smo