Vincenzo’s POVI rushed down the stairs, my boots thudding heavily against the cold marble as each step seemed to echo in the vast, empty hall. My breath came in ragged bursts, thick with anger, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of dread. Every inch of me burned, the tension boiling down my spine like fire. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.How could Marcello have my mate? How could he? The idea of it sent a rush of heat to my chest, a searing, unbearable sensation. My heart pounded, the pulse quickening with each passing second, almost as if it were trying to escape my body. And what made it worse was the fact that he wouldn’t even let me near her. He had blocked me at every turn, and the only thing I could do now was to confront him, face to face. But how? How did I even begin to fight for her when everything about this felt like it was falling apart?I threw the door to the courtyard open, the cool evening air slapping my face. The sky was darkening, a deep v
Author’s POVMarcello’s eyes were like ice as they locked onto Vincenzo. The air between them was thick with tension, each second stretching longer than the last. Vincenzo, still reclining in the luxurious leather chair, looked far too comfortable for someone who had just crossed a dangerous line. He was calm, cool, collected—everything Marcello wasn’t. Marcello’s pulse was quickening, his control slipping just slightly, but he held it together as he took another step forward.“Vincenzo,” Marcello’s voice was low, a knife buried deep in his words. “You’re just a client. A client. Don’t you dare stand here and act like you’ve earned some claim over her. You’ve had her for one night. One night.” His eyes burned as he stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You think that means something?”Vincenzo's lips curled into a slow, mocking smile. He leaned back further into the chair, his eyes flashing amusement. He didn’t seem intimidated, not in the slightest. That irked Marcello even more
Meera’s POVThe incessant ringing of my phone was starting to get on my nerves. Gabriel. Again. His name flashing on my screen like it was some sort of emergency, when I knew it wasn’t. He’d been blowing up my phone all day. I couldn’t even count the number of times he’d called. And if that wasn’t enough, my father’s calls kept interrupting, his number constantly popping up after each one of Gabriel’s.What do they want? I wasn’t in the mood to answer anyone today.I tossed my phone to the side and turned up the music in my car, hoping the loud beats would drown out the buzzing. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of them, not now. Not after everything that had happened earlier in the day.But just as I was about to pull into my driveway, the phone rang again. My father’s name lit up the screen. I cursed under my breath. I didn’t have a choice. I had to pick up. The last time I didn’t, he had made my life a living hell for the next week.I reluctantly answered.“Meerah. I’ve been
Vincenzo’s POVI grabbed my phone from the desk, staring at it for a moment as if the device itself held some kind of answer to the turmoil running through my veins. With a hesitant exhale, I pressed the dial button, the faint ring vibrating in my palm as the call connected. It rang three times before my accountant, Frank, picked up on the other end."Hello?" His voice was steady, calm, as always, but I could detect the smallest trace of fatigue in it."Frank," I said, my voice rough, weighed down with more than just a business inquiry. "I need the full details of the property in Las Vegas. The one I’ve been considering. The one near the Strip."There was a pause on the other end. Frank was never one to take a second too long before responding, which made me all the more aware of his hesitation now."Of course, I’ll pull it up for you. But, listen, we need to talk about something first. It's important." His tone shifted, just enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck."Importan
Vincenzo's POVThe world felt like it had shifted beneath my feet, the ground unsteady and foreign, as if the very foundation I had spent my life building was crumbling before my eyes. My mind raced, thoughts colliding in chaos. Someone had hacked into my accounts, manipulated my dealings, violated the fortress of security I had carefully crafted over the years. And I couldn’t help but feel that Marcello had a hand in it.Marcello. His name echoed in my mind like a drumbeat, relentless and ominous. It made sense, didn’t it? The way he’d hovered around me like a predator, always just out of reach but never fully committed. We’d both been playing this dangerous game, testing each other, but now? Now, it felt like he’d crossed the line. If I were to be honest with myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one pulling the strings behind this scandal.I was done being polite. Done with games. This wasn’t about business anymore; this was personal. If Marcello thought he could dra
Lyra’s POVThe air felt thick around me, the tension in Marcello's gaze as he spoke of what happened, of how he forced me to leave, filling the room. His words were like daggers, sharp and unforgiving. Yet, despite the sharpness of his tone, there was an undeniable layer of vulnerability in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. He made me leave, but there had to be more behind it. I watched him, every fiber of my being focused on understanding, but at the same time, the past still lingered like smoke in the air, hard to shake off."You know why I did it," Marcello said, his voice low, almost a growl as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his dark hair. "I thought I was protecting you, Lyra. It was the only way. I didn’t want you to be caught in this madness."I swallowed hard, my heart thumping against my chest. It was a struggle to keep my thoughts clear, to keep the past and the present from colliding. I could feel the rawness of it, the anger I had buried for so long su
Lyra's POVI leaned back in the chair, still feeling the remnants of the wine swirling in my head. It was a heady, dizzying warmth that wrapped around me, making everything feel a little out of focus. My laughter from earlier still lingered in the air, faint echoes of madness. I hadn’t even realized how much tension had been building in me until it all cracked open, spilling out in bursts of hysterical amusement.But now, I was alone with my thoughts again. Alone with the consequences of everything that had happened. The rogues, Vincenzo's confession, and then… Marcello.Marcello.The name tasted bitter on my tongue. The man who had looked at me like I was nothing more than a piece of prey. He had wanted nothing to do with me, and now… Now he wants to be my mate?I exhaled sharply, the confusion and anger bubbling up inside me again, threatening to spill over.I grabbed a lock of my hair, the strands slipping through my fingers as I brushed them back over my shoulder. The motion was r
Author’s POVLyra stood in front of the mirror, the delicate fabric of the gown now draped over her body, its intricate lace and beads clinging to her curves in a way that was both intoxicating and alien. The soft shimmer of the gown reflected in the dim light, the kind of beauty that could turn heads. She hadn’t expected to look this… elegant. She hadn't expected to feel the way she did, either.Her fingers traced the edge of the lace at her collarbone, the fabric so fine it almost felt like a second skin. The dress fit perfectly, as if it had been made specifically for her body—no room for any rebellion or defiance. No, the gown had been crafted for submission, and for a brief, dangerous moment, she felt it."Look at you," she whispered to her reflection, a bitter laugh rising in her chest. "A perfect little puppet in Marcello's play."The bitterness in her voice echoed louder than the silence around her. She was playing his game, but the rules were becoming increasingly hard to swa
Meera’s POVGabriel snorted. “They look like they’d taste like old money and cruelty.”I laughed—sharp and sudden—and it startled both of us. I hadn’t realized how close I was to shattering until the sound escaped.Gabriel reached across the gearshift and laced his fingers with mine. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got some cash. I mean, not mansion-cash. But enough.”“I don’t care about the money,” I whispered.“I know. That’s what scares him.” He glanced over. “You’re the only thing in his world that doesn’t have a price tag.”I stared at him, at the curve of his jaw, the tiny scar near his eyebrow from when he fell off his skateboard last year, the way he looked at me like I was human—messy, complicated, and still worth choosing.“Where are we going?” I asked.He smiled. “Anywhere but there.”Which turned out to be a 24-hour diner that smelled like burnt coffee and salvation. We slid into a booth with cracked red vinyl seats, steam clinging to the windows, everything humming with fluore
Meera’s POV“I’m not having this conversation again.” I crossed my arms and leaned back into the velvet couch like it was my throne. “You hate Gabriel. We get it. Move on.”Dad stood by the fireplace like some overgrown villain from a period drama, one hand wrapped around a crystal glass of scotch he hadn’t even sipped. He wasn’t drinking. He was brooding.“You’re throwing your future away for a boy with no legacy, no—no direction,” he snapped. “Do you know what the Sinclairs think about this?”“The Sinclairs can choke.” I said it calmly, too calmly, which I knew would needle him more than screaming.His eyes flared. “Meerah.”“Don’t Meerah me,” I shot back. “You act like I’m bringing home some street criminal. He’s smart, kind, and he doesn’t kiss your ass, which, let’s be honest, is the real issue here.”Dad laughed, the kind of cruel, clipped sound that made my stomach twist. “Kind? Is that what you think this boy is? Sweetheart, he’s a parasite. Clinging onto my daughter for a tas
Marcello’s POVShe flinched when I entered. Like my shadow alone was poison.I shut the door behind me and said nothing at first. Just stood there, staring at the girl who haunted my nights and defied me by day.“Lyra,” I said softly, taking a step toward her.She shrank back immediately, pressing herself into the carved headboard. “Don’t touch me.”I paused. My hands lifted instinctively—open, calm, as if that would undo what she’d just lived through.“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.“You already did,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why are you like this?”I felt something coil inside me. Something old and cold.“You belong to me,” I said, slowly, carefully. “No one else gets to speak into your life. Especially not her.”She blinked, her lips trembling. “Her. You mean Rebekah?”I didn’t answer.“You lied to me.” Her voice grew stronger, edged with fury. “You never told me she was your ex. Why?”“That is none of your concern,” I snapped.She flinched again. I gritted my teeth
Marcello's POVDamn it.That deranged woman finally got to her.Rebekah. That name alone made my jaw clench. I could see her fiery silhouette just beyond the corridor, her voice a venom-laced lullaby winding its way into Lyra’s unsuspecting ears. My blood boiled. Only the heavens knew what poison she was whispering. I couldn’t let her think she was special. Not Lyra. Not the slave I hadn’t yet broken.I turned on my heel, boots slamming against the marble floor of the estate. The guards flinched when they saw the thunder in my eyes. I brushed past them, my stride long, calculated—each step meant to erase every word Rebekah dared plant in Lyra’s naive head.As I approached the grand hall, my voice thundered across the walls like a coming storm.“LYRA!”Both of them turned.Lyra’s eyes went wide. Hope flickered in them, fleeting, foolish. She took a step back as I closed the distance.“Get out. NOW,” I barked.She froze, trembling, lips parting to protest.I didn’t give her the chance.
Lyra's POVMy breath hitched.Standing beside Marcello—arm looped casually through his—was her.The woman from the mirror.The ghost, the enigma, the whisper in the air that had vanished like fog on glass. Only she wasn’t vanishing now. She was right here. Tangible. Alive. Wearing a gown that shimmered like starlight and a smile far too polite to be real.Marcello’s gaze locked on mine the moment I froze. His brows drew together, concerned flickering beneath his polished composure. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My mouth felt like it was full of sand.“Lyra,” he said, gently tugging me closer. “This is Rebekah. She’s an old family friend.”Old didn’t even begin to cover it.Rebekah extended a graceful hand, her expression as smooth as porcelain. “It’s nice to meet you, Lyra.”I stared at her hand for a beat too long. The memory of her touch—cold, knowing, impossibly ancient—still clung to my shoulder.I reached out, hesitating just a second before our palms met.The moment her fingers br
Lyra’s POVI tried not to laugh too loudly, biting my lip as Marcello’s godfather launched into some wise old-man speech about "honor" and "pack unity"—the usual werewolf drama, seasoned with a side of testosterone. Vincenzo stood off to the side, arms folded like a sulking teen, while Marcello glared daggers at him with a fury I hadn’t seen since someone tried to cut in front of him at that New York deli last summer.Men.I said it silently, internally, but the word carried a weight of exasperation—laced with something I couldn’t name. Dread, maybe?“No, tell me—you got a problem with Lyra being my mate?” Marcello growled, shoving Vincenzo square in the chest.Vincenzo didn’t budge, only scoffed and tilted his head with the lazy arrogance of someone who enjoyed this too much.That was… weird. Not the aggressive man-drama. I mean the shove. It lacked force, like Marcello hadn’t really meant it. Like he wanted a reaction, not a fight.And suddenly, I felt like the room was shrinking.“
Marcello’s POVThe room hummed with confusion and anticipation as Vincenzo made his way to the stage. His calm, composed movements did nothing to quell the surge of jealousy and indignation welling up inside me. The audacity of it all! My father, the godfather, had called Vincenzo to the stage—Vincenzo! Not me, his own flesh and blood.I couldn't hold back any longer. My fists clenched, and I pushed through the crowd, making my way to the front of the stage. My heart raced with a mixture of disbelief and fury. I could feel the eyes of everyone on me, but I didn’t care. What I needed now was an explanation, and I wasn’t going to wait any longer."Father!" I called out, my voice thick with frustration. "What is the meaning of this?"Gambino turned slowly, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. He didn’t seem surprised by my outburst, but there was no softness in his gaze—only that cold, calculated look that sent shivers down anyone's spine. The power in his stare was undeniable, and yet, I w
Vincenzo’s POVI stood there, feeling my jaw tighten, each muscle in my body screaming with tension. The moment Marcello spoke, I felt the room contract around me, the space thickening with the weight of his words.His voice—the inflection, the arrogance—pushed me to the edge. But I stayed composed, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. I walked past him, the calm before a storm, as the air crackled with unspoken words, with unspoken threats.As I moved toward my seat, the familiar, cold sensation of rage washed over me. I could feel the anger curling in my chest, like a live wire ready to burst, but I held it back. I had to. I knew that once I let it go, there would be no stopping it. It wasn’t just Marcello I wanted to crush in that moment—it was everyone who ever dared to think they could challenge me, undermine my authority.Then, as if the pressure wasn't enough, I heard Carlo's voice. My right-hand man. He was the one person I trusted to follow my orders dow
Lyra's POVThe night was alive with music, laughter, and the hum of hushed conversations, but none of it mattered—not in this moment. My eyes were fixed on the entrance, waiting, watching. Every breath I took seemed to reverberate with the anticipation of what was to come. I couldn’t help it. There was something about the way Vincenzo moved through a room that was magnetic. It was as if the very air around him shifted when he entered, making everything else fade into the background.And then, he walked in.My heart skipped a beat as soon as I saw him. The sleek black of his jacket seemed to absorb the light in the room, accentuating the sharp lines of his figure. His movements were fluid, controlled—powerful, yet with an elegance that made it impossible to look away. The way he held himself, the confidence radiating off of him, it was like he knew the world was his and tonight, the party, was just another stage for him to dominate.I didn’t even realize I was smiling until I caught a