Well, that took a turn, IYKYK... ☠️ Here’s another cliffhanger for you. If this chapter gets enough love, I might drop the next one a bit earlier. Make sure to comment, vote, and share your thoughts with me! I love hearing from you all. XOXO 💋
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ His tongue darted out, licking a tear from my jawline all the way to my cheek. The wet heat of it made me shudder. "You're such a pretty crier," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear, "You should cry more often. It suits you." In an instant, coldness coursed through my veins. My chest tightened as I tried to blink through the haze of fear and disbelief, struggling to make sense of what I was hearing. I have heard these words before, haven't I? His head tilted slightly to look into my eyes, his lips curling into a harsh, twisted smile that made my stomach churn. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. I searched his face, desperate to convince myself I’d misunderstood, that I was imagining it. But then, his voice drove a spike of ice through my heart. “That’s it, Red,” he murmured, his grip on my neck tightening just enough to make me gasp for air, “Let me see it. Let me see all that pain you’ve been hiding.” My insides froze, the words slammed into me so
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I swirled the whiskey in my glass, watching it catch the dim light from the rising sun. The bottle was empty now. I downed the last of the whiskey and set the glass down. I glanced over my shoulder. Viviane was still there, half-buried in my sheets. Her pale skin almost glowed against the black fabric, fragile like porcelain, like something I could shatter with the slightest pressure. Her breathing was shallow, the faintest hitch in each exhale told me she was alive. She wasn't crying anymore, but I’d felt her tremble once in a while. Now, she was still, too still, except for her fingers. They were curled into the sheet, clutching it like a lifeline. I turned back and stared at the wall in front of me. My shirt hung open, the buttons undone, the whiskey burning its way through my veins. I wasn’t drunk, not nearly. I wanted to feel every second of this. Loyalty was sacred, and she had none of it—neither professionally nor personally. She betrayed the FBI for
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The front door slammed behind him, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. My whole body flinched, and I gripped the sheets tighter, holding onto them like they were the only thing that was real around me. My chest felt hollow, like he’d ripped something out of me on his way out. And no, it wasn’t the physical part...I could live with that. It was the words he’d left behind, cutting me open and leaving me bleeding in ways I couldn’t see. I still smelled like him—whiskey and his cologne. I let out a shaky breath, but it felt like it wasn’t enough, like I couldn’t get enough air. He was gone. My throat burned. I thought I was done crying, but the tears were there again, stinging my eyes. I looked around the room—his room. The bed was a mess, the black sheets wrapped around me. His glass was still on the nightstand, empty now, just like the bottle beside it. The faint morning light from the window stretched across the floor. I ran a hand through my hair, m
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ We stood outside the courthouse, my FBI badge clipped to my belt. I forced myself to appear calm. The world was watching, even if I couldn’t see the cameras. Logan stood beside me. The faint smell of coffee clinging to him like always. “Viv,” Logan said softly, leaning closer so only I could hear. “We’re going to find her. You know that, right?” “I know,” I replied. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve got everyone on it, Viv. We’ll get her back.” I nodded stiffly, though I avoided looking at him. He meant well, but his words scraped against the rawness inside me. If only he knew. I didn’t need them to find Felicity, I’d made sure she was out of their reach. I needed them to believe me. And if I cracked, even for a second, it would all come crashing down. The faint rumble of engines pulled my attention, and Logan turned his head, squinting down the street. A line of sleek black SUVs rolled up, gleaming under the harsh midday sun. “Costello,” Logan muttered, his
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I leaned against the edge of the cot, hands gripping the fraying blanket as if holding on to something real could keep me from losing it completely. The old clock on the wall ticked louder with every second. My window...always locked, always barred reflected back the worst version of myself. Midnight was close. Two more minutes, tops. I knew all the guards, their routines: the same steps, same timing, the same coffee break that would leave my hall unguarded for exactly seven minutes. Seven minutes to slip out. Slipping out during the evening, when agents moved freely, was manageable but once night fell, the security tightened considerably. I grabbed my hoodie from the chair, tugging it on and flipping the hood up. I glanced at myself in the mirror and only saw tired eyes, tight jaw, mouth pressed into a line. I carefully arranged the blankets on my bed, pillows propped just right to mimic a sleeping body. My phone stayed on the bedside table, screen dark but pr
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Viviane stood in the corner of the FBI breakroom, clutching a folder close to her chest. The news still buzzed in her veins. The Costello case. She’d been handpicked to assist. It was the kind of opportunity rookies could only dream of. Her cheeks ached from holding back a smile, but this wasn’t just personal excitement; it was validation. The kind of validation she’d never been given before. Logan was across the room, leaning back in his chair, his arm draped lazily over the backrest, laughing too loud at a joke one of his buddies had told. He was the golden boy of the bureau, always surrounded by a pack of equally smug agents and he’d set his sights on Viviane the moment she walked through the door. At first, it seemed harmless, his charming smiles, the way he stayed near her desk. Viviane had brushed it off as standard office flirtation, nothing she couldn’t handle. But Logan Barlowe had a way of making himself unavoidable. He’d always be there, offering
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I dragged my gaze across the room, meeting each of their stares one by one. Every single one of them looked like they were debating the best way to get rid of me. Prolonged torture? A quick bullet to the head? The way Lorenzo’s fingers twitched against his thigh, I’d bet he was leaning toward something messier. Nikolai broke the silence, "Talk." It was an order that got on my nerves and for a split second, the idea of walking out crossed my mind. Turning my back on these people and never looking over my shoulder again but I wasn’t that naive. So I straightened up, “You know,” I started, “I half expected a thank you for saving all of your asses.” I tilted my head, “But then again, I know gratitude isn’t exactly your strong suit.” Scott’s lips twitched like he wanted to say something, but even that felt dangerous. Lorenzo’s glare darkened, his jaw ticking like he was ready to lunge at me. Nikolai just kept watching. "Speak fast," Marco snapped, "
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ No one spoke, but I could feel their anger, their doubt, their fear, all of it swirling together. They weren’t just suspicious of me anymore. They were starting to understand. I didn’t have time to waste. I pulled out my phone, unlocking it with a few swipes, and slid it across the table toward Nikolai. “Here. See for yourself.” He hesitated, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as if the device was something that would ruin him of he touched it. Slowly, he picked it up, scrolling through the photos and documents I’d taken from the FBI records room. Screenshots of classified files, pictures of handwritten notes, meeting logs, operational blueprints, it was all there. The others shifted uncomfortably, their eyes flickering between him and the screen, trying to gauge his reaction. Scott finally snapped, pushing back his chair and striding over to Nikolai. He leaned in, his jaw tight as he scanned the evidence, his eyes flicking between the screen and Nikolai like he w
Viviane☩═✦═☩This had to work. Failure wasn’t an option, not for me, not for her, and definitely not for the truth. If this plan fell apart, it wouldn’t just ruin everything I’d clawed my way toward; it would rewrite the narrative, paint her as the victim when she was anything but. The thought made my stomach churn. I stood at the head of the table, my arms crossed, watching the two boys fidget under my gaze. Their mothers stood protectively behind them, throwing nervous glances at each other. They weren’t scared of the courts or the cops. No, their real fear had a name: Nikolai. “Do I need to remind you how much I’ve already paid you?” I said.I leaned forward, my palms flat on the table, watching their faces carefully. One of the boys, the taller of the two, finally mustered the courage to speak. “Yeah, but… going in front of Don Niko wasn’t part of the deal. We agreed to testify in court, not to lie to him.” Before I could answer, one of the mothers stepped in, “Ms. Viv
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The morning air bit at my skin, cold enough to clear my head. Coffee in hand, I leaned against the front door. Last night replayed in broken flashes—her body beneath mine, her breathless moans, the way she looked at me. I shouldn’t have touched her. Not again. Not after everything. But fuck me, when she’s near, it’s like every ounce of logic burns away. And God, she makes it so fucking easy. One of my men stepped out of the car, with the garment bag in his hand. “Sir, the dress,” he said, holding it out. A dress for her. Something elegant, beautiful, tailored to fit her perfectly. Because, apparently, I’m the kind of man who has shit like this ready for a woman I can’t trust, can’t forgive, but still can’t fucking let go of. I snatched the bag out of his hand, and dismissed him with a wave of my hand. Inside the house, I dropped the garment bag onto the couch. The coffee in my hand was lukewarm now, but I drank it anyway, the bitterness biting at my to
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ His lips dragged a lazy path down my stomach, he kissed the sides of my waist, his stubble scratched against my skin, and when he reached the edge of my lace blue panties, he paused. His bloodshot eyes locked onto mine, half-lidded, intense, and filled with so much lust that made my stomach flip. His lips parted, his teeth brushing over the delicate lace as he caught the fabric. It wasn't smooth, it was messy, slow, and really sloppy. He tugged the panties down with his teeth, the fabric catching briefly against my thighs before sliding lower, until they pooled at my ankles. Every nerve in my body seemed to be on edge, my head spinning from the booze, the heat, the way he looked at me like I was something he was about to ruin in the best possible way. His mouth hovered just close enough to make me squirm. My head tipped back against the pillows, the room spinning like I was on a carousel I couldn’t get off of. When his tongue finally swept between my folds, I c
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Then he spoke again, and his voice hit me like a bucket of cold water. Oh, he was real. Too real. “You're the biggest headache of my life... and the only thing I can't stop wanting,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. His hand raked through his hair, and he looked down, like he was trying to find the words buried somewhere in the concrete beneath us. “You’re so goddamn...pretty. It’s infuriating.” I blinked at him, caught off guard, “What?” His head snapped up, and he looked at me like I was the problem, like I was the one ruining his life. “You heard me,” he said, “You’re pretty, okay? Too fucking pretty. And I hate it. I hate you. You make everything impossible.” My breath hitched, and I hated myself for it. “You hate me?” my voice trembling with anger or maybe it was something, “Good. Because I hate you too.” He stepped closer, and suddenly there was no space left between us. I could feel the heat rolling off him, his breath warm and tinged with whis
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The table felt lopsided, or maybe that was just me. I leaned forward, elbows planted on the table like some heathen with no manners. Across from me, Alessandro was laughing—a deep, rumbling laugh that I found fucking annoying and it grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Because his arm was draped around her. He was playing a new game, "I'm-going-to-make-Viviane-homicidal" game. Miss Bubblegum-Lip-Gloss-And-Too-Much-Perfume laughed at something he said, her perfect teeth gleamed under the lights. She was laughing like he was the funniest man alive. “Here,” he said, as he lifted a forkful of whatever overpriced dish was on his plate. “Try this.” She tilted her head, batting her eyelashes as she parted her lips and leaned in to take the bite he was offering. She ate the damn thing like it was a scene from a rom-com, her eyelashes fluttering like she had a severe medical condition. I nearly choked on my wine. I slammed my wine glass down harder than
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I’ve always had an ego. And I’m not exactly shy about it either. Call it arrogance if you want. Call it self-awareness. Doesn’t matter to me. I know who I am, and I own every part of it. The problem was when someone like me goes head-to-head with someone just as stubborn, just as egotistical, it’s not just a spark...it’s a fucking wildfire, and nothing survives that. Not pride. Not patience. Not us. We hadn’t spoken directly in over a month. Every word, every message, every order was funneled through his brothers like some sort of twisted game of telephone. I knew he hated it as much as I did, but neither of us would break first. It wasn’t just about stubbornness. It was about principle. I refused to be the one to crawl back, and Alessandro, well, he’d rather set himself on fire than give me the satisfaction of seeing him bend. Whatever. Let him stew in his own ego. Let him send his brothers to speak for him, like the coward he is. “Ms. Kane, the bo
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I ignored Viviane like my goddamn life depended on it, like she didn’t exist, and she returned the favor like a pro. Every other day, she showed up with something new to hand over, evidence, a strategy, or another clever way to make the FBI and the Cartel bleed. And every single time, Nikolai gave her just one name of a cartel member, leading her back to the bastards responsible for her sister’s death. It was a deal between them, a trade of trust. She didn’t hang around my family like someone looking for forgiveness. No, Viviane Kane walked in like she’d already claimed it. She was making herself indispensable, carving her space back into our world. Sometimes, I’d catch her on the couch with the girls, sharing a drink, laughing at one of their jokes, her guard down just enough to make her seem human again. Other times, she’d be in the corner with Nikolai and the other men, throwing back sarcastic words like they’d been friends for years. It fucked with
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ “What the fuck is she doing here?” Alessandro barked, his finger stabbing the air in my direction, though his eyes stayed locked on Nikolai. Nikolai shot me a brief look before turning back to him. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about.” I stayed by the door, forcing myself to stay calm as every memory of him came rushing back, hot and biting, like a wound torn open too soon. Ghost. “Talk about what?” Alessandro’s voice dropped an octave. Nikolai hesitated, and that was a first. He glanced between us before sighing. “She works for me now.” Alessandro laughed incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What the fuck does that mean, Niko?” I’d had enough. My patience had already been stretched thin, and I wasn’t about to let him bulldoze me again. Stepping forward, I slapped a file onto the table in front of Nikolai, the sound echoing through the room. “It means exactly what he said,” I cut in, turning to face Alessandro, “I work for Nikolai Costell
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Nikolai was calm today, like a man who already knew the end of the story and was just here to watch it play out. My attention snapped to the front of the courtroom the second she walked in and approached the stand. She raised her hand to take the oath, and I felt everything catch in my chest. The words were routine, the same for every witness, but hearing them from her, seeing her there... it hit differently. Nikolai glanced at me, like he knew something I didn't but I ignored him, my focus locked on her as the questioning began. Viviane Kane was on the stand, and I was in hell. She sat there, like none of this was a big deal, like she wasn’t sitting at the center of the storm she created. That fiery red hair of hers was slicked back into one of those tight buns. That grey pantsuit was just another lie. It made her look like she had her shit together, like she wasn’t the same woman who’d been crying in my bed a few nights ago, clutching me like I was her