Hey, everyone! 🤗 I hope you guys enjoy today's update but remember, I was clear about what this book was about. The disclaimer has warnings and triggers mentioned. This is a dark romance book so don't expect anything less. Also, thank you so much for the incredibly sweet birthday wishes. I wish I could give you all hugs! 💗 XOXO 💋
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Holy Shit! I rarely get this nervous. I hadn’t been that nervous since I was waiting for my final exam results. And even then, I didn’t feel as off-kilter as I did now. My whole body is buzzing, like I was hooked up to a live wire. It was that kind of feeling where I knew something big was about to happen, and I was caught between wanting to run toward it and bolt the other way. Every nerve in me was on edge, my brain working overtime trying to play it cool, even though all I wanted to do was roll my eyes at how ridiculous it was. Ghost’s text flashed across my screen: “Send me your address.” I had sent it to him hours ago, and he responded with his usual cryptic edge, warning that he wouldn’t tell me when he’d show up or give any other details. It was all part of his game—keeping me on edge, making sure I never felt too comfortable. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, re-reading his message as if it would reveal more than it did. But there was noth
Ghost ☩═☠︎︎═☩ I ripped off my mask as I stared down at the scene before me, a twisted work of art—her legs spread wide, blindfolded, wrists bound tight, and lips parted, waiting for my cock. It was almost perfect, almost—but not quite. The flaw in the picture? Too much fabric still clinging to her skin, hiding the parts of her I wanted to expose, to claim. Leaving her hair, I crouched down, moving slowly so she could feel every shift in the air as I did. Her head instinctively followed my movement, seeking out what she couldn’t see, but I caught her by the throat, forcing her back into position. My grip tightened just enough to remind her who was in control. Her neck strained, head tilted back, mouth still open and waiting. Desperate, almost like she knew exactly what was coming but was powerless to stop it. And that’s exactly how I wanted her—helpless, on the edge, and aching for whatever I decided to give her. I couldn’t resist. My hands found her breasts, fingers diggi
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I’ve always been a locked box, the kind with a heavy-duty padlock and no key in sight. I don’t share my thoughts with anyone, never have, never will. My feelings stay buried deep where no one can find them. Hell, not even I know where they’re buried half the time. People don't like that. It makes them uneasy when they can’t put you in a neat little box, label you, or figure out what makes you tick. They don’t like the unknown; it scares them. And scared people? They’ll do whatever it takes to make themselves feel better, to feel like they’re in control. So, what do they do? They dress it up as concern, like they actually give a damn about your well-being. They start throwing around words like ‘mental health’ and ‘emotional support,’ like those words mean something like they’re magic spells that will somehow crack me open. They say it’s for my own good, that therapy will help me ‘unpack my trauma,’ ‘heal my inner child,’ or whatever the hell the buzzword of the
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I entered the candle lit chapel exactly as the witching hour started, the scent of incense still lingering in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of old wood and forgotten sins. The dim light of the flickering candles cast eerie shadows across the stone walls, giving the place a sinister, almost otherworldly feel, bathing the room in a twisted mockery of holiness. This was the sanctuary where Giovanni prayed for the lost and broken souls, a place where he preached about redemption and forgiveness. But tonight, it was nothing more than a stage for the devil’s work. My work. I dipped my fingers into the holy water at the entrance, feeling its coolness against my skin. I caught Giovanni’s eye, and with a slow, deliberate motion, I brought my hand up to my forehead. I made the sign of the cross, but deliberately wrong—touching my forehead, then my left shoulder, skipping the center of my chest entirely, and finishing with a half-hearted swipe to the right.
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I lounged on the couch, my arms draped over the backrest, one leg casually crossed over the other. My gaze was fixed on Giovanni, crawling naked across the cold stone floor of our warehouse. Sweat glistened on his skin, streaked with blood, while his knees and palms were raw, dragging a trail of crimson behind him. Whenever he dared to stop, gasping for breath, Kelly’s mother stepped in with a blank, almost serene expression, pressing a glowing hot poker against his flesh. Each searing touch was a grim satisfaction, a small revenge for what he’d done to her daughter. The sizzle of burning skin filled the room, acrid and sharp. Giovanni let out a choked scream, barely escaping his throat before he forced himself to crawl across the stone floor. Each breath was a struggle, wheezing and labored. His fresh, blistering burns flared with every touch of the hot poker, reigniting his agony. His eyes reflected a grim realization: there was no escape, only endless suffer
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Sometimes, when people hit below the belt, I hit them where it really hurts. And trust me, I can go a hell of a lot lower. I don’t usually mess with innocents, especially not kids. That’s a line I don’t cross. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And right now, I’m staring down a whole barrel of desperation. See, it’s not every day you’ve got a ticking time bomb strapped to your back, a million-dollar bounty on your head, and two assassins trying to take you out in one fucking day. Sure, I put two of them in the ground, but the third? Luck like that doesn’t hold forever. If I want to get ahead of this—and I do—I’ve got to act fast. So, if that means getting my hands a little dirtier than usual, so be it. Sometimes, you’ve got to play the game on their level just long enough to win. And I’m damn good at winning. I’ve been in this business long enough to know how to handle a target on my back. You don’t survive this long without learning how to think th
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ My plans don’t miss. I never leave loose ends. But desperation has a way of turning clean cuts into bloody messes. And when you’re up against someone who’s just as ruthless, just as hellbent on winning as you are, things get… messier. The bastard is good at it. Smart enough to see the traps I lay out and sly enough to turn them right back on me. He's patient—the kind who bides his time and waits for me to get cocky, to think I've got him where I want him. That’s when he strikes, with a viciousness that almost makes me admire him. Almost. I stood in his office, dressed in a sleek black bodysuit and tight leather pants, my high ponytail swaying like a whip behind me. I’d come here armed with confidence, but all that self-assurance shattered like glass the second he opened his mouth. He took his time crossing the room, each step deliberate, eyes locked on mine with that infuriating, self-satisfied smile curling his lips. He stopped just a foot away—close enough
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I had never been this tongue-tied in my entire damn life. But of course, Alessandro had a way of stripping you down to your most raw, bare self—taking every word right out of your mouth before you even had the chance to speak it. I stood there, fists clenched tight, staring at the old man in front of me. His weathered face held a calmness that felt like a slap, he didn't know what was coming—the hell I was about to unleash on him. I could feel my temper boiling, my skin prickling with a rage I didn’t even know was there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream at Alessandro for putting me in this position or if I wanted to just get it over with, to dive headfirst into the darkness he was dragging me toward. I’d never laid a hand on an innocent or an old person. But here I was, staring down this frail figure in front of me, feeling the weight of Alessandro's eyes on my back. This was another one of his twisted games, a setup designed to push me to my breaking point,