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
SARAHThe waitress came back, carrying a bottle of vintage port and two glasses. She set them down with a polite smile and asked, “Shall I pour for you?”Marco shook his head. “No, we’ve got this. Thank you, though.”The waitress gave a slight nod. “Very well. If you need anything else, just let me know.”Marco turned his attention back to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “You ready for this?”I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and resolve. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”He chuckled, picking up the bottle. “Alright then. Here goes.”As he began to pour the wine, I glanced at the waitress, who was still hovering nearby. She seemed curious about our exchange, her eyes darting between us.“Looks like you’ve got an audience,” I said to Marco, tilting my head towards the waitress.Marco looked over and grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”The waitress smiled again, a bit more genuinely this time. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, finally turning to leave.Marco poured the rich, dark wine into
SARAHI woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. Groaning, I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright light filtering through the curtains. It took a moment for my vision to clear, and when it did, I realized I was in my room. But how did I get here?Panic bubbled up as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. I sat up slowly, my head throbbing with every movement. I looked around, searching for any clues that might explain how I ended up here.The last thing I remembered was being at the café with Marco, the bet, and the wine. But everything after that was a blur. I couldn’t recall how I got from the café to my bed.“Marco?” I called out, my voice hoarse. There was no response. “Marco?”I waited, but the silence was deafening. Yelling made my headache worse, so I decided to calm down and think. I took a deep breath and tried to focus.That’s when I noticed my clothes. I was wearing something different from wha
MARCOI sat in my study, the morning light filtering through the large windows, casting shadows across the room. The newspaper lay on my desk, and I picked it up, skimming through the headlines. It was the usual mix of political drama, business failures, and celebrity scandals. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a few well-placed threats or a strategic buyout.“Idiots,” I muttered, shaking my head at the ineptitude of the so-called leaders in this city. They always managed to screw things up, no matter how easy the solution seemed. Setting the paper down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath. The world outside might be chaotic, but in here, I controlled everything. Or at least, I liked to think I did.But then my thoughts drifted, and I found myself thinking about Sarah again. More specifically, about that bastard Cain, the one who had dared to lay a hand on her at Lemuel’s party. The thought of it made my blood boil. I could still see th
MARCOI narrowed my eyes, taking a step closer to Cain. His words replayed in my mind, over and over, like a broken record. Marcel. I couldn’t afford to take this lightly.“Where did you hear that name?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. I needed to know if this scum had any real connection to Marcel or if he was just trying to save his own skin.Cain’s eyes darted around the room, wild with desperation. “Everyone in the dark side of society knows the name Marcel,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “But I… I can lead you to him. Just… please, spare my life.”For a moment, I said nothing, weighing his words carefully. Then I signaled to Tony to put his gun away. The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I turned to Tony and Carlos, searching their faces for any sign of what they thought.“What do you think?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Is he bluffing?”Carlos didn’t hesitate. “He could be faking it, boss. Trying to buy himself time. For all we kno
SARAHMartha had already started trimming the hedges when I joined her in the garden. The sun was warm, not too harsh, and a light breeze made the leaves dance gently around us. I watched her for a moment, admiring the precision of her work. But there was something about just sitting around doing nothing that drove me insane, especially lately. I needed to keep my hands busy, to feel like I was contributing something, anything, to this place.“Martha,” I called out, walking over to her. “Let me help you with that.”She looked up, startled, and immediately shook her head. “Oh no, Miss Sarah. Please, you shouldn’t trouble yourself with this. It’s my job. I can handle it.”I smiled, trying to reassure her. “I know it’s your job, but I’m bored out of my mind. I need something to do, and helping you here seems like a good way to pass the time.”Martha’s eyes widened in alarm, and she stepped in front of the hedge clippers as if to guard them from me. “No, Miss Sarah. I couldn’t possibly al
MARCOThe city lights blurred through the tinted windows as we cruised down the highway. The engine hummed low, steady. Nobody was talking much, just the faint sound of the radio playing some old blues song under the noise of the tires slicing through wet road.I sat in the backseat, window cracked just enough to let the night air slip in. The blunt burned slow between my fingers — smoke curling up against the roof. I took a long drag, letting the smoke sit heavy in my chest before passing it forward.“Here… calm your nerves.”Tony snorted from the passenger seat, taking it without missing a beat.“Come on, Marco… what the fuck you think this is? First rodeo?” He puffed out a cloud, passing it straight to Petrov in the driver’s seat.Petrov grabbed it with a grin, eyes fixed on the road.“The man’s treating us like fresh meat.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, that crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “I ain’t been nervous since Danzo’s funeral.”I couldn’t help the faint s
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