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His Pov:I lay her down on my bed, her body trembling beneath me, barely holding onto her senses after I fucked her. Hard. Deep. Like I needed to brand myself into her very being. Like I needed her to feel me long after I was gone. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, swollen from my kisses, her skin still flushed with heat. And yet, the fire in her eyes hasn't dimmed. That defiant glare, that sharp tongueāGod, she gets under my skin in ways I canāt even put into words.I hadnāt planned to fuck her like that. Not there. Not then. But I couldnāt hold myself back. Not when she looked at me like that. Not when her voice dripped with accusations, with detest, with anger that cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Not when she threw those words at me, her voice laced with bitternessā" What did you think, huh? She's a slut anyway. Why would she mind being a mistress?"That hit me. Hard.Like a fucking gut punch I wasnāt prepared for. The way she degraded herself, reduced herself to something
Her Pov:When I open my eyes, the golden light of morning is already spilling through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues. I blink, my body heavy, sore. My gaze drifts around the room, searching for him, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sheets beside me are cold.I shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp ache between my legs makes me freeze. A whimper escapes my lips. Last nightā¦ he didnāt hold back. Not even a little. He took me as if restraint was a foreign concept, as if I belonged to him in a way that denied the need for gentleness. And now, I can still feel himāhis presence lingering inside me, on me, all around me.I exhale shakily, dragging my body up against the headboard, each movement a reminder of his merciless touch. Thatās when I noticed the bedside table. A plate of buttered toast, a cup of coffee still warm, a glass of water, andā¦ painkillers.My throat tightens. He thought of this. He knew. A contradiction wrapped in flesh and boneāthatās what he is. One moment,
His Pov:I made Rosalina breakfast before leaving early. My father was heading home today, and I needed to speak with him before he did. He had probably already heard everything from Eliza. Knowing her, it was likely all over the place by now.I arrived at his condo, where his men escorted me inside. I didnāt bring any of my people, except for my driver. This conversation wasnāt meant for witnesses.The room was dimly lit, the scent of burning tobacco thick in the air. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he observed the city below. His presence alone was a quiet warningācontrolled, dangerous, absolute. At least we have something in common. "I heard you wanted to see me." His voice was deep, calmāunbothered. He didnāt turn to acknowledge me, and I didnāt care."Yes," I replied, my tone just as cold. "Thatās why Iām here."Our relationship was nothing like what a father and son should share. No warmth. No sentiment. Just business.
Her Pov: I open my eyes after how long I don't know. It feels like I am living in a haze. I don't know when I am awake or when I am sleeping. It's always like being in the middle of a dream and a reality. As I open my eyes, I try to get up, but I don't have any strength to even move. After attempting a number of times, I finally get up from my sleeping posture and sit up using the wall as my support. I sit up and look around the small dark room. It's so dark that only a dim light is there. My eyes move to the door of the room. It's the only way of getting in or out. Without the door, there's nothing in the room. Just a mattress on the floor, and that's it. There's no window in the room, so I can't tell if it's day or night. It's not that I care, though. My gaze shifts to the abandoned plate of food in front of the door, and I try to get up. My body hurts with every move as I struggle to stand on my feet. Leaning on the wall taking support, I finally stand up and try to walk towar
His Pov:I sigh as the car parks in front of the venue. I usually hate this type of event, and I never attended them in the past. But this time, it needs to be done, and I need to attend the event. If it wasn't serious father wouldn't have send me here. Being the son of the leader of the Italian Mafia has given me a lot of things along with the responsibilities. Therefore, even if I personally hate it I didn't argue with father on the topic as I also know, we need to seal the deal with the Russians.Ethan Volcov, is a higher up in the Russian Mafia who reportedly is going to attend the event.My work is to attract his attention and have an introduction with him for a better chance of sealing the deal. I take a deep breath as I come out of the car and walk into the so-called venue.This is another stupid event of selling prostitutes to the elites of the society. To be precise to the scums of the society. But it can't be denied that this is the event you can find most of the influentia
Her Pov:I don't know what drug they put me on but I can still feel things around me see things even though they are blurry and can hear things even though they feel like they are coming from another world but yeah. I can walk as well, but I don't have much of my balance.Previously, whenever they injected me something, I lost my total sense and couldn't remember or feel anything. I would be like dead at the time.But this time it feels lighter than the previous ones. This time, I can tell things. I don't know if it's a good thing, though.They got me ready and blindfold me before taking me to somewhere.I don't know where they took me, but I could hear people talking and even naming prices.It took me a long while to understand that they were naming prices for me. But I couldn't react as the drug was slowly taking me over. A woman behind me was holding me as I was loosing my senses to even move a muscle of my body.The last thing I heard is " Sold". Before I lost in the darkness. Wh
His Pov: I chain up my pants as she gets up and goes to the washroom. Honestly, I don't know why the hell I did that.I usually don't lose control and never do anything without giving it several thoughts. I never in my life bought any prostitute or forced myself on anyone. Women always went crazy over me and could do anything to get just a glance from me. I have just had one night stands and never slept with a woman twice in my life. I had sex just for some fun and ended it just in there. For the first time, I bought someone with money, and honestly, even I don't know what I planned to do with her. But I definitely didn't plan to sleep with her or even touch her. But when she continuously started to beg me to let her go and give her passport back to her, something shifted in my mind.If she didn't beg, I could even consider this, but her seemingly not wanting me even after being used by several people got me on my edge. I didn't like that she didn't want me. But what got me off w
Her Pov: It has been around ten days since I have been here. Most of the time he doesn't stay at the house and I love it as I don't like to have him around me. He intimidates me too much and makes me really nervous for some reason. Whenever he's in the house I often catch his eyes on me and he doesn't even move them away as if he couldn't care less. It feels like he isn't watching me but more like studying me. He hasn't touched me again since the first day and sleeps in the separate room as well. I think he started to grow bored of me and I am also trying to behave according to him so that I can get rid of this soon and leave for the US as they handed him my passport. Well I tried to find ways to run away when he was not at home. But he locked the door from the outside and there's no other way to get out. The apartment is I guess on the 17th or 18th floor as it's very high I can't climb down or anything. Anyway what would I do running away as I don't have my passport with m
His Pov:I made Rosalina breakfast before leaving early. My father was heading home today, and I needed to speak with him before he did. He had probably already heard everything from Eliza. Knowing her, it was likely all over the place by now.I arrived at his condo, where his men escorted me inside. I didnāt bring any of my people, except for my driver. This conversation wasnāt meant for witnesses.The room was dimly lit, the scent of burning tobacco thick in the air. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he observed the city below. His presence alone was a quiet warningācontrolled, dangerous, absolute. At least we have something in common. "I heard you wanted to see me." His voice was deep, calmāunbothered. He didnāt turn to acknowledge me, and I didnāt care."Yes," I replied, my tone just as cold. "Thatās why Iām here."Our relationship was nothing like what a father and son should share. No warmth. No sentiment. Just business.
Her Pov:When I open my eyes, the golden light of morning is already spilling through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues. I blink, my body heavy, sore. My gaze drifts around the room, searching for him, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sheets beside me are cold.I shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp ache between my legs makes me freeze. A whimper escapes my lips. Last nightā¦ he didnāt hold back. Not even a little. He took me as if restraint was a foreign concept, as if I belonged to him in a way that denied the need for gentleness. And now, I can still feel himāhis presence lingering inside me, on me, all around me.I exhale shakily, dragging my body up against the headboard, each movement a reminder of his merciless touch. Thatās when I noticed the bedside table. A plate of buttered toast, a cup of coffee still warm, a glass of water, andā¦ painkillers.My throat tightens. He thought of this. He knew. A contradiction wrapped in flesh and boneāthatās what he is. One moment,
His Pov:I lay her down on my bed, her body trembling beneath me, barely holding onto her senses after I fucked her. Hard. Deep. Like I needed to brand myself into her very being. Like I needed her to feel me long after I was gone. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, swollen from my kisses, her skin still flushed with heat. And yet, the fire in her eyes hasn't dimmed. That defiant glare, that sharp tongueāGod, she gets under my skin in ways I canāt even put into words.I hadnāt planned to fuck her like that. Not there. Not then. But I couldnāt hold myself back. Not when she looked at me like that. Not when her voice dripped with accusations, with detest, with anger that cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Not when she threw those words at me, her voice laced with bitternessā" What did you think, huh? She's a slut anyway. Why would she mind being a mistress?"That hit me. Hard.Like a fucking gut punch I wasnāt prepared for. The way she degraded herself, reduced herself to something
His Pov: When the bell rang, I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, forcing the tension from my muscles. But it was still there. That feeling. That goddamn feeling I hadn't been able to shake since earlier tonight. Since her. She had cooked for me. And Iād fucking stood there, frozen, watching her shift nervously under my gaze, her fingers fidgeting, her cheeks flushed like she wasnāt sure if what sheād done was right. Like she was afraid Iād dismiss it. Dismiss her. That softness in her voice, the unspoken need in her eyesāit did something to me. Twisted something deep in my gut. No one had ever done that before. Not for me. People feared me. Respected me. Needed me. But no oneā¦ cared. No one gave without expecting something in return. No one saw me as a manājust a force, a means to an end. But she did. And it was fucking unsettling. Because I didnāt do softness. Didnāt do warmth. Those things made a man weak. Made him vulnerable. And yet, standing there, listening to
Her Pov:"Don't fucking touch me..." I hiss and his eyes darken so much they get just like the night.Dark... Unsettling...He tilts his head a little as a smirk takes over his face. A smirk is so dangerous. As he leans over me, his mouth reaches just to the shell of my ear as his hand squeezes my hands painfully."You..." His voice is low, a dark promise against my skin as his hand drifts up my thigh, slipping beneath the soft folds of my baby pink dress."Don't..." A breath catches in my throat as his fingers graze the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, teasing, lingering."Get to..." His lips ghost over the shell of my ear, warm and tantalizing, sending a shiver down my spine."Stop me."I try to push his hand away, my fingers wrapping around his wrist in a feeble attempt to resist, but he doesnāt yield. Instead, he presses me back, pinning me against the cold railing with nothing but his presence. A gasp escapes meāa sharp intake of breath, equal parts defiance and submission. His
Her Pov:The glass slips from my fingers.Time slows as it falls, spinning through the air before crashing against the marble floor. The sound of shattering fills the roomāa sharp, piercing noise. But I donāt hear it. Not really. Not over the deafening silence that rings in my ears, the blood roaring through my veins. I donāt even feel the icy droplets of water splattering against my bare skin, the tiny shards slicing against my ankles.Because all I can see is them.She is draped against him, her body moulded to his like she was made to fit there. A short red dress clings to every soft curve, vibrant against her golden skin, her blonde hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. She is stunning. Effortless. Everything I am not. And her handsāthose delicate, manicured fingersāare cradling his face with a familiarity that makes my stomach churn. Like she belongs there.And him?His lips.His lips are on hers.The breath in my lungs vanishes, like Iāve been punched in the chest, hard en
Her Pov:It has been two weeks since I found out I was addicted to drugs. Two whole weeks of living through a walking nightmare, clawing my way through withdrawal, fighting demons I never even knew existed inside me. The past fourteen days have been nothing short of hell. My body revolted against me, turning into a prison of agony and desperation. Sleepless nights melted into torturous days, where reality blurred into something grotesque. Nightmares didn't stay confined to sleep; they slithered into my waking moments, twisting shadows into monsters, whispering voices into my ears that werenāt there. My own mind betrayed me, playing tricks so cruel I lost touch with what was real and what wasnāt.I would wake up drenched in sweat, heart hammering against my ribs, gasping as if I had just surfaced from drowning. My skin burned and froze at the same time. My stomach twisted into knots of nausea that never truly left. Some days, the weakness was so severe that even the act of standing
His Pov:And Iām still paying her back.Even now.But hereās the truth Iāve been avoidingāthe truth that stings like a blade pressed against my throat.I didnāt remember Aunt Rachel.I only remembered the debt.I buried her somewhere deep, in the same place I shoved all the emotions I refused to feel, all the memories too painful to hold. She was lost in the graveyard of everything I had to kill inside myself just to survive.But thenāI look at her.At the woman sleeping just a few feet away. At the slow rise and fall of her chest, at the softness in her face now that she isnāt watching me with those sharp, searching eyes.And suddenly, sheās there.Aunt Rachel.Because of her.Because of the words she murmured so carelessly, not realizing they were pulling something out of me, I thought it was long dead. Not realizing how easily sheās stripping away the armour Iāve spent years building.She doesnāt even know.She has no fucking idea what sheās doing to me.She shifts restlessly, her
His Pov:My grip on the spoon tightens, the metal cool against my skin as I absorb her words. My gaze sharpens, studying her carefully, measuring the weight of what sheās just said."Even when she was sick most of the time?" My voice is quiet but firm, edged with something I canāt quite nameācuriosity, disbelief, maybe even fear. I test the question as if pressing on a bruise, unsure if it will bring relief or pain.She meets my eyes, and for a moment, I think I see hesitation flicker there. But then she nods slowly, deliberately, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Yeah."I wait for her to elaborate, for her to fill the silence stretching between us, heavy with things unsaid. And then, as if sensing my need for more, she does."Even then. Because love isnāt about convenience," she murmurs, her voice steady, but thereās something raw beneath it, something real. "It isnāt about ease or perfection. Itās about staying. Even when itās hard. Even when it hurts. Itās about choosing them,