... 🥵 SMUT. XOXO, 💋
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The table was cluttered with files, blueprints, laptops, and half-drunk cups of coffee. Our servers were up and running, secure lines established, and Allegra’s medical setup was almost complete. It still needed finishing touches, but the foundation was there. Two weeks in, and Nightfall Ops was no longer just an idea. It was a machine in the making. “Alright,” I said, tapping my fingers against the table. “Update me.” Allegra pushed a file toward me, rubbing her temple. “The medical wing is almost set up. I have a full list of potential recruits, doctors, nurses, trauma specialists. A few of them are clean. The rest... well, let’s just say they are on our husbands’ payroll.” I flipped through the file, nodding, “What about safe houses?” Bianca took a seat. “Two are ready. Fully furnished, secured but I need another week before they’re usable.” Evangeline looked up from her tablet. “That’s fine. We won’t need all of them immediately, but when we do, I want
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ His tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit down on it, like he was trying to hold something back. “It’s reckless. It’s dangerous as fuck.” I leaned in, “Yeah,” I murmured. “And it’s exactly what we want to do.” His face showed his displeasure very clearly, “Viviane, this isn’t something you just do. The people running these operations, the traffickers, the criminals, they aren’t just thugs on the street. They have entire systems in place. Corrupt officials, government backing, protection you can’t even begin to imagine. You step into this world, and you’re making enemies you won’t see coming. I won’t let you walk into that kind of danger.” “Alessandro—” “No. You need to hear me. You think I don’t get it? That I don’t respect what you’re trying to do? I do. But you’re not playing in a sandbox. You’re stepping into a war zone with people who don’t lose. You think these bastards will just let you interfere?” he shook his head, “They’ll come for you and I won
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The rain didn't slow down, our clothes clinging to our bodies. Viviane sat in my lap, her soaked dress bunched up around her thighs. My Bugatti’s engine hummed beneath us, and I couldn’t stop looking at her. I brushed her hair away from her face, and she shivered. She was so goddamn beautiful, it made my chest ache. My obsession, my addiction. She had no idea what she did to me, how deep she’d buried herself inside me. “Alessandro...” her voice was breathless. I slid one hand to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her wet hair as I pulled her closer. “Say my name like that again,” I murmured, my lips hovering just over hers. Her eyes searched mine. I saw her emotions warring in her head for control. Need. Heat. Surrender. I tilted my head, dragging my lips along her jaw, tasting the raindrops on her skin. She gasped, tilting her head back, giving me more, and I took it. My mouth found the hollow of her throat, my tongue tracing the rapid pulse there
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Brandon was already seated when I walked in, nursing a glass of something strong. He didn’t look up when I slid onto the stool beside him. Didn’t acknowledge me. I signaled the bartender with a flick of my fingers. “Macallan M Black, neat.” Brandon scoffed. “Figures you’d order the most expensive shit on the menu with your dirty money.” I raised both of my eyebrows, “You’re the one who picked the place.” The bartender nodded and set to work. I leaned back, stretching out my legs. I didn’t need to put on a show for him... power, real power, was quiet. It didn’t need to be flaunted. Brandon finally turned his head, his eyes full of something I recognized all too well, judgment, barely restrained aggression. “Let’s get one thing straight, Costello,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And I sure as hell don’t approve of you being anywhere near Viviane. No matter what you say.” I nodded, taking my tim
•Nikolai• ╌═❁═╌ The gym smelled like sweat, blood, and old leather—my kind of place. The ring was empty except for me and Massimo. My six-year-old son stood in front of me, his small hands wrapped in white tape, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His eyes stared up at me, burning with something that wasn’t normal for a kid his age. Good. The world wasn’t kind to normal men. I cracked my neck, flexed my fingers, and gestured for him to come at me. "Hit me," I said. Massimo didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, fists swinging, tiny but vicious. I saw the blow coming a mile away, stepped aside easily, and cuffed him on the back of the head. Not hard, but enough to make a point. He stumbled forward, but instead of frustration, a sick grin split his face. "Again," he breathed, licking the corner of his mouth where his baby teeth were still growing in. I smirked. "That all you got, kid?" His nostrils flared, and he threw another punch. It was wild, untrained
Lorenzo ─·𓆰𓆪·─ The house smelled like garlic and rosemary, wrapping around me the second I stepped inside. I heard the faint clatter of pans, and the sound of Aurora’s voice, clear, proper, and already too smart for her own good. I shrugged off my coat, rolling my shoulders as I walked in. My muscles ached from the long day, but the second I saw them everything else faded. Aurora sat at the kitchen island, her tiny hands folded neatly over the marble counter. Even at five, she carried herself like a princess, chin high, back straight, her strawberry blonde hair brushed to perfection. She wasn’t just my daughter; she was a force. "Daddy," she greeted, barely sparing me a glance as she delicately sipped from her glass, sparkling water, no ice, just the way she liked it. "You're late." I grunted, stepping toward her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like vanilla and honey, like the warmth of home. "Had business." "You always have business," she said, sig
Allegra ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I locked the bathroom door and pressed my back against it, my heart beat went crazy as I heard Scott’s heavy footsteps approach. I had precisely three seconds before— Bang. Bang. Bang. "Allegra. Open this fucking door." I closed my eyes and sent up a quick prayer. Lord, grant me patience. Bang. "Allegra Mancini, I swear on everything unholy, if you don’t open this door, I’ll take it off the hinges." I crossed my arms, "You wouldn’t dare." A slow menacing chuckle echoed from the other side, "Wouldn’t I?" I turned, planting my hands on the wood as if that could somehow reinforce my barricade. "Scott, you’re overreacting." "Overreacting?" his voice was filled with disbelief, "My wife—the most delicate, doe-eyed, church-going angel I’ve ever met—just informed me that she’s been running a fucking vigilante operation. Kidnappers. Traffickers. Organ harvesters," he exhaled sharply. "Sweetheart, the scariest thing you’ve ever done is forget to
Lilianna »»»◈««« I had precisely one shot at this. If I told Marco under normal circumstances, he’d shut it down immediately. If I waited, he’d find out anyway—because he’s Marco. He’d outmaneuver me, corner me, and by the time I realized what he was doing, it would already be over. So I had to be strategic. Which is exactly why I waited until he was inside me. It wasn’t playing fair but I wasn’t playing. Marco had me on my hands and knees, my spine arched. His grip on my hips held me in place. One of his hands left my hip, sliding up the curve of my back, pressing between my shoulder blades, pushing me deeper into the mattress. I pressed my cheek against the mattress and whispered, "I started my own company." His movements slowed, uncertain like he wasn't sure he heard me right. I pressed my face harder into the mattress, "A rescue organization. Human trafficking, organ trafficking—" I rambled on and on. Marco’s fingers tightened bruisingly on my hips. And then he
And just like that, we’ve reached the end. I can’t begin to express what this journey has meant to me. Nearly three years ago, I started writing this series, pouring my heart into every page, every twist, every broken character working their way toward redemption. What started as a single story turned into a world of love, betrayal, sacrifice. A world that, for so long, felt just as real to me as the one outside my screen. This series has been my constant companion, my late-night obsession, my endless battle between frustration and joy. I’ve spent years with these characters, watching them evolve, break, heal, and fight for the love and survival they never thought they deserved. Letting them go feels like saying goodbye to a piece of myself. To those of you who have been here since the beginning—to those who joined somewhere along the way—thank you. Your comments, your excitement, your passion for these characters kept me going when the words refused to come. Every time
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I had never been a big emotional crier. Not when I got shot. Not when I faced down criminals twice my size. Not even when I was in labor with both of my children. But watching Felicity walk across that stage in her cap and gown? Yeah. I was losing it. Sixteen years old. Valedictorian. Just like me. I squeezed Alessandro’s hand, trying to keep my emotions in check as she reached the podium. She looked so grown up, standing there, her red hair shining under the stadium lights, her eyes scanning the massive crowd like she still couldn’t believe this was happening. I still couldn’t believe it was happening. I remembered the tiny girl who used to curl up next to me in a hospital bed, hooked up to dialysis, her body too small for the battles she had to fight. I remembered the way she clung to me after Stella died, the way she had once been so fragile and now? Now, she stood before thousands, confident, brilliant, with the whole world waiting for her.
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ FOUR YEARS LATER •───⋅────⋅───• The pregnancy test lay on the counter. I stared at it. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting… Until— Two bright pink lines. My pulse slammed into my throat. My fingers trembled as I snatched the second test, my breath stalling in my chest. Bold, capital letters burned into my vision. Pregnant. I swallowed, my mouth dry as I reached for the third one, hoping, praying, begging for a different result. Pregnant. A hollow, gasping breath left me as I staggered backward. My legs barely held me up before I sank to the cold tile floor, pressing my knees to my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. My body was a time bomb, the life inside me a ticking fuse. I had read the statistics, spoken to the doctors, heard the warnings whispered like a death sentence. Fifty-fifty. A chance to survive. A chance to die. And the baby, God, the baby. My mi
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The mirror reflected back a man I barely recognized. I was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the white of my shirt against the deep charcoal vest, I looked every bit the groom. My cufflinks were made of gold, engraved with my family’s crest. The tie was perfectly knotted, not a single wrinkle in sight. So why the fuck did my pulse feel like a war drum in my chest? “She’s not running, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nikolai drawled from the couch, glass of whiskey in hand. He looked as put together as ever, but there was amusement in his eyes. “The only person who might run is you.” I shot him a dry look, fastening the last button of my jacket. “I’d rather be shot between the eyes.” Nikolai smirked, “That could be arranged.” I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my jaw. “You ready?” I asked him. He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “To your last few minutes as a free man.” I rolled my eyes heavenwards, adjusting my cuff. “Let’s g
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The second we stepped inside, Alessandro had me against the wall, his body pressing into mine like he couldn’t stand the space between us. I moaned into his mouth, clawing at his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. My fingers worked fast, unbuttoning his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath as I slid my hands down his chest, nails raking lightly over his skin before pausing over the bandages where he’d been shot. The wound was nearly healed, but I still handled it with care. My fingers trembled there, hesitation flickering through me for the briefest moment. His hands tore my shirt over my head, his fingers finding the clasp of my bra, snapping it open with a single flick. It slid off, leaving me bare. His mouth never left mine, but his hands moved lower, unbuttoning my jeans, pushing them down my hips. I arched into him, needy, aching, tugging at his belt, pulling it free, hands sliding under the waistband of his pants. He grabbed my wrists, slammi
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The waiting room felt like a prison. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nose, and the cold, sterile lighting overhead made everything feel like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My fingers were clenched so tightly around the arms of the chair that my nails dug into my palms. My entire body was trembling, my lungs struggling to pull in air past the lump in my throat. Brandon sat beside me, his hand on my shoulder. On my other side, Felicity clung to my arm, her small fingers digging in. Across from us, Alessandro’s family filled the space. Nikolai stood with his arms crossed, his jaw locked so tight I swore I could hear his teeth grinding. Scott was pacing, his usual cheerfulness was gone, replaced by a dark look. Lorenzo sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, staring at the floor. Marco leaned against the wall, his head tipped back, eyes closed, but I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. Bianca was holding onto Stefano, her entir
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Francesca. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She shouldn’t be here. No one had seen or heard from her in months. The last thing I knew, Nikolai had taken everything from her. Every cent, every luxury, every privilege that came with the Costello name. He had stripped her down to nothing and cast her out. No security, no connections, no power. She was gone. Or at least, she was supposed to be. Her gaze locked onto mine, and with a slow, movement of her fingers beckoned me forward. Her eyes darted around, scanning the room, before she turned sharply on her heels, heading toward the back doors that led into the gardens. She wanted me to follow. For a split second, I considered ignoring her entirely, letting the past rot where it belonged. But then Viviane. Because if I didn’t handle this? She would. And despite every instinct screaming at me to leave her to it. I moved. The moment I stepped through the doors, it wasn’t the night I felt, it
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The whiskey in my glass barely moved as I leaned against the bar, listening to the low murmur of conversation around me. The party was in full swing, music humming through the space as we talked. Tonight, however, the topic of discussion was different. “We let them have their fun,” Nikolai said simply. Scott raised an eyebrow. “Fun? Fun?” He let out a laugh, “Niko, they’re not starting a book club. They’re going after human traffickers. You know, murdery people. Like us. Except worse, because they don’t have the rules we do.” Stefano sighed, “They’re going to do it whether we like it or not.” “Exactly,” I murmured, rolling my glass between my fingers. “Which is why we control it.” Marco frowned, “They won’t let us.” I smirked, “They won’t know.” That got their attention. Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. “Explain.” I took a slow sip of my whiskey before setting the glass down. “Their company is already operational. Websites, bank accounts, safe houses
Lilianna »»»◈««« I had precisely one shot at this. If I told Marco under normal circumstances, he’d shut it down immediately. If I waited, he’d find out anyway—because he’s Marco. He’d outmaneuver me, corner me, and by the time I realized what he was doing, it would already be over. So I had to be strategic. Which is exactly why I waited until he was inside me. It wasn’t playing fair but I wasn’t playing. Marco had me on my hands and knees, my spine arched. His grip on my hips held me in place. One of his hands left my hip, sliding up the curve of my back, pressing between my shoulder blades, pushing me deeper into the mattress. I pressed my cheek against the mattress and whispered, "I started my own company." His movements slowed, uncertain like he wasn't sure he heard me right. I pressed my face harder into the mattress, "A rescue organization. Human trafficking, organ trafficking—" I rambled on and on. Marco’s fingers tightened bruisingly on my hips. And then he