SARAHI stared at her, confused and taken aback. “What do you mean, replacement for a ghost?” I managed to ask, my voice shaky.She smirked, taking a step closer to me. “Oh, you don’t know, do you?” She relished the moment, enjoying my discomfort. “Noelle was Marco’s… special friend, let’s say. She had everything—beauty, class, and sophistication. Everything you lack.”My heart pounded in my chest. I felt a mix of confusion and anger boiling up inside me. “Noelle? “Special friend?” I repeated, my voice trembling. “What are you talking about?”She chuckled, a cold, mocking sound. “You really are clueless, aren’t you? Noelle was the one who mattered, the one who—”“Isabella!” Marco’s voice cut through the air like a knife, sharp and unyielding.She spun around, her demeanor changing in an instant. She threw herself at Marco, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Marco, darling, I was just having a little chat with your… new addition,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness.Marco bar
The party dragged on, and I did my best to stay out of trouble. I found a quiet corner, keeping my head down and my eyes on the floor, making sure not to look in Daniel’s direction. I had already caused enough problems for myself tonight. The last thing I needed was Marco’s wrath extending to someone else. I stole a glance at Marco, but quickly looked away. His earlier threat of a new punishment played over and over in my head, an annoying thorn looming over my thoughts. What evil ideas does he have waiting for me this time? The very thought made my stomach churn, my mood souring with each passing minute that passed.Marcos people moved around me, mingling and laughing, their voices blending into a distant hum. It felt like I was in a bubble, separate from it all, the noise muffled by the weight of the anxiety I felt. I tried to focus on my tasks, refilling drinks and picking up empty glasses, anything to keep myself busy and out of Marcos sight. My hands worked fast, the routine mot
MARCO I sat in my study, the air thick with the remnants of the party. The soft glow of the desk lamp barely cut through the darkness, casting long shadows on the walls. I fumbled with the lighter, my fingers shaking as I tried to ignite the cigarette. The flame finally caught, and I took a deep drag, the smoke filling my lungs, slowly calming my racing mind. The party was supposed to be a clever ruse, a trap to draw out anyone from the Rossi family. Weeks of planning, careful invitations, and strategic conversations all leading up to tonight. I had hoped to see even a flicker of recognition, a fickle sign sign that one of them had taken the bait. But the night had been a complete disappointment. Not a single Rossi had shown their face. Not a single lead to follow, not a single crack in their facade. I sighed, the frustration boiling inside me. “Che disastro,” I muttered under my breath. This whole charade was starting to feel like a waste of time. As I exhaled a cloud of smoke
SARAH I stepped into the bathroom, the darkness wrapping aroundme as I tried to find the switch. I couldn’t see a thing, and in my rush, I stumbled, nearly losing my footing. “This night could not get any more annoying,” I hissed, catching myself on the sink. I fumbled for the light switch, finally flicking it on. The harsh light made me squint, but at least I could see now. I faced the sink and looked up at the mirror, my heart sinking at the sight before me. The woman staring back looked defeated, her eyes hollow and tired. I barely recognized myself. This wasn’t the life I wanted, and every day felt like a new kind of torture. I turned on the faucet and cupped my hands under the cold water, splashing it on my face. As I worked to remove the makeup, I couldn’t help but think about how much I hated this ritual. Makeup was such a drag. It felt like a mask I had to wear, hiding the real me underneath. And Marco, of course, insisted on it. He loved to control every aspect of my l
SARAH I sat on the desk as Marco instructed, my mind racing. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to find my voice, my words coming out in a shaky whisper. “Marco, I think you’re drunk. You don’t want to do this.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my neck. “Oh, I want this, Sarah,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “And you want it too. You know it.” I swallowed hard, trying to push down the conflicting emotions swirling inside me. Marco’s presence was overpowering, his hands gripping the desk on either side of me, trapping me in place. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity in his eyes. “I’m going to teach you a lot Sarah” he growled, his voice filled with possessive anger. “You need to learn who you belong to.” I tried to protest, to reason with him, but the words got stuck in my throat. My fear mixed with a strange, unwanted arousal, creating a confusing cocktail of emotions. I felt a tingle of anticipation and dread, my body betraying my m
SARAHMarco’s eyes bore into mine, a mixture of intensity and something I couldn’t quite place. He moved closer, his touch electric. I felt a shiver run down my spine as his fingers explored my skin. I wanted to resist, to push him away, but my body had other ideas. The wetness between my thighs was undeniable, and I hated myself for it.“This is just a one time thing,” I told myself, trying to maintain some form of control. “Just one time, and then it will never happen again.”Marco’s hand trailed down my side, his touch firm and possessive. He was in control, and he knew it. I bit my lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continued to edge me closer and closer to the brink.“Do you like this, Sarah?” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. “Tell me you like it.”I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me admit it. But my body betrayed me, a soft moan escaping my lips as he increased the pressure.“Stubborn as always,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his li
SARAHIt had been a week since Marco’s cruel stunt, and I did everything in my power to avoid him. Every time I heard his voice, a chill ran down my spine. I couldn’t even bear to look in his direction. Our last encounter was still painfully fresh in my mind, and the humiliation and anger I felt had not subsided.I had become an expert at timing my movements around the house. If I heard his footsteps coming down the hall, I found a reason to be somewhere else. If he entered a room, I made an excuse to leave. It was exhausting, but the alternative—facing him and risking another encounter like the last—was unbearable.“I can’t keep doing this,” I muttered to myself, trying to summon the courage to face him, but my resolve crumbled every time I thought of his mocking laughter. The memory of him edging me, leaving me on the brink, then walking away with that smirk on his face, still haunted me.I sat in the kitchen, pretending to read a magazine, but my mind was elsewhere. The maids bustl
SARAHI spent the next few days studying the guards’ patterns. Every moment was an opportunity to observe, to find the weak spots in their routines. I felt like I was going crazy, but I knew it was the only way out.Every morning, I positioned myself near a window with a clear view of the front gate. I noted the times they manned the gates, their shift changes, and when they seemed less vigilant. I had to be meticulous. I had to know every detail.“Alright, they switch shifts at 8 a.m.,” I muttered to myself, scribbling down notes. “The next shift comes at 4 p.m., and the night shift starts at midnight.” It felt like I was planning a heist, but instead of stealing something, I was trying to steal my freedom.I noticed that around noon., the guards gathered near the gate for a smoke break. They would chat and laugh, momentarily distracted. “This is good,” I thought. “A potential opening.” I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement.During meal times, the number of guards dec
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