MARCOTony was already pulling himself into the driver’s seat, wincing as his hand pressed against the bloody gash on his side. I hesitated, Sarah still limp in my arms, her face pale as death.“You sure you can drive?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “You got shot, Tony. You’re damn lucky it didn’t hit anything vital.”Tony threw me a grin through the rearview mirror, blood smeared across his teeth. “I’ve had worse. Just sit tight and keep her breathing, Marco. I’ll get us there.”“Don’t screw this up,” I growled, climbing into the back seat with Sarah cradled against me. I couldn’t risk leaving her side. Petrov climbed in next to me, clutching his arm where blood seeped through his shirt.Tony snorted, turning the key in the ignition. “You act like I haven’t driven half-dead before.”The tires screeched as we tore out of the lot, and I braced Sarah against me, trying to keep her steady. Her breathing was shallow, her face clammy, and every second that ticked by felt like
SARAHThe silence between us was deafening. Marco sat by my bedside, his eyes locked on mine, unwavering, as if daring me to fall apart again. I didn’t know what to say—or maybe I was too afraid to say anything at all. Every time I tried to open my mouth, the words felt stuck, like they’d betray me. I shifted slightly, wincing as the IV tugged at my arm. Marco noticed instantly, his brows furrowing.“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” His voice was softer than I expected, almost too careful, like I might shatter under its weight.I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine, Marco. Really.”He didn’t believe me. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, his eyes scanning every inch of me as if he could find the lie in my words.The silence stretched on, and it started to feel unbearable. I hated how quiet he was, how quiet I was. It wasn’t like us. Normally, Marco would be barking orders, teasing me, or finding some way to make light of the situation, and I’d be throwing som
MARCOThe doctor motioned for me to follow him into a smaller, sterile-looking room down the hallway. I walked in without hesitation, though my body was screaming for a break. Every step felt like dragging a dead weight. My clothes clung to me, sticky with dried blood and sweat, and the sharp stings of my wounds were becoming impossible to ignore. But showing weakness? That wasn’t an option—not here, not now.“Take a seat,” the doctor said, nodding toward the examination table as he pulled on a pair of gloves. His voice was calm, unnervingly so, like he wasn’t staring at someone who looked like they’d walked out of a warzone.I sat down stiffly, rolling up my sleeves with deliberate movements. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the faint antiseptic scent of the room, making my head swim for a moment.The doctor began gathering supplies from a nearby tray, humming under his breath as though this was just another routine check-up. He grabbed a swab and turned toward me. “Let’s start
MARCOThe nurse stepped in front of me as I tried to enter Sarah’s room. Her face was calm but unyielding, and I could tell this wasn’t her first time dealing with someone on the verge of losing it.“Sir, you can’t come in here,” she said, her voice firm but polite.“Move,” I barked, my chest heaving. My eyes were fixed on Sarah lying there, pale and lifeless, with wires hooked up to her like she was some machine. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack a rib.“Sir, I need you to step back,” she repeated, her tone sharper now. “You’re only going to get in the way.”I clenched my fists, my body halfway through the doorway. “Get in the way? That’s my wife in there! She’s unconscious, and you want me to just stand out here doing nothing?”“Sir!” The doctor’s voice cut through the tension. He strode toward me, peeling off his gloves as he approached. His face was calm, like nothing fazed him, but there was an edge of authority in his tone. “You need to stay outside.”“Sh
MARCOI followed the doctor down the hallway, my mind spinning like a carousel of worst-case scenarios. Every step felt heavier than the last. My gut churned, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead felt like a dull roar in my ears. What did he need to tell me in private? If Sarah was stable, why couldn’t he just say it in the waiting room?The idea that something worse might be going on clawed at my brain. I couldn’t stop the flood of possibilities. What if her condition had suddenly deteriorated? What if they’d missed something? What if she wasn’t actually stable?The doctor didn’t say a word as we walked, and that silence only made it worse. I was on the edge of asking him to just spit it out, but the look on his face—calm but serious—kept me from speaking. He stopped in front of a door, opening it and motioning for me to step inside.The room was small, standard, with a desk, two chairs, and shelves lined with books and folders. The kind of place where conversations you d
SARAHIt had been a few days since I learned the news, yet it still felt surreal. Pregnant… I was pregnant—with Marco’s child. The words felt strange, even in my own mind, like they belonged to someone else. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would they look like him? Strong jawline, sharp eyes, and that commanding presence that made people stop and listen? Or would they take after me—quieter features, softer edges, and a personality that blended in rather than demanded attention?The thought made me smile for a moment, but it didn’t last long. My chest tightened. Marco. My joy was tied to him, and that wasn’t exactly comforting. He was overwhelming—controlling, even. Sometimes, he was impossible to predict. But then again, he was also passionate, fiercely protective. Could I trust him to be all those things for our child? Or would his darker side, the one I’d seen far too often, cast a shadow over our family?I let out a long breath, rub
SARAHMarco hovered like a mother hen, his hand never straying far from the small of my back as we walked down the hospital hallway toward the lobby. His other hand lingered near my arm, ready to steady me even though I was perfectly capable of walking on my own.“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice lined with what I could only describe as exaggerated concern.I bit back a smile, trying not to let his overprotectiveness get to me. “I’m fine, Marco. You don’t have to keep asking.”“I do,” he replied without missing a beat. “You might not realize it, but this is a big deal. I’m not taking any chances.”I sighed, shaking my head slightly. “I’m pregnant, Marco, not dying. You need to chill.”He ignored me, his hand gently pressing against my back to guide me toward a nearby chair as we reached the lobby. “Sit down for a minute,” he said, his tone firm but still laced with that same overbearing concern.I gave him a look but complied, easing into the chair. “Happy now?”“Getting ther
SARAHMarco guided me through the front door, his hand steady on the small of my back. I paused just inside, looking around. The house felt familiar, yet somehow foreign. It was strange—like stepping into a dream you couldn’t quite remember. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was because so much had happened since I was last here.Marco must have noticed the way I lingered, my eyes scanning the space like I was trying to recognize it. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, leaning closer. “Does it feel different?”I nodded slowly. “A little. It’s like… I’ve been gone for years instead of weeks.”He smiled at that, his hand brushing against mine. “Well, you’re home now,” he said firmly. “And I’m going to make sure it feels like home again.”As we moved further inside, the staff was already lined up in the grand hallway, their faces lighting up when they saw us. The maids, the guards, even the cook—they were all there. It was almost overwhelming.Marco stepped f
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,
AISHAI stood in front of the mirror, my heart hammering against my ribs. My hands hovered over the rack of dresses I had laid out, my fingers brushing over each fabric as I tried to decide. This had to be perfect—tonight had to be perfect. Or at least, it had to look perfect.I swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as I reached for a sleek black dress. It was tight, hugging every curve, the neckline plunging just enough to be enticing but not desperate. I needed Marco to look at me. I needed him to want me—just enough for the camera to capture it.I tugged the dress on, smoothing it over my hips, my stomach twisting in knots. Could I even pull this off? Could I really do this?You have to.I grabbed my makeup brush, dusting powder across my face as I stared at my own reflection. My eyes looked too wide, my lips too tight. I needed to calm down. But how could I? This wasn’t just some party—I was setting a trap.A dangerous one.I reached for my lipstick, twisting it up with shaky fingers.