MARCO Carlos closed the door behind him, and I settled into my chair, facing both Tony and Carlos. The room was thick with an awkward silence, the kind that makes you painfully aware of every small noise. I cleared my throat, trying to break the tension.“So, Tony,” I began, forcing a casual tone into my voice, “how was your time at the hospital?”Tony leaned back, letting out a low groan. “Hell. Absolute hell,” he replied, his voice laced with exhaustion.I tried to lighten the mood, offering a half-smile. “Well, at least you’re out now. That’s something.”Tony smirked, but there was a bitterness to it. “Yeah, and I even managed to get the number of one of those sexy nurses. Not a total waste of time, right?”Carlos and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound cutting through the heavy atmosphere in the room. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” I said, grinning at him.Tony shrugged, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What else is there to lose, Marco? My legs don’t w
SARAHI sat in the living room, the sound of the ticking clock filling the silence around me as I focused on the knitting needles in my hands. It had been weeks since Marco’s incident, weeks since I’d taken care of him when he was so weak and vulnerable, his defenses stripped away by pain and exhaustion. It had been a strange time, seeing him like that. A side of Marco I’d never seen before, and one I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.I sighed, the yarn slipping through my fingers as I thought about how different he was now. Back then, when he could barely stand, when he needed me for every little thing, he was softer. Almost… kind. And for a moment, I’d almost believed that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the cold, hard man I’d known him to be.But now? Now he was back to being an asshole. The same arrogant, stubborn man who barked orders and expected everyone to fall in line. The same man who looked at me with that infuriating smirk, who uttered things like, “I love you,
SARAHI sat there, still clutching the phone, my mind reeling from the conversation I’d just had with my dad. His words echoed in my head, each one tugging at the strings of my heart, wrapping me in a blanket of guilt and sorrow. How had things gotten so bad for him? How had I let it get this far without knowing, without helping? The man who had always been my rock was now crumbling, and I felt powerless to do anything about it.I tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me like a dark cloud, heavy and suffocating. I could see his face in my mind, the way it must have looked when he told me he was broke, sick, and barely surviving. It broke me, knowing that I hadn’t been there for him, that I hadn’t noticed how much he was struggling. He had always been so strong, so capable, and now… now he was asking me for help. I could still hear the pain in his voice, the desperation that he tried so hard to hide.My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, the pressure building
SARAHI sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror, trying to steady the anxious flutter in my chest. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, but one thing was clear—this was something I had to do. My father’s well-being was on the line, and I couldn’t afford to back down now. I had to ask Marco for the money, even though the mere thought of it made my stomach churn.“You can do this,” I whispered to myself, my voice trembling slightly. “It’s for Dad. You have to be strong.”I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand. My legs felt like lead as I walked over to the closet, grabbing a light jacket to throw over my shoulders. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror again—my face pale, eyes wide with nerves. I looked like I was about to face a firing squad.“Don’t be scared,” I murmured, trying to convince myself. “Marco’s not a monster. He’s… he’s just Marco. You’ve handled him before. You can do it again.”I wasn’t sure if I believed my own words, but I didn’t hav
SARAHAfter the exhausting day I’d had, I was ready to finally let my mind shut off. I slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, and let out a long, tired sigh. The events of the day replayed in my head—my failure to ask Marco for the money, overhearing that strange conversation about Uncle Danzo, the frustration and anxiety that clung to me like a second skin. I just wanted it all to go away, even if only for a few hours of sleep.Just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sudden sound made my heart skip a beat, and I quickly reached over to grab it, hoping it wasn’t some late-night emergency. When I saw the name on the screen, though, my heart sank.Dad.I stared at the phone, feeling a wave of guilt and dread wash over me. I knew why he was calling. I’d been putting this off for days now, trying to come up with a way to tell him I didn’t have the money yet. But now, there was no more avoiding it. I had to answer.Taking a deep breath, I s
SARAHI leaned against the wall just outside Marco’s room, trying to calm my racing heart. My legs felt like jelly, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I always mess things up like this? I had barely even said two words to him before I panicked and ran.Before I could turn and make a full retreat back to my room, I heard his voice call out.“You planning on staring from all the way over there?” Marco’s voice cut through the silence, snapping me out of my thoughts. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of amusement in it. I glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed on me.My face flushed red. I must’ve looked ridiculous, standing out here like some awkward schoolgirl. I swallowed, forcing myself to move. My feet felt heavy as I stepped inside his room, keeping my eyes averted. He was still shirtless, and I didn’t trust myself to look at him without turning into a blushing m
SARAHI blinked, my breath catching in my throat. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. Surely, I had misheard him. There was no way Marco was serious. “A… a what?” The words barely slipped out of my mouth, my voice shaky, unsure. It felt like I was caught in some kind of sick joke.Marco just stood there, his expression completely unbothered. That stupid grin still plastered on his face as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “You heard me, Sarah,” he said calmly, almost too casually. “I want a kid. Seems like a fair trade, don’t you think?”Fair trade? My mind was racing. My legs felt weak, and the walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me. What the actual fuck? What kind of twisted choices were these? This wasn’t real. He couldn’t be serious. This was just another one of his sick games.I swallowed hard, trying to push down the panic rising in my chest. “I know you’ve always had a thing for bad jokes, Marco,” I managed, forcing a nervous laugh, hoping—praying—that this w
SARAHI stared at him, my mind racing, trying to comprehend the situation. It felt like everything had shifted in a matter of seconds. Just moments ago, I’d been desperate, but now I felt cornered—trapped in a way I hadn’t expected. Marco wasn’t just dangling money over my head anymore; he was stripping me of my dignity, of any remaining sense of control I thought I had.I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “You’re sick, Marco.” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but there was a fierceness behind it that I couldn’t hold back.He tilted his head, amused. “Am I? Or am I just being practical? You want something from me, and I want something from you. It’s a fair trade.”“A fair trade?” I repeated, my anger rising with every breath. “You think I’m just going to sleep with you for money? You think that’s how this works?”“It’s not about what I think, Sarah,” he said smoothly, as if the idea of this transaction was something I should’ve already accepted. “It’s about what you need. You ca
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
ISABELLAThe vibration of my phone pulled me from sleep, the dim light of the screen casting a faint glow across the room. I squinted, blinking at the message:“10 a.m. - Firm location pinned. Be there.”An unknown number, but I didn’t need a name. It was them. Finally, the opportunity I’d been waiting for. My ticket to get back at Marco De Luca.A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared at the message. I could almost hear his voice, calm and cold, the way it had been that day when he kicked me out. His exact words still echoed in my mind:“I don’t tolerate liars, Isabella. Pack your things and leave.”He hadn’t even flinched. No hesitation, no second chances. It didn’t matter that I lied to protect myself. It didn’t matter that I was the best thing to ever happen to him. He tossed me aside like I was nothing.But I wasn’t nothing.As I sat up in bed, gripping my phone tightly, my thoughts sharpened with resolve. He thought he could have his perfect little life with his wife and hi