SARAHWhen we arrived at the party, the first thing I noticed was the elegant atmosphere. The grand ballroom was adorned with glittering chandeliers, and the guests, all dressed in their finest attire, moved gracefully across the floor. The theme of the night was a masquerade, and as we walked in, a server handed us both ornate masks.I looked at my mask, a delicate creation with silver and blue feathers. I slipped it on, feeling a little more hidden, a little safer behind its cover. Marco’s mask was black and gold, giving him an even more intimidating presence.As we walked further into the party, I took in the scenery. The room was filled with opulence—rich, dark wood paneling, plush velvet drapes, and tables set with elaborate centerpieces. The music, a soft classical piece, added to the air of sophistication.Marco’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. The possessiveness of the gesture made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to keep a neutral expression. He glan
SARAHAs I danced with the man, I kept glancing over his shoulder, trying to catch Marco’s eye. Each time I thought of Marco watching, a thrill ran through me. This was my way of getting back at him, of showing him that he couldn’t control me.The man I was dancing with was handsome and charming, but I barely registered his features. My mind was fixed on Marco. The music slowed down, shifting to a soft, romantic tune. My partner took this as a cue to pull me closer.“Come closer,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting.I cringed inwardly at the idea, but I steeled myself. I was determined to see this through. “Of course,” I said, moving closer to him, feeling his hands settle on my waist.I could just hope that Marco’s gaze was burning into us from across the room. I leaned into my partner, resting my head against his shoulder. It felt awkward, but I pushed through the discomfort, focusing on my goal. This was for Marco to see, to make him realize that I was not just a pawn in his ga
SARAHI couldn't believe what I had just heard. My heart raced, and I took a step back, glaring at Cain. "Don't you dare come any closer," I warned, my voice trembling slightly.He took a step forward, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "What are you going to do, Sarah?" he taunted. "Scream?"I kept moving back, my eyes darting around the room for any possible escape route. "Stay away from me, Cain," I demanded, my voice firmer this time.But he didn't stop. He kept moving closer and closer, his eyes darkening with every step. My back hit the wall, and I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin. "I will scream if you take one more step," I threatened, my voice rising in desperation.Cain laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the walls. "Go ahead and scream," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "No one can hear you anyway."I could feel the panic rising in my chest, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Stay back," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I'm warning you."But
SARAHAs we walked out of the room, Marco’s arm firmly around my shoulders, we were suddenly confronted by Mr. Lemuel. He looked frantic and concerned, his eyes darting between Marco and me.“Marco please, I am so sorry about what happened. I promise you, I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Mr. Lemuel said, his voice trembling with genuine regret.Marco waved him off, his expression calm but firm. “It’s not your fault, Lemuel. There’s no need to apologize. But we’re leaving.”Lemuel looked desperate to make amends. “Please, Marco, stay a little longer. We can sort this out. You’re a valued guest, and I want to ensure your evening ends on a better note.”Marco shook his head. “No, really. Everything’s fine, but we must leave now.”Lemuel’s eyes pleaded with us to stay. “I understand your frustration, but please, Marco, give me a chance to make this right. Let me offer you some refreshments, perhaps a quiet place to relax. The night doesn’t have to end like this.”Marco’s grip on my should
SARAHAs we walked to the café, I was still trying to wrap my head around Marco’s sudden kindness. The outside of the café looked modest, but as soon as we stepped inside, I was pleasantly surprised. The interior was warm and inviting, with soft lighting and cozy seating.A waiter approached us almost immediately. “Good evening,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m John. Welcome to our café. Do you have a reservation?”Marco shook his head. “No, we don’t.”John’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m sorry, but we usually require reservations. It helps us manage our space better. I recommend you come back another time with a booking.”I felt a pang of disappointment. It was a small thing, but after everything tonight, I had hoped for this small comfort. Marco noticed my expression and turned back to John.“Look, we’ve had a really rough night. Is there any way you can fit us in? We won’t take long, just a quick coffee to unwind,” Marco said, his voice firm but polite.John barely acknowledged M
SARAHI stood there, still trying to process what Marco had just said. “You bought the café?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.Marco grinned, clearly enjoying my shock. “Yep, gave the manager an offer he couldn’t refuse,” he said, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. “Come on, take a seat.”I hesitated for a moment but then slowly sank into the chair, my mind racing. “An offer he couldn’t refuse? Marco, what did you do?”He leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I told him I’d buy the place for double its worth on the condition that we get immediate service and I can change whatever I want.”I blinked, trying to wrap my head around it. “Double its worth? That’s insane.”Marco shrugged nonchalantly. “Sometimes you have to make bold moves. Besides, it’s not just about the money. It’s about respect and making sure we’re treated right.”Before I could respond, John, the waiter, stepped forward, a look of determination on his face. “I’ve tried to be nice, but si
SARAHI was still trying to wrap my head around what Marco had just done. He had walked into the manager’s office and walked out with a smile, declaring he’d bought the café. Part of me was skeptical, wondering if this sudden kindness would come with some sort of backlash when we got home. Was this just another way to control me, to keep me under his thumb? Or was it possible that he genuinely wanted to make things better?As I sat there, more relaxed now, I started to appreciate the beauty of the café. The warm lighting, the cozy seating, and the soft hum of conversation created an inviting atmosphere. I looked around, my eyes landing on a couple playing with their little daughter at a nearby table. They seemed so happy, their laughter light and carefree.“Daddy, catch me!” the little girl squealed as she darted around the table, her tiny feet padding softly on the floor.Her father chuckled, pretending to reach for her but missing on purpose. “Oh no, she’s too fast for me!” he excla
SARAHI couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Marco had actually shown care, and it was throwing me off. My mind kept replaying the moment our hands touched. It was weirdly intimate, and it made me shy to look up at him.I poked at my meal, trying to focus on the food. Marco broke the silence, his voice warm. “So, do you love the meal?”I looked up quickly, trying to clear my head. “Yeah, it’s really good. Thanks for picking it out.”He smiled and leaned back, looking more relaxed. “You know, this place used to be one of my favorites. My grandma used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.”I blinked, surprised. “Really? I didn’t know you had such good memories of this place.”“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “She always said their risotto was the best. We’d come here for special occasions, and she’d make a big deal about the food. I loved it.”He laughed softly, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “She was really into food. We’d have these long dinners where she’d tell stor
MARCOI sat back in my office, the glass swirling slow in my hand. The whiskey tasted bitter tonight — or maybe it was just me. The window stretched wide in front of me, showing the whole city flickering under the night. New York always looked peaceful from up here… but I knew better.The whole place was a ticking bomb.I watched the headlights crawling along the streets, the faint horns echoing through the night. Somewhere down there… someone was dying. Someone was making money. Someone was getting betrayed.This city doesn’t sleep.I let out a slow breath, tapping my finger against the rim of the glass. My chest felt heavier with every second ticking by. Tonight was going to change everything — one way or the other.I wasn’t scared.I’ve been in worse situations. Buried men with my own hands. Watched bodies bleed out inches away from me. I’ve done shit that still wakes me up at night.But tonight… it was different.Aisha.Her name had been drilling through my skull ever since Tony m
MARCONight had swallowed the city whole. The air hung thick, heavy with something I hadn’t felt in a long time. That familiar tension before a job. The kind that made your blood move slower… made every second feel like it was stretching out.I stood in the armory, loading rounds into a Glock magazine, one click at a time. Tony was by the table, checking the sights on an SMG. Petrov leaned against the wall, spinning a knife between his fingers like he was playing with a toothpick.Petrov smirked.“Been a while since we went on a night like this.” He flipped the knife once, catching it clean. “Not since we took out Danzo.”I glanced up at him, the name stirring up old memories I buried deep. “Danzo…”I sighed, sliding the mag into the Glock with a cold snap.“Yeah… I wish the peace had lasted.”Tony looked up from the SMG, his face tired.“We all do.”The room fell quiet for a second. None of us were built for peace, but we learned how to live in it. Now… that was all gone.Petrov brok
MARCOMartha set the tray down gently on the dining table, arranging the cutlery without making a sound. The smell of fresh eggs and coffee filled the room, but I barely noticed.Three days.Three days since I set the plan into motion — putting Tony and Petrov out on the streets to flush Aisha out and hit back on every bastard who thought I was finished. Three days since I decided to stop sitting back and waiting for the walls to close in.The house had been quiet ever since.Too quiet.I picked up the fork, forcing myself to eat. The food tasted like nothing, but I kept chewing, bite after bite. I needed the strength. The plan had to work.Failure wasn’t an option.Martha lingered by the corner, wiping her hands on her apron. I caught her watching me from the corner of my eye, but she quickly looked away when I glanced up.I cleared my throat, cutting through the silence.“How’s Sarah?”Martha straightened up, clasping her hands in front of her.“She’s been eating better, sir. I made
MARCOThe evening was dragging — slow, heavy.The sun had dipped behind the skyline, leaving streaks of orange bleeding into the sky, but I was still here, trapped between four walls, waiting for the city to get darker before I moved.The vultures were still outside, media dogs camping at the gates like they were waiting to see me buried. The last thing I needed was another fucking scene. Not after the one I gave them earlier.Tony sat across from me, arms folded, eyes fixed on the glass of whiskey he’d barely touched. The whole room felt like it was holding its breath — silent, thick with smoke and tension.I leaned back in my chair, cigarette between my fingers, eyes pinned to the ceiling as I exhaled slowly.The door knocked twice.Sharp. Precise.Tony’s head turned, then the door cracked open. Petrov stepped in — tall, broad, cold-eyed like always.His heavy boots echoed against the marble floors as he shut the door behind him.The mood in the office shifted instantly — darker, he
CHAPTER 263MARCOTony stepped in, shutting the door quietly behind him. His eyes swept across the office, taking in the mess — broken glass scattered by the window, papers tossed across the desk, the whiskey bottle half-empty and lying on its side. The air was thick — like the whole room had been swallowing smoke for hours.He let out a low whistle under his breath.“Jesus…” His eyes flicked back to me. “Place looks like a fucking crime scene.”I didn’t respond. I just leaned further into the chair, fingers pressing into my temples, trying to push the pounding headache out of my skull.I felt Tony’s eyes lingering on me — sizing me up like he was trying to figure out just how bad the damage was.His voice dropped lower.“Boss… you okay?”I let out a slow breath, eyes still shut.“Do I look like I’m fucking okay, Tony?”He didn’t answer — because he knew there was no point.He knew I’d talk when I was ready, knew better than to push me when I was on edge like this.The room stretched
MARCO I walked out of the house, the sun already hitting hard against my face like it had a personal vendetta against me. The guards stood stiff by the gates, their faces blank — the same faces I’d been seeing every fucking day while my life burned down to ashes behind these walls. I was certain they didn’t see me. Not really. I could be bleeding out in front of them and they’d still stand there like statues, pretending they didn’t notice how I was breaking apart piece by piece. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to bury the shaking in my fingers. “Get the car ready… the one with tinted windows.” The guard barely nodded before rushing off. None of them would even meet my eyes. Probably because they believed the headlines too — believed I was just another De Luca bastard who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I stood there waiting, the heat pressing down on my skin, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the weight — the fucking pressure of everything closi
MARCOThe sound of my phone vibrating against the nightstand pulled me out of sleep. I groaned, rubbing my face as the buzzing continued, relentless. I blinked against the dim light in the room, reaching blindly for the phone. My fingers finally wrapped around it, and I lifted it to my face. The screen was flooded with notifications—calls, emails, and text messages, all demanding my attention.I sighed, unlocking the phone. The first few messages were from business associates, men who had stood by me when everything was stable, when my name was untouchable. Now, they all wanted answers.Giovanni Fabbri: Marco, what the hell is happening? Investors are pulling out. We need a statement ASAP.Emilio Rizzo: This scandal is making waves in the wrong places. The board is restless. Call me.Colonel Bianchi: The media pressure is mounting. This is dangerous. Handle it before it gets worse.Valentino Russo: The stock is plummeting. Your silence is making things worse. Damage control. Now.I cl
DAMIEN I watched Isabella walk away, her head high, her steps firm, like she hadn’t just refused me for the hundredth time. I smirked, shaking my head as I leaned back against the couch, swirling the drink in my hand.Persistent. That’s what she was. A woman who knew what she wanted—or at least thought she did. Most women melted the moment I so much as looked at them. But Isabella? She resisted, turned me down like I was some desperate bastard begging for a scrap of attention. It was almost amusing.Almost.Because at the end of the day, she was still mine to have. Whether she liked it or not.I took a slow sip of my drink, my mind still turning over the interaction. She wanted control, that was clear. She thought saying no to me gave her power, that it kept her in charge of the situation. But I knew women like her. They built walls, thinking they were protecting themselves, not realizing they were only making the chase more interesting. Sooner or later, those walls would crack, and
ISABELLADamien had been many things tonight—reckless, arrogant, infuriatingly smug—but careless? No. Never careless.And yet, I had heard it. That name. Marcel.For a second, I thought I misheard. But no. I knew exactly what I heard. And it made my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol in the air or the heavy bass of the music.Because I knew Marcel. He drove me to the Rossis.And if it was the same Marcel I was thinking of, Damien had no idea what kind of fire he was playing with.My mind reeled, trying to connect the pieces. It had been weeks since I last heard that name in any relevant conversation—so long since I managed to claw my way out of the hell that working for him had been. Marcel wasn’t just some name on a contact list. He wasn’t just another criminal running underground deals or laundering dirty money through respectable businesses. He was a different breed entirely. The kind of man who didn’t just play the game—he controlled it. And he didn’t t