Marco’s presence was overwhelming, his body heat making it hard to breathe. His dark eyes locked onto mine, making my heart race. “Why do you fight me, Sarah?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. I tried to step back, but the counter trapped me. “I won’t be your plaything, Marco.” He smiled, a dangerous, seductive curve of his lips. “Is that so?” He pulled me close, his hand burning through my dress. His lips brushed my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “I think you like this more than you admit.” I wanted to resist, but when his mouth claimed mine, I melted into the kiss, my body betraying me. Every touch ignited a fire I couldn’t control. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of desire. “You can’t deny what’s between us, Sarah” Sarah’s simple life turns dark when she catches the eye of dangerous mob boss, Marco De Luca. To settle her father’s debt, Marco forces her into an arranged relationship. Sarah fights to resist his control, but their fiery clashes spark undeniable passion.
View MoreSARAHI sat on the edge of the bed, watching Marco’s unconscious form. His chest rose and fell steadily, his face slack with sleep, completely unaware of the storm he had left in my head.I should have just walked away. I should have left the second I saw him like that—drunk, shirtless, and muttering her name. Aisha. His so-called secretary.If that was even true.A bitter laugh bubbled in my throat, but I swallowed it down. The thought alone made my stomach twist. My mind wouldn’t stop running through the possibilities. What if he had been lying to me all along? What if she wasn’t just his secretary? What if I had been stupid enough to believe all of his excuses while they—I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled through my nose.No. I needed to calm down. I needed to wait. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help anything.But God, how could I not?Everything about tonight had been wrong. The party, the forced smiles, the tension in the air I hadn’t been able to shake. And then to find him
SARAHI stared at Marco, my entire body frozen.Did I just hear that right?His voice had been slurred, thick with alcohol, but the name he mumbled was as clear as day.Aisha.Something inside me cracked, sharp and painful, like glass shattering.I swallowed, trying to steady myself, but my hands trembled as I reached for his shoulder, shaking him harder this time. “Marco, wake up,” I said, my voice uneven, breathless. “Get up, dammit.”He barely moved. His head lolled to the side, his lips parting slightly before another mumble slipped out.“…Aisha…”I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails digging into his arm.No.My heart slammed against my ribs, a sickening weight settling in my stomach.I shook him again, harder this time. “Marco, wake up! What the fuck is wrong with you?”Still, nothing.Just a groggy groan, his brows twitching slightly, his face slack. He was completely out of it.I clenched my jaw, my eyes burning as I stared at him, at the way he lay there so carelessly, unaware
SARAHThe party was alive—music blasting, laughter ringing out, people moving around with drinks in their hands. I was caught up in it, letting the distractions pull me in. The energy was infectious, and for a while, I didn’t think about anything else. But then, out of nowhere, a nagging feeling crept up on me.Marco.I hadn’t seen him in a while.I glanced around the crowded room, scanning the faces, but there was no sign of him. My stomach tightened slightly, but I tried to brush it off. Maybe he had just stepped out for air. Or maybe he had gone to take a call. It wasn’t a big deal.Except… it was unlike him.Marco didn’t just disappear without a word. If he needed to step away, he usually let me know. And the last time I had seen him, he had been with Aisha.I swallowed, my unease growing. Something wasn’t right.I turned my head again, trying to spot him through the mass of people. Nothing. No glimpse of his dark suit, no familiar presence near the bar or in the corners where he
AISHAMarco’s weight leaned into me as I carefully guided him through the grand hallways of his mansion. His steps were sluggish, his body heavy, but I kept moving, dragging him forward as subtly as I could. Every few steps, he mumbled something—half-slurred directions that barely made sense, but I forced myself to listen.“Left,” he muttered, pointing vaguely with his free hand. “Then, uh… another left.”I nodded like I was paying attention, though my focus was split between keeping us moving and making sure we weren’t being watched. My eyes flicked around constantly, scanning for any sign of Sarah or anyone else who might get in the way. The last thing I needed was someone questioning why I was hauling Marco through the halls like this.My heart pounded so hard it felt like I could hear it in my ears.Not from fear—at least, that’s what I told myself—but from the sheer pressure of the situation. I needed to get this over with. Fast.Isabella was waiting.And once I was done with thi
AISHAMarco took a seat beside me, stretching his arms across the back of the barstool, looking way too relaxed for someone who had just thrown a man out of his own party. His eyes flickered toward me, then to his drink, then back to me again.“You okay?” His voice was low, steady, but there was something else beneath it. Something unreadable.I exhaled through my nose, picking up my glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m fine.”Marco hummed, not entirely convinced. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t break his nose.”I let out a small laugh. “What, one punch wasn’t enough?”He smirked. “You think he deserved more?”“I think men like that deserve worse.” I took another sip before setting my glass down. “But he’s not worth it.”Marco nodded slightly, rubbing his jaw as he glanced toward the bartender. “What are you drinking?”“Whiskey.”His brows lifted slightly. “Didn’t take you for a whiskey person.”“I’m full of surprises.”Marco chuckled under his breath, then signaled for the bartender. “I’ll ta
AISHAMarco took a seat beside me, stretching his arms across the back of the barstool, looking way too relaxed for someone who had just thrown a man out of his own party. His eyes flickered toward me, then to his drink, then back to me again.“You okay?” His voice was low, steady, but there was something else beneath it. Something unreadable.I exhaled through my nose, picking up my glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m fine.”Marco hummed, not entirely convinced. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t break his nose.”I let out a small laugh. “What, one punch wasn’t enough?”He smirked. “You think he deserved more?”“I think men like that deserve worse.” I took another sip before setting my glass down. “But he’s not worth it.”Marco nodded slightly, rubbing his jaw as he glanced toward the bartender. “What are you drinking?”“Whiskey.”His brows lifted slightly. “Didn’t take you for a whiskey person.”“I’m full of surprises.”Marco chuckled under his breath, then signaled for the bartender. “I’ll ta
AISHASarah doesn’t like me. That much was obvious.I could see it in her eyes—the way she shook my hand, the way her fingers tensed just slightly, the way her lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was polite, controlled, but I wasn’t stupid.She didn’t trust me.Not that I blamed her.Women like Sarah had instincts. And mine was telling me that hers were screaming at her that I was a problem.Which, of course, I was. But she couldn’t know that. At least, not yet.I needed to be careful. I needed to move slowly, smartly, if I wanted to get close to Marco without raising too many alarms. If she thought I was just a secretary, an employee who happened to be a little friendly, she might let her guard down.I could work with that.I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I made my way toward the bar, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The party was elegant, the music low and sophisticated, the lighting dim and warm. Everything about the atmos
SARAHI watched them.My grip on my glass was tight, my fingers curling around the delicate stem as if it was the only thing keeping me tethered. The cool condensation seeped against my skin, but I barely registered it. My eyes were locked on them—Marco and that woman.She was too close. Too comfortable.Her laugh was light, airy, laced with familiarity. Every few seconds, she touched his arm, her manicured fingers gliding over the fabric of his suit like she had every right. A brush of her hand against his shoulder. A playful tap against his chest. And Marco—he wasn’t pulling away.My jaw tightened.The murmurs around me weren’t helping.“Who is she?”“She looks like she knows him well.”“She’s stunning. No wonder she walked in like she owned the place.”I exhaled sharply through my nose, willing myself to stay composed. I knew exactly what they were thinking because I was thinking it too. And I hated it.My husband, standing there with some woman draped all over him like she had eve
SARAHI stood next to Marco, my fingers curled lightly around my glass as my eyes kept drifting toward his mother. No matter how much I tried to focus on the party, my mind kept looping back to our conversation, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I remembered the way Marco had spoken about her, the tension in his voice, the unspoken things hanging between them. I inhaled deeply, steeling myself.This wasn’t the time to get lost in thoughts.Marco’s hand rested at the small of my back, grounding me as we moved through the party. The atmosphere was loud and lively, the clinking of glasses mixing with laughter and music. The expensive liquor was flowing freely, and the guests—some familiar, some new—were clearly enjoying themselves.Marco introduced me to one of his business associates, a sharply dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy grin. “Sarah, this is Alessandro Moretti,” Marco said. “We’ve been doing business for years.”Moretti extended his hand, smiling. “So,
SARAH The bakery smelled of fresh bread and cinnamon, a comforting aroma that greeted me every morning. I enjoyed the simplicity of our life. Our bakery, though it was small and modest, it was our pride and joy. Papa, had poured his heart and soul into this place, and it was a decent addiction to our community. “Good morning, Mrs. Alvarez! The usual?” I asked, already reaching for a loaf of brown bread. “Good morning, Sarah. Yes, please,” she replied with a warm smile. Handing her the loaf, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. Despite the financial struggles and the countless hours of hard work, I loved every moment spent here. My father and I shared a close bond, working side by side to keep our beloved bakery running. After Mrs. Alvarez left, I returned to kneading dough, humming softly to the tune playing on the radio. My father was in the back, preparing a new batch of new dough. The old Spanish tunes on the radio filled the space with nostalgia, reminding me of my mo...
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