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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
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Anticipation isn’t really my thing. It’s that kind of gnawing unease that sits heavy in your gut, like waiting for the punchline of a joke that’s never coming, like being stuck on the edge of something, teetering between what could go wrong and what probably will. I’d rather skip the suspense and cut straight to the point—because waiting around just makes my skin crawl. I watched as the last of them filed out, leaving the place eerily quiet, just Alessandro and me left on the floor. The air felt thick, the kind of heavy that clings to your skin, making you all too aware of the silence that follows. It’s weird, right? I didn’t even blink when he broke into my apartment that night, like he owned the place. But now? Now there’s this tension hanging in the air, this unspoken challenge. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something about tonight that’s got me on edge. Not scared, just… aware. It’s like I’m standing at the edge of something, and I’m not sure
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I don't screw up, ever. When I set my sights on something, there's no 'maybe' in the equation—it's as good as done. Once I’ve locked onto a target, I become a relentless force. Obstacles? Just part of the scenery. Setbacks? They’re fuel for my fire. Call it what you want—stubbornness, tenacity, obsession—I don’t really care. What matters is that when I start something, I don’t stop until it’s finished, and finished on my terms. The world can try to throw me off course, but I’m like a freight train with no brakes. You either get on board or get out of the way, because nothing is going to keep me from crossing that finish line. Some might call it a flaw, but I think it’s my best asset. In a world where people are quick to quit, to make excuses, to settle for ‘almost’ or ‘good enough,’ I’m the one who pushes harder, digs deeper, and won’t rest until I’m standing on top with my goal in my hands. And trust me, there’s nothing sweeter than that moment when I look
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ It’s rare for me to be at a loss for words. I’ve talked my way out of more trouble than most people even know exists. But then there are moments—moments like this—where words just fail me. When everything I’m feeling hits me so hard, I can barely breathe. It’s like a tight fist around my throat, and no matter how much I try to swallow it down, it doesn’t budge. Feelings have a way of messing with your head, making you second-guess yourself. Normally, I’d say screw feelings, and keep it moving. But when it comes to her? When it comes to Fliss, it’s different. With her, I don’t need to think. I don’t need to protect myself from my own instincts or worry about my judgment being clouded. She’s the one person in my life who I can let my guard down around, the one person I trust without needing a backup plan. And trust doesn’t come easy for me. Hell, I’ve never done it—not with my siblings, and definitely not with my parents. I’m a vault, locked up tight, and everyone’s o
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I don't like being pushed into a corner. It’s like having a noose tightening around my neck with every move I make. And I don’t do well when I’m boxed in. I start looking for cracks, any way to break free. I don’t panic, I don’t freeze. I start thinking and strategizing. And all I could come up with was Brandon Kane. "The Westies?!" Brandon’s voice boomed through the room, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear those words coming out of your little sister’s mouth? The sister I’ve spent my whole life protecting suddenly talking about taking down a criminal group like it’s nothing?" I met his gaze, trying to stay calm. "Brandon, I’m not the same little sister anymore. I have grown up, I know what I’m doing. I just need your help to keep them off my back, create a distraction, or something." His expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he took a step closer. "And you think that just because you’v