SARAHI sat there on the couch, watching the TV screen flicker with the latest episode of a show I’d started binging. Honestly, this series had become one of the few things keeping me entertained lately. With all the craziness going on outside, it was nice to escape into someone else’s drama for a change, even if it was fictional. The lead character was right in the middle of a heated argument, her face scrunched up in anger, and I couldn’t help but smirk at how intense it all was. At least her problems could be solved by the end of an episode.Mine? Not so much.I sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions, taking comfort in the familiar chaos of the show. It was weird, you know? I used to have a lot more going on. Parties, dinners, trips. But now? I might as well just enjoy this little slice of distraction. The maids had already left for the night, and the guards, well… they’d been patrolling the house like hawks for days now. I couldn’t really ignore how tense everything had become.
SARAHI hesitated at the door to Marco’s office, my hand resting on the cold brass handle. My heart raced with uncertainty. What could have possibly made him yell my name like that? It was so unlike him. I thought of all the possible scenarios, but none of them felt right.I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.There he was, standing by the window, his back to me. The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. Marco didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around. He just stood there in silence, his posture stiff, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.I stepped into the room, my feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. “Marco?” My voice came out softer than I intended, shaky even. “Why did you call me?”He didn’t answer.I waited a moment, then asked again, a little firmer this time. “Marco, what’s going on?”He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder. His face was hard, unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark
MARCOAs soon as Sarah slammed the door behind her, the silence hit me like a wave. I stood frozen in the room, my mind racing. What the hell had I just done?I felt the heat rise in my face, my chest tightening as anger burned inside me, but this time it wasn’t aimed at anyone else. It was all on me.You’re a fool, Marco. I thought, pacing back and forth, raking my hands through my hair. You stupid, stupid fool.I wanted to scream, punch something, make it all go away, but nothing would fix what I had just done. Sarah had looked at me like I was a stranger. No, worse—like I was a monster. And maybe I was. I had slapped her. The woman who had done nothing but love me, who had stood by me when everything else was falling apart. And I had hit her.“What the hell is wrong with you?” I muttered to myself, my voice thick with self-loathing. I stopped in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. The man looking back at me wasn’t the man Sarah had grown to fall in love with. He was cold
SARAHI folded the last of the clothes, smoothing out the creases as I placed it neatly on the bed. The room was quiet, too quiet, and I could feel the thoughts creeping in again. No matter how much I tried to keep myself busy, to find something—anything—to focus on, my mind kept circling back to Marco. To everything he had done. To everything he was.I shook my head, mocking myself for even allowing the thought that he might change to settle in my mind. What a joke, I thought bitterly, how stupid was I to believe that there was any chance of him becoming a better person?I couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped my lips. After everything he’d put me through, how could I have been so naive? I had let myself fall into this trap, let myself see something in him that wasn’t there. Maybe it was the few good moments, the small gestures that made me believe for just a second that he might be capable of change. But deep down, I knew better.I should’ve known better.I remembered the beginning,
SARAHI stood there, my hand gripping the doorknob tighter than necessary as Marco and I locked eyes. I could feel my heart racing, the tension thick in the air between us. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not after what he’d done, what he’d said. But now, standing in front of me, he seemed…different. His usual coldness wasn’t there, and for a moment, I couldn’t place what I was seeing in his eyes.I tried to remind myself why I was mad, why I was hurt. But the longer I stood there, the more difficult it became to keep that fire of anger alive. My chest tightened, and I wanted so badly to look at him with the same hatred I’d felt earlier. But as much as I wanted to hold onto my anger, it slipped through my fingers. It was like my emotions were betraying me, softening when they shouldn’t. I could still feel the sting of his words, of his actions, but something in me faltered.We were just standing there, staring at each other, neither of us moving, neither of us saying any
SARAHAs Marco pulled away from the kiss, I felt frozen in place, my heart still racing. I didn’t expect it to feel like that, to be that… intense. His eyes locked on mine, and for a second, I felt like I could drown in them. My heart was still craving more, wanting the moment to last longer, but just as quickly as it happened, he stood up, creating an uncomfortable distance between us.“I’ve been caught up in a lot lately,” Marco started, running a hand through his hair. His tone was softer, like he was trying to figure out how to say something without making things worse. I stayed silent, unsure of what to expect next.“We need a break,” he added, almost as if he were stating a fact, not making a suggestion.A break? My mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Was this his way of saying we needed space? Had everything that just happened meant nothing to him? The whirlwind of emotions I’d just gone through came crashing down at his words, and I couldn’t help but feel confuse
MARCOSitting across from Carlos and Tony, I absently moved one of my pieces on the chessboard, half-listening as they rambled about the latest bars and clubs they’d been frequenting. It was the same old talk—places I hadn’t been to in ages. I wasn’t interested in all that anymore. There was always something more important to focus on.Carlos, always the loudest of the three of us, leaned forward, trying to get my attention. “You’re really missing out, Marco. You remember those nights? The drinks, the women, the music! Man, we used to own every spot we walked into.”I waved him off with a small laugh. “Those days are behind me, Carlos. I’ll pass. I’ve got more important things to deal with.”Tony cut in, smirking as he moved his rook across the board. “Of course, you’d turn it down. You’re always buried in work these days, Marco. But seriously, you gotta cut loose sometime. You don’t wanna be that guy who only works and forgets how to live.”I watched as Tony’s knight threatened one o
SARAHAs I stepped out of the shower, the steam clung to the mirror, blurring my reflection. I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my body before reaching for the lotion and moisturizer. The routine of applying these things was almost mindless, but today, I found myself pausing more than once, replaying Marco’s words in my head. “Get ready, we’ll be leaving in the afternoon,” he had said, as if this was just another day, as if this was normal for us. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it—Marco, taking me on a vacation?I shook my head, rubbing the lotion into my skin as I glanced at my reflection. My hair was still wet, clinging to my shoulders as I tried to piece together how this was going to play out. Was this really happening? Was Marco actually… trying?The last few days had been a whirlwind. One minute, we were barely speaking, and the next, he’s apologizing for everything and booking a trip. A tiny part of me hoped this was real, that maybe Marco was changing, but I couldn’t
ISABELLAThe bass pounded through the club, the kind of heavy, pulsing beat that made people forget who they were for a few hours. Bodies pressed together, the air thick with sweat, liquor, and bad decisions waiting to happen.I sat back in my booth, one leg crossed over the other, my drink swirling in my hand as I watched the chaos from a comfortable distance. This was a place where people lost themselves.But I wasn’t here to lose anything. I was here to gain.Aisha.Marco’s secretary. His loyal employee. His trusted little confidante.And my personal rat.His trusted little worker bee. The one with access to his files, his schedules, his secrets.And the one who had been feeding me just enough information to keep her bank account happy.The things people did for money. It never failed to amuse me.Just as I lifted my drink to my lips, my phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up, bringing it to my ear without much interest.“Who’s this?” I asked lazily, even though I already knew.
SARAHI sat in the living room, my fingers working the knitting needles in a slow, steady rhythm. The yarn twisted and looped, but my mind wasn’t in it. It was supposed to help me relax, to keep my hands busy, to distract me. But tonight, it wasn’t doing anything.The unease in my chest had settled there hours ago, and no matter how much I tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t go away.Something was wrong.I didn’t know how, I didn’t know why, but I could feel it.Marco had been different lately. Not in an obvious, loud way. No, it was the kind of change that someone else might not notice. But I did. I noticed everything about him.The silence. The way his stares lingered a little too long on nothing. The way he checked his phone constantly, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff. I wasn’t sure he even realized he was doing it. Marco wasn’t the type to fidget, but lately, he’d been on edge in a way that didn’t sit right with me.And then there was that phone call.That night, I had woken up to
MARCOI lit a cigarette, letting the bitter taste settle on my tongue, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. The office was too quiet, just the faint hum of the AC and the soft scratch of the papers I’d tossed aside. But my eyes kept drifting back to those damn records, like they were mocking me from the corner of the desk.I took a deep drag and leaned back in my chair, trying to shake off the tension coiled in my chest. The numbers didn’t lie. But the problem was, I didn’t have the answers yet. That’s what got under my skin the most—not knowing.I shifted in my seat, finding a comfortable spot, my body sinking deeper into the leather. My eyes felt heavy, the stress weighing me down more than I realized. I stared at the ceiling, the smoke blending with the shadows, and before I knew it, my mind drifted somewhere else. Somewhere softer.I saw her. My baby. I hoped Sarah woould give me a girl. Laughing, her little hands reaching for me, her smile brighter than the sun outside. She w
MARCOThe office was dead quiet, the kind of silence that made the tick of the clock on the wall sound like a drumbeat. The only other noise was the rustle of papers as I ran through the pile on my desk. Contracts, invoices, shipment logs—it was all the usual shit. Stuff I could practically do in my sleep by now. I signed off on the weapon shipments first, making sure the docks were clear for the incoming load from Eastern Europe. Then I moved to the laundering reports, checking the cash flow through our fronts—clubs, restaurants, real estate. Everything seemed to be running like clockwork.But my mind wasn’t in it.Petrov’s last words from that call still echoed in my head. He’d been vague—too vague for my liking. The whole thing about “unexpected shifts” and “watch your back.” It wasn’t like him to be cryptic. Petrov didn’t deal in riddles, and the fact that he was suddenly choosing his words carefully had me on edge. I didn’t want to overthink it, but I couldn’t help it. I had Sara
MARCOThe tires crunched against the gravel as I pulled into the office building’s lot, the usual buzz of early morning activity humming in the background. But none of it registered. My mind was still stuck on Petrov’s call, his words looping over and over like they were burned into my skull.“There’s a leak, Marco. Someone close. Watch your back.”I killed the engine, staring out the windshield for a moment longer before stepping out of the car. The cool morning air hit my face, but it didn’t do a damn thing to shake off the heaviness sitting on my chest. I grabbed my suitcase from the backseat, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. The sound echoed in the parking lot, but I barely noticed.As I walked toward the building, a few of the guys outside greeted me—nods, quick “Mornin’, boss,” the usual routine—but I didn’t even glance their way. Their voices were just background noise, fading into the mess of thoughts swirling in my head. My focus was shot to hell, and that wasn’t
SARAHI woke up to the soft glow of morning creeping in through the curtains, but it didn’t bring that warmth it usually did. Instead, it felt like the light was highlighting everything I was trying not to think about. My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, tracing the small imperfections in the plaster, anything to distract myself from the nagging feeling in my chest.Marco’s steady breathing beside me was usually comforting, but today, it felt like a reminder of everything I wasn’t sure about anymore. The words I overheard last night played on a loop in my mind, each time pulling tighter at the anxiety twisting in my stomach.“We can’t be too careful. Someone’s leaking information from the inside.”He hadn’t seen me standing there, tucked just out of sight by the hallway wall, listening to the clipped edge in his voice as he spoke to his worker. The tension in his tone, the sharpness in his words—it wasn’t just business. It was something more, something dangerous. And no matter how mu
SARAHThe soft scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of Marco’s cologne as he stood beside me, sleeves rolled up, paintbrush in hand. The nursery was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows on the walls we were trying to turn into something perfect—something safe.Marco dipped his brush into the pale blue paint, then paused, tilting his head. “I still think we should’ve gone with the sage green,” he said, his tone light but his brow slightly furrowed, like this was a high-stakes decision.I chuckled, standing back to look at the wall. “You’re only saying that because you think blue is cliché.”“Well, it is.” He gave me a playful smirk, one that made my heart do that stupid little flip, the same way it had since the day I fell for him. Dangerous. Beautiful. Mine.I picked up my own brush, swiping a bold streak of blue across the wall. “Too late now. Besides, it’s soft. Calming.”Marco raised an eyebrow, stepping closer.
ISABELLADamien’s eyes lingered on me, sharp and calculating. For a man who prided himself on control, I could see the faint cracks in his composure, the unease that flickered just beneath his confident exterior.“You’re serious,” he said finally, leaning forward. His voice was low, skeptical, but there was a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe, or intrigue.I gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I don’t make empty promises, Damien. If you let me take the lead on this, Marco won’t just lose. He’ll crumble.”He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he studied me. His gaze was piercing, searching for any signs of weakness or deception, but I didn’t flinch.After what felt like an eternity, he nodded once, a sharp, deliberate motion. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll give you a chance. But understand this, Isabella: if you screw this up, there won’t be a second chance.”“I wouldn’t expect one,” I replied smoothly, my tone steady.For a moment, silence stretc
ISABELLAI adjusted myself in the seat, ready to speak, but before a single word left my lips, Damien raised a hand and cut me off with a smirk that could curdle milk.“Before you get started, Miss Isabella,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the desk, “I should let you know I don’t have much patience for loud women.”The words hit like a slap, but I held my ground, masking my irritation.“And,” he continued, his tone smooth but laced with condescension, “it’s a little difficult to believe that a woman—a woman, mind you—is going to be the one to hand me victory over Marco De Luca.”He smiled then, a crude twist of his lips that made something in my stomach churn. He didn’t even try to hide his amusement at his own words, the arrogance rolling off him like smoke.I felt my shoulders stiffen, the sting of his insult sharpening my focus. For a second, I wanted to walk out, but I wasn’t about to let someone like Damien Rossi make me second-guess myself.Instead, I s