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.
Lihat lebih banyakMARCOThe phone nearly cracked in my grip as I rushed into the SUV. My hands were steady, but my heart was beating like a war drum. I jammed the key into the ignition, twisting hard, and the engine roared to life. I didn’t waste a second. I slammed my foot on the gas, tires screeching against the pavement as I tore out of the parking lot.The streets blurred past me. Headlights flashed. Horns blared. I didn’t care. I pushed the speed, weaving through cars like they were standing still. The city was a mess of moving lights, but I only had one thought in my head.Sarah.She had to be safe.I prayed, gripping the wheel tighter. I never prayed, but right now, I did. Let me get there in time. Let her be alive.My knuckles were white on the wheel as I cut through traffic, dodging between cars, taking turns so sharp the tires nearly lifted off the pavement. A semi braked hard ahead of me. I spun the wheel, the SUV sliding through a gap so small I felt the side mirror graze metal. The moment
FLASHBACK: The Attack on Marco’s HouseMarcel’s POV⸻I had been waiting for this moment. Watching, studying, knowing that Marco would retaliate the second he got the chance. That was the kind of man he was. If he got hit, he didn’t rest until he hit back harder. It made him predictable.That’s why I wasn’t going to wait for his move. I was going to make the first one.No spies. No informants. No middlemen. Just patience. Observation. And now, execution.I stood with my men in the darkness, watching Marco’s house. The place was locked down tight. Armed men patrolling the perimeter. Cameras on every corner. Motion sensors near the fence line. He thought this would keep him safe.It wouldn’t.I turned to Matteo, my second for this mission. He was calm, like always. He lived for this.“Marco just left,” I said. “Now we move.”No one questioned me. They were waiting for this order.“The objective is clear. No survivors except for Sarah. You see someone moving, you drop them. Fast. No game
MARCOI slid into the SUV, the door shutting with a heavy thud. The weight of it felt final, like the closing of a chapter. The engine rumbled beneath me as we pulled out, cutting through the quiet streets, heading straight for the Rossi base. The city passed by in a blur of lights and shadows, but I wasn’t looking. My mind wasn’t here. It was already ahead, in that warehouse, already seeing how this was going to play out.Hopefully, this was it.This war had dragged on too long. The back and forth, the blood, the bodies—enough. I was tired of the cycle, tired of waiting for the next move, tired of watching the Rossis breathe when they should’ve been six feet under. Tonight, that changed. No more counterattacks. No more back and forth. Just an end.I sighed, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it with one flick of my lighter. The first drag burned just right. My body knew what was coming, and the nicotine settled me just enough.I thought about Sarah.She was probably still sitting at t
MARCOThe chessboard was already set when I walked into the living room. Sarah sat across from my chair, arms crossed, a smug little smirk playing at her lips.“You’re late,” she said.I raised an eyebrow. “Late for what?”She nodded at the board. “For your loss.”I let out a short laugh, shaking my head as I took my seat. “That so?”“Mm-hm,” she hummed, moving a pawn forward. “I’ve been studying.”I glanced down at the board, already seeing how she had set up her pieces. She wasn’t playing like she normally did—impulsive, eager to attack before she had control. No, this time, she had structure. Her knights were placed well, her pawns controlling the center. It was actually… decent.I moved my own piece, slow, measured. “You know studying only gets you so far, right?”Sarah shrugged. “Says the man who’s about to lose.”I smirked, letting her have her confidence. She moved again, faster this time, her fingers light on the pieces. The game picked up, back and forth, each of us watching,
************The Rossi estate was quiet, but inside, the air was thick with frustration and failure. Damien stood near the fireplace, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, hands curled into fists at his sides. The ambush was supposed to end Marco. They had planned everything down to the second, every angle covered, every escape route cut off. And still, he survived. Their men weren’t just beaten. They were slaughtered. It was more than a loss. It was humiliation, and the weight of it sat heavy on Damien’s shoulders.Across the room, Isabella was pacing like a caged predator, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. The anger rolling off her was almost suffocating. She stopped suddenly, raking a hand through her dark hair, her breath coming in sharp bursts.“Unbelievable,” she spat, eyes burning as she turned toward Damien. “We had him. We fucking had him. And now look at us—sitting here like cowards while he reloads.” She took a step closer, voice slicing through the room. “
MARCOThe city blurred past me as I drove, headlights cutting through the darkness. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel, slow, steady. My pulse didn’t spike. My breathing didn’t change. But inside, something cold settled in my chest.They really tried to kill me. Again.And I wasn’t surprised. That was the thing. It didn’t shock me. It didn’t make me pause. This life, this war, it only ended one way. You either take out the enemy, or they take you out. No in-between. No second chances. And last night? They took their shot. Sarah had to pull the trigger to survive. My wife. My unborn kid in the middle of it. Because of them.The Rossis thought they could take something from me. They thought they could shake me. And maybe years ago, I would’ve given them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I would’ve given Damien Rossi a call, laid it out, given him a chance to fix it before I burned his whole fucking house down.But those days were gone.This wasn’t business anymore. It wasn’t neg
MARCO I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sarah sleep. The room was quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier after a night like last night. The gunfire, the chaos, the blood. It was all still sitting on my chest, but none of it weighed more than the fact that Sarah had pulled the trigger. That she had to. She wasn’t built for this. I knew that from the beginning. But life didn’t care what someone was built for. It threw them into the fire anyway. And now, she was in too deep. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. I didn’t like the way she looked even in sleep—tense, uneasy, like her body was still trying to fight off whatever threat it thought was coming next. I reached for my glass of water on the nightstand, taking a slow sip, keeping my eyes on her. Sarah shifted, her body stirring like she was fighting her way back to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then landing on me. “Morning,” I said, my voice quiet. She barely responded, j
MARCELI lifted the gun, aiming for the center of the target, steadying my breath as I pulled the trigger. The first shot hit, the second landed a little off, the third barely grazed where I wanted. I lowered the gun, exhaling slowly. Three out of five. That wasn’t good enough.I turned to the guard standing a few feet away. “Bring me the other model,” I said, shaking my head as I set the gun down. My aim wasn’t usually off. Maybe it was the drink in my hand. Maybe it was the news I hadn’t gotten yet but could feel coming.The guard nodded quickly and disappeared. I poured another glass, taking a slow sip, letting the liquor burn its way down. The air in the room was thick with smoke and gunpowder, a mix I usually found calming, but not tonight.Then the door creaked open. I didn’t turn. I knew hesitation when I heard it. Someone was about to tell me something I wouldn’t like.“Boss,” the man started, voice uneven. “There’s been… a situation.”I swirled my drink, watching the amber li
*********Damien sat in the corner of the safehouse office, dim light hanging above him, casting long shadows across the room. The drink in his hand did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside him. His jaw clenched as he stared at the blank wall ahead, fingers tightening around the glass. He could still hear the gunfire from earlier, see the chaos in his head like it was happening again. The plan was supposed to go clean, fast, efficient. Now, Marco had taken back control.He slammed the glass down on the table, sharp enough that the few men waiting outside the office flinched. He could hear them murmuring beyond the door, probably too scared to step in. He paced the room, every step heavy, every thought sharper than the next. How the hell did Marco’s people turn it around so fast? How did they know? How did this slip through the cracks?Finally, the door creaked open, and two of his men stepped inside, stiff like they were walking into a lion’s den.“Well?” Damien barked, crossing h
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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