I sold out a mafia boss. A girl in debt, a mafia boss and a golden cop. Please this story starts off at a fast pace, but then it slows down to capture every scene I feel needed to be captured. But after that, it goes really fast I promise you. Lana Denver is a secret undercover girl for an FBI agent Charles Gregory. She owes him her life so in return, she decides to be his secret undercover girl, receiving crucial and vital information from criminals through her body, betraying them and even selling them out. She’s been doing this for years, making Charles the golden Cop, everyone thinks he’s such a genius, for always solving cases and gaining outrageous leads. Lana has been under the protection of Charles until he gives her another job, that is to get information from a deadly man known as Ricardo Borrelli. Lana never knew Ricardo is a ruthless mafia boss. With her wonderful body, she gets information out of Ricardo and when she does, after a night well spent, she slips out the next day and sells him out to Charles. In seconds, Charles had police swarm in, warranting an arrest for him and his gang. Ricardo knows the snitch couldn’t be none other than Lana and he swears to track her down and make her pay. But Charles protection over Lana is so strong or so she thought…
View MoreRicardo’s POVI finally get myself together. The dull pain in my groin reminds me that Antonella has no limits when she’s pissed. I straighten my blazer, wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb, and step out of the car.I step through the front doors, and the first sight that greets me isn’t one I expect. Antonella is seated on the couch, holding Isabella in her arms; our youngest, sleeping peacefully like she has no idea her parents are inches away from destruction.Beside her stands the maid, looking awkward as hell, and across the room, standing near the staircase, is Gianna. My Gigi.She doesn’t run to me. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t light up like she usually does. She just stares at me with those big eyes like she’s looking at a complete stranger.Something inside me snaps quietly. Antonella’s eyes find mine, and her stare says everything. Of course. Of course this is happening. Of course my daughter looks at me like she doesn’t know me.Antonella’s gaze is full of disdain, a silent
Angelo’s POVThe warehouse smells like rust and old blood. It always does. This is the same warehouse where I kept the guy who murdered our loan shark. Back when he was crying about keeping all his fingers. I step inside to see him already waiting, shifting on his feet like he is standing on hot coals. He gives a weak smile when he sees me, then straightens up and puffs out his chest like it would help.“Mr. Angelo,” he says,with his hands twitching nervously. “I—uh—I did what you said.”I cross my arms. “Go on.”He pulls a folder from his coat and hands it over. “You asked me to multiply by five half of the 570 million. I turned that into 855 million.”I flip through the file. Numbers, transfers, dummy corporations. The man has done his homework. I whistle low. “You tripled it.”He nods whilst swallowing hard. “Yes, sir. I—uh—wanted to impress you.”I look up, smirking. “You did good, man. But it’s not enough.”His face drops like I had slapped him. “I—I know. I know,” he stammers.
Charles’s POVWe’re in the car, heading to the airport. My thoughts have been looping, clawing at the same image. Lana with Ricardo Borrelli, dressed like a slut.Alma speaks first. “I still can’t believe you saw Lana with Ricardo.”I shake my head. “I still can’t believe it myself. A part of me hates myself, Alma. For being so fucking lackadaisical in the search for her. I should’ve put in more effort. I should’ve known she was with the enemy.”Alma reaches across the seat and rubs my shoulder gently, like I’m some wounded animal. “It’s not your fault. You wouldn’t have known. No one would have guessed.”I lean into the headrest, staring out at the traffic like it’ll give me answers. “I should’ve. You know, if Davida’s men hadn’t screwed up, if those bullets had gone through that door like they were supposed to, Lana would’ve been dead. Gone. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”“But she’s not,” Alma says quickly. “She’s alive.”“You don’t get it,” I snap. “And I’m not ready
Angelo’s POVThe next morning, Lana and I drive in silence. The kind of silence that isn’t peaceful, just filled with everything neither of us wants to say first.I keep my eyes on the road. The jet isn’t far now. Twenty minutes, give or take. After that, I don’t know what comes next. Hell, maybe I don’t want to.She is the one to break it, the silence. Of course she is.“What are you gonna do?” Her voice is soft.I don’t answer.“What’s your brother planning?”I suck my teeth, annoyed, and keep my eyes forward. She doesn’t back down.“Please, Angelo,” she says, “tell me. I heard him last night, talking to that cop guy—Charles. He told him to let Señor Davida know he owes him. And he wasn’t talking about money.”Still, I say nothing. Her voice is starting to grate, and not because it is loud but because it is right.“You already know what he’s gonna do,” I mutter.“No,” she says firmly, “I don’t.”I tighten my grip on the wheel. “He’s going to kill someone.”The car goes even quieter,
Charles’s POVAs I walk through the foyer of Señor Davida’s mansion, my mind is on a spiral. My hands clench at my sides, and my jaw aches from how tight I’m holding it. Lana’s alive.All this time, she’s alive and well. And Ricardo fucking Borrelli has her. After all this time, the worry, the guilt… she’s been alive. For months. Months that I could’ve had her back. Months that that bastard Ricardo Borrelli had her.I feel sick. I don’t even want to imagine what he’s done to her. He’s got her dressed up like a slut, parading her around like a possession, calling her his slut like she’s nothing more than a goddamn toy.That image of Ricardo touching her, owning her, breaking her, it makes me want to kill something. I wonder how many times Ricardo has fucked her. How many times he’s laid claim to what was never his to take.I am pissed. How the fuck did Ricardo get his hands on Lana? There was no way, no fucking way, Ricardo could’ve linked Lana to what happened to him. I was careful. I
Lana’s POVCharles still has his eyes on me. The disbelief on his face is unmistakable, like he’s trying to piece together whether I’m real or some cruel trick his mind is playing on him.I snivel as I quickly dry the tears from my eyes and look away, willing myself to appear unaffected. I can't afford to let Ricardo see me like this.But Ricardo notices. He notices everything. His eyes flick from me to Charles, studying the way Charles is looking at me. He turns to face me, then back to Charles, and I see the suspicion in his eyes. "Angelo," Ricardo calls out. "Can you take Antonella back to the car and drive her to the hotel?” Antonella’s brows knit together in confusion. "You’re not coming?" Ricardo’s voice turns cold. "Someone tried to assassinate us tonight, honey. I’m coming, just not right away." She hesitates for a moment, then sighs before leaning in and kissing him on his lips. It’s the second time tonight I’ve seen them kiss, and even though I refuse to acknowledge
Lana’s POVThe voice from the megaphone sends a shiver down my spine. I freeze for a moment, as the words echo in my head. Then, slowly, I push myself up from where I had been crouched against the bed. I make my way towards the window, gripping the sill tightly as I peer outside. And what I see makes my stomach drop. Over fifty men, lined up in the darkness, surrounding the mansion like a swarm of well-armed ghosts. Every single one of them is holding a gun. This isn’t just an ambush. This is war. And it’s all happening on Davida’s land. Ricardo’s influence is unmatched. Even here, where Davida is supposed to hold the most power, Ricardo Borrelli has managed to turn men against their own leader.I watch, observing the activities outside. The person holding the megaphone isn’t Luca. It’s someone else. He looks as deadly as Luca, only that he’s more calm and collective.The voice rings out again. “Bring them down. Don’t make me count.”It’s beginning to feel too real now. Too fuck
Ricardo’s POVThe gunfire stops and there is silence. No more bullets flying through the air, no more splintering wood. Just stillness. I wait, listening with my gun clenched in my grip. My mind screams at me to move, but I don’t. Not yet. I need to be sure. I need to know this isn’t some trick, some ploy to lure me out. And then, when I’m certain there’s no movement beyond the door, I bolt. I rush to Angelo, dropping to my knees beside him, with my heart beating hard and fast. His body is still, and his face pale. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I press a hand to his shoulder, shake him slightly, but he doesn’t react. My jaw clenches as I fight to keep my emotions in check. Don’t lose it. Don’t fucking lose it. If my brother is dead… if Angelo is gone… I don’t know how to move on. He’s my family. My blood. My fucking life. I swallow back the panic I feel. My hands tremble as I check him, until I hear it; a sound, a breath.It’s choked, rasping. A gasping, a desperate
Ricardo’s POVI stand before Antonella, with my arms crossed, watching as she shakes with frustration. Her voice is low but it’s filled with fury. “You wanted to see me? Well, I’m here.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “You think I wanted to see you?” Her voice cracks, but she forces herself to hold it together. “I wanted you home. I wanted you home for your daughters. I wanted my husband.” I pause, then let out a short laugh. “Your husband?” I say incredulously. “Remind me when I got married to you.” Her face turns red, and for a moment, she looks humiliated, like she’s realizing just how pathetic she must seem, clinging onto something that doesn’t exist. But she doesn’t back down. I press on, wanting to make her snap, wanting to push her to the edge where all her delusions about me shatter. “Show me your fucking hands,” I demand. “Did I put a fucking rock on it?” And just like that, she snaps. She slaps me, and the slap comes quick and hard, stinging my cheek, but I don’t e
They say everyone has a debt to pay. Mine just happens to be my life. My name is Lana Denver, and for the past six years, I’ve lived in the shadows, gathering secrets, playing roles, and finding my way into the hearts of dangerous men. I’m not a cop, not a hero, and definitely not someone who sleeps easy at night. But what I am is a survivor—a survivor indebted to one man: FBI agent Charles Gregory.I remember flipping open yesterday’s newspaper, with my coffee on the counter. As always, his name was splashed across the headlines in bold letters.“FBI’s Golden Detective Cracks Another Case: Charles Gregory Stays One Step Ahead of Crime”I recall skimming through the article, already knowing what it will say:"Gregory’s instincts and exceptional dedication have once again led to a major breakthrough in a case that baffled authorities for months. Insiders at the Bureau describe him as a force to be reckoned with, a man who sees what others don’t. His latest victory is evidence of his u...
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