Captured And Claimed By The Mafia Don

Kimberley POV:I opened my eyes to find myself in a strange room. Dark but surprisingly well ventilated. It took me time to adjust to the new environment, I finally did but,..Where am I? My pulse quickened. Suddenly, Memories of yesterday rushed in like a flood. “My father!” I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. Then, I heard it—a deep, commanding voice cutting through the stillness. “Never! Never do more than I send you!”“Who is that?” I held my breath, straining to listen.“He was proving stubborn... getting in my way.” Another voice, shaky yet defiant, wavered as if someone were being choked.Their conversation was muffled, words bouncing around like distorted whispers. Something about “D'Bon”... and “go ahead.” But I couldn’t fathom it. “I never asked you to kill him!” The first voice rumbled with anger. Silence followed, thick and unbearable.A sickening thud echoed, followed by a sharp hiss that made my neck prickle. “Bury him,” the voice commanded coldly.

Kimberley POV: I woke to sharp sunlight streaming through the window, forcing my eyes open. Disoriented, I blinked against the brightness. How had I fallen asleep so deeply? I scolded myself—this is unlike me.A knock came at the door, and before I could respond, it opened. I tensed, bracing myself for the "Don"—the one whose name I didn’t yet know. But the voice that greeted me was female.“Good morning, ma’am,” she said curtly. “I’m Helen. I’ve been assigned as your personal maid.”I looked up, my relief barely contained. At least she was younger, with a face that seemed capable of a smile, unlike the stern, older woman who had attended to me yesterday.“Mr. Fiore requests you come downstairs. He’s expecting you,” she continued. “I’m here to get you ready.”"Mr. Fore?" I muttered, almost too loudly. "What sort of name is that?"She stiffened slightly. "Fiore, ma’am," she corrected quickly, then added, “Please, let me help you prepare.”She looked chatty, eager even, but I swallowed

Kimberly POV:The dresses arrived, and I had to go downstairs to check them. Leonardo was already there, seated, phone pressed to his ear. The sight of him made my stomach churn, so I turned my face, pretending I hadn’t seen him. He ended his call and leaned back, gesturing toward the pile of white dresses. “Try them on.”I hesitated, the thought of changing in front of him twisting my insides. But before I could object, Helen stepped in, reading my discomfort. “This way,” she said gently, guiding me toward a small dressing room off to the side. Inside, I stared at the mountain of fabric. Trying on wedding dresses—dresses I didn’t want—felt like surrender. But what choice did I have? At least Leonardo hadn’t killed me yesterday. I could call that a win... for now. I pulled on the first dress—a sleeveless gown with a furry jacket that felt more suited for a high-society brunch than a wedding. I stepped out, awkwardly crossing my arms, standing in front of Leonardo in the most un

Kimberly POV I woke up to a headache that felt like someone had thrown a party in my brain and left without cleaning up. At first, it was just an annoying throb, but as soon as I tried to move, the pain only intensified.My eyes wobbled in their sockets like they hadn’t quite figured out how to work together. Everything was blurry for a moment, but then memories started to surface—bits and pieces of last night: tired, me hitting my head, the fever... Wait. Who had taken care of me? Leo? Leonardo...?I reached out to the side of the bed, expecting—what exactly? Warmth? A presence? But my hand met only cold sheets. Oh. This was a different room. For a second, that realisation hit me like a wave. Had I started thinking of the “other” room as mine? No. Definitely not. That was just... temporary. Right? And then, like a slap from a nosy memory, I recalled Leonardo touching my breast. I bolted upright, instantly regretting it. "Nope, nope, not thinking about that!" I mutt

Leonardo POV I couldn’t stop thinking about how her lips felt against mine—soft, warm, perfect. The way she looked at me afterward, her eyes wide with surprise, haunted me. And now I was furious. Furious with her. Furious with myself. “Control, Leonardo. Get a grip.” I slammed my fists into the punching bag, harder with every swing. Each hit sent sharp jolts through my knuckles, but the pain wasn’t enough to drown out the memory of Kimberly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Every time I breathed, I remembered the scent of her perfume—light and citrusy, like trouble waiting to happen. I hit the bag again. And again. But the frustration refused to go away. It simmered just under my skin, bubbling hotter the longer I stayed away from her. Avoiding her wasn’t working. I thought distance would calm me, but even here in Italy, the space between us only made things worse. I wiped the sweat from my brow, gritting my teeth. The memory of our kiss wasn’t going anywhere. And wors