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Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I’ve always known how to turn heads when I want to... I can play the bombshell role like a pro, and I’ve done it enough times to know the power it holds. Back in college, they used to call me a real-life Jessica Rabbit. So, naturally, one Halloween, I decided to take that to the next level. I slipped into that infamous red dress, threw on some killer heels, and strutted my way into the party. The reaction was priceless—guys tripping over themselves jaws hitting the floor. It was chaos, and I reveled in every second of it. I didn’t do it because I needed the attention; I did it because I thrive on the chaos I can create. It’s like a high, watching people lose their composure, knowing I’m the one pulling the strings. It’s a game, and I play it well. “WeAr soMeThiNG tHAt’lL mAkE mEn sTArE” Like men don’t stare no matter what you wear, right? It doesn’t matter if you’re in a hoodie and jeans or strutting in a bikini—half of them still act like they’ve never seen a
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ My sex life? Barely existent these days. Not that I’m complaining—I've got bigger fish to fry with Fliss needing me around the clock. But tonight, she’s with Brandon, and for once, I've got a few hours to myself. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll let myself have a little fun. Hell, I might even entertain the idea of taking someone home tonight... if they’re lucky. Time to scratch that itch I’ve been ignoring for months. I had set the timer for twenty-five minutes right after Alessandro left because I had work to do. I wasn’t about to let a big payday slip through my fingers, no matter what game he had in mind. Besides, I was more than ready to handle whatever he threw my way. I turned back to the guy I’d been talking to for the last twenty minutes. It was clear he was just looking for a quick fuck, and honestly, I wasn’t above it either. I’m not the kind of woman who’s going to sugarcoat shit—I hook up when I need to scratch the itch because holding down a relationshi
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my attention to detail. I don’t just notice things; I see them, really see them. Once something crosses my line of sight, it’s locked in. Faces, places, the way someone nervously taps their foot—those things stick with me. It's what keeps me ahead of the game. Knowing what others miss, seeing what they don’t. It’s like playing a mental chess match where I’ve already memorized all the moves. And trust me, when it comes down to it, I never forget the pieces on the board. And as Alessandro stood behind me in the dark where no one could see us, my mind involuntarily focused on every little detail. His presence behind me was like a live wire, hot and electric. The way his voice dipped low in my ear, so deep and smoky, his breath, hot and teasing against my skin, made my pulse quicken, each exhale like a whisper that only I could hear. The way his fingers had curled around my waist, holding me in place. When his thumb b
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I didn’t have the stomach for incompetence. I wasn’t running some bleeding-heart charity here—I had an empire to maintain. If you couldn’t handle the heat, you weren’t worth my time. The weak were meant to be crushed, not coddled, and I had no patience for anyone who couldn’t pull their own weight. I had no interest in holding anyone’s hand through the cruelties of our world. But a part of me got a certain thrill from it—watching people crumble, seeing them realize just how deep they were in. The way their faces twisted, their confidence shattered, every ounce of hope they had left turning to dust. That was the part I lived for. People had to learn the hard way that this world chews you up and spits you out. And me? I enjoyed the chewing. Watching them fall apart, one piece at a time, was practically an art form. Most people cracked like eggshells—too easy, really. But every crack, every twitch of their pathetic hope dying out, was still satisfying. It neve
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ It takes a lot more than a man’s touch to get under my skin. I don’t blush easily, and I sure as hell don’t get turned on by a little brush of fingers. But here I was. The night air was cool against my skin, but the heat between my legs was anything but. Here I was, in the darkness of a parking lot, one leg hooked around his broad shoulder while he devoured me like he’d been craving this all damn night. I had told him to wait for me earlier at the club, half-expecting him to blow me off. So imagine my surprise when he actually stuck around. His tongue moved with a skill that made me wonder just how many women had been in this exact position before. But right now, I didn’t give a damn. Every flick of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure through me, making it hard to remember that this had all started with a simple flirtation. I had my back pressed up against the cold metal of a car, but the chill barely registered. All I could focus on was the way he was worshippin
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Disappointment wasn’t something I was used to feeling, especially not when it came to myself. But today? I was pissed. So fucking pissed at myself. Last night was a complete disaster, and not for the reasons it should’ve been. I could handle the dead body, the blood on my hands, the messy clean-up—hell, that was just another day in this line of work. But the fact that I let myself get all twisted up over Alessandro? That was what really set me off. I wasn’t the kind of woman who lost her head over a guy. Never had been, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. But there I was, letting that smug bastard worm his way into my thoughts, into my fucking fantasies. It was pathetic. It was beneath me. And it made my blood boil. I threw open my closet, yanking out clothes with more force than necessary, needing something to do with my hands before I punched a hole through the wall. Alessandro was nothing but a means to an end, a dangerous tool in a world where e
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Domenico Costello had three sons—Luciano, Mario, and Vito. In our world, the family order means everything. Luciano, being the eldest, naturally became the Don, taking the weight of the family legacy on his shoulders. Mario, his second-in-command, the Underboss, was his trusted shadow. My father, Vito? He was the muscle. The enforcer. The one sent when words failed and blood needed spilling. He thrived in that chaos. Luciano had a son, Nikolai, to carry on his name. Mario had Marco, the heir to his empire. Then there was my father, Vito. His first child was Bianca, from his marriage to his perfect, first wife. Bianca Costello was everything the family could’ve asked for in a daughter—poised, elegant, and everyone's favorite girl. But Vito wasn’t the faithful kind like his brothers. He never was. He cheated on Bianca’s mother with my mother—his mistress at the time. And when she got pregnant with me, he did the unthinkable in the history of the Costello fa
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I don't do well with ignorance. If someone dares to ignore me, I’ll make sure they feel what it’s like to be invisible—twice as hard and with a smile. I’ll make it my mission to show them just how irrelevant they are to me. And I do it with a smile. See, it’s not about pettiness—it’s strategy. I’ll make sure my silence speaks louder than anything you could ever say. It’s funny, really, how people underestimate subtlety. They think it’s weakness, that silence means submission. They couldn’t be more wrong. Silence, when used properly, is a weapon. I’ve mastered the art of making someone realize they’re nothing without ever lifting a finger. It’s more fun that way—watching them figure it out on their own, bit by bit. That's what I've been doing for the past three days, I’ve perfected the art of vanishing. Every time Alessandro storms out of his office like a hurricane, barking orders and looking for someone to rip apart, I slip into the background like a shadow. Wh