The jet’s engines hum softly as we land smoothly on the private runway. My body still feels like it’s floating from the ride, the sheer luxury of the experience leaving me a little giddy. This is the most beautiful surprise—exactly what I needed today. I never thought a jet ride could feel this magical, but it does. Alessandro has been quiet during the descent, but his hand never left mine. As he helps me down the stairs, his touch firm and protective, I feel completely fulfilled.
I’m expecting a car to be waiting for us, maybe another sleek black vehicle like the ones he always seems to have on hand. Instead, my jaw practically unhinges when I spot a helicopter—a sleek, black beauty with blades shimmering under the faint glow of the runway lights. Its propellers are spinning slowly, as if it’s waiting just for us.
“No fucking way,” I say, blinking repeatedly just to convince myself this is real. “Are you serious?&r
I can hear his voice when I wake up. The sun is peeping in through the window. My eyelids flutter, but he’s talking on the phone, so I keep them closed, pretending to still be asleep. A blanket is draped over my naked body, and it smells faintly of him—clean, woodsy, and familiar.“What do you mean another one of our shipments is delayed?” he asks on the call, and I can’t help but wonder what the shipment is about. Could it be drugs? When I once asked him if he dealt drugs, he only chuckled but never really answered. Then there was that one time I saw Luca using coke at the club, so I don’t know. When I asked if he was into money laundering, he had the same reaction.He’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, I can tell he’s even more pissed. “We’ve been doing business for years. We pay our part, and the cops look the other way. I don’t know why they’re suddenly giving us trouble now,&rdquo
I step out of the washroom, a bathrobe securely wrapped around my body. As expected, he’s waiting for me, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on me like he’s been standing there for a while. This feels like a repeat of the other night, except this time, I’m so done with him.“I don’t want to fight,” he says, his voice calm but firm.“Neither do I,” I reply, walking past him. I knew he would be waiting for me after my shower to talk, but honestly, I’m too pissed to entertain him.There’s tension in the air, but I try to focus on the immediate problem: my clothes. I glance at the pants and top I wore last night, crumpled in the corner, and sigh. Am I really about to put that on again? Before I can decide, he interrupts.“There are clothes in the closet,” he says, nodding toward the adjoining room.I pause, confused. “Clothes? In the closet?” I didn&
I got back to Raul’s place a few hours ago. My father wasn’t home, and when I asked Raul where he was, he said he left earlier with one of the security guys to deal with something. He didn’t give me much detail about it, so I’ll just have to call my father and ask him. Although Raul assured me he’d be fine and the security guy would make sure nothing happened to him, I still want to check on him myself.When I returned, I was too tired and just wanted some peace and rest, but Raul couldn’t let me have that the moment I told him I’d be moving in with Alessandro. I drove back with Alessandro, but along the way, he had Mateo pick me up because he said he needed to rush somewhere.So here we are, seated in the dining room across from each other. Raul looks like he wants to scold me but doesn’t know how to start.“You’re moving in with Alessandro?” he asks sharply.I shrug, nodding. “Yeah,
AlessandroMy heart races as I stare at the screenshot I took. I lean back in my chair, gripping the edges of the desk as if anchoring myself to reality. The video wasn’t clear—too much movement, too many shadows—but something about her. The voice. That look. I can’t shake the feeling.It can’t be.But if it is…When I knew her she used to go by a different name, it wasn't Emilia.I rub a hand down my face, trying to steady my breathing. I don’t care if I’m right or wrong, but if I am, then Renée’s life might be in danger, and I would die before letting anything happen to her.There’s only one person who can confirm this suspicion, but I hate the idea of going to her. Maria. She is the last person I want to talk to right now, not after the fight we had earlier when I came back.But I don’t have a choice.I push out my chair, the screeching sound echoing i
RenéeThe moment the call drops, my heart sinks into my stomach. I pull the phone from my ear, staring at the dark screen. The battery’s dead. It hadn’t fully charged when I took it off earlier to call Alessandro. I groan in frustration as I fumble to connect it to the charger. My hands are trembling as my mind races back to his last words. I couldn’t quite catch them, but he said something about Emilia.I don’t know what he said she was, but I’m scared.My fingers fumble with the charger until I finally manage to plug it in. The phone lights up, the charging symbol glowing on the screen. I impatiently stare at it, praying it will charge faster.What did he mean?Why did he sound so terrified?What did he see during that video call?And what did Emilia see that made her sprint out of here so fast?Why did he want me to find Marco and Mateo and have them take me away from here? These people a
The car is silent except for my pounding heart, Marco’s labored breathing, and the soft clicking sound of Emilia tapping her nails on the gun pointed at me. Her other gun rests lazily on Marco, a silent threat that keeps me gripping the steering wheel tighter than I should. My hands are trembling and slick with sweat and blood from when I tried to stop Marco’s bleeding. The whole car reeks of iron—a nauseating smell—but I’m too focused on the gun pointed at me and Marco’s worsening condition to care.“Where are we going?” I ask. Emilia only shrugs and waves for me to keep my eyes on the road. I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay so I can see where I’m heading.“Where are my father and Raul?” My voice cracks despite my best effort to sound calm. I don’t know what she’s done to them. I should’ve been more suspicious when I returned and couldn’t find my father, or when Ra
The two women exchange a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them, before one of them stands up. She is slightly taller and more petite than me, though I suspect that’s due to the harsh conditions here. She deliberately walks toward me, the fear she initially displayed now replaced by feigned confidence. The second woman, much shorter with cropped hair, follows close behind, and my heart races with every step they take closer.“So, you’re the new one,” the first woman says, her voice sharp and biting. Even with the coldness in her tone, there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as though she’s heard of me and wants to know more.I blink, confused by her words. “What do you mean?” I ask, though deep down, a part of me already knows.There can only be one reason we look so similar, and I desperately hope it isn’t true—because if it is, I’ll lose my mind.She tilts her head,
“Hey! Hey! Let us out of here, you sons of bitches!” Mateo’s scream tears through the heavy silence in the room. He thrashes against the ropes binding him to the chair, his voice hoarse as he shouts.“Let us out of here! Do you hear me? You bastards! You’re going to pay for letting Marco die. I swear to God!” he screams again, his voice bouncing off the walls, but no one comes. The night is quiet except for the sounds of the crickets and my sobbing. I turn to look at my father and brother, and they have that same sad look on their faces.Mateo keeps screaming in rage at no one, yet still, no one seems to hear his cries.I remain seated on the floor, my hands still stained with the now-dried blood that belonged to Marco. Tears stream down my face, and my whole body shakes. He was alive not long ago. But now he is gone. He’s really gone. My chest feels tight, and I can barely breathe. If only Emilia had let me help him&hel
One year laterThe soft click of the camera is the only sound in the room as I lean in closer, adjusting the angle to capture the perfect shot. My client is seated on the velvet chaise, draped in delicate lace. Her confidence radiates through the lens, and she is beautiful. The natural light streaming through the tall windows bathes her in a warm glow, highlighting every curve and detail.“Beautiful,” I murmur in a steady voice as I guide her. “Tilt your chin slightly… yes, just like that. Perfect.”This is my world now. My studio, my work, my passion. It’s been over a year and a half since I found my footing in this country, and my boudoir photography has taken off in ways I never imagined. Had someone told me I would stay here and make it my home after all the tragedies that happened, I would have laughed in their face. But here I am. High-end clients, features in glossy magazines—it’s everything I dreamed of an
I open my eyes, and the splitting headache is a clear reminder of the hangover from last night. I think I might have had a little too much to drink. My body is tangled in soft linen sheets that aren’t mine. I quickly sit up, blinking against the brightness streaming through the curtains. For a moment, everything is hazy—the room, the night, and the nagging sense of regret clawing at the edges of my mind.I push myself up slowly, the cozy carpet beneath my feet unfamiliar. Panic starts to creep in as I take in the space. A strange home. My mind is slowly piecing everything together, and then it hits me—Luca. The bar. The bathroom. His bed.“Oh my god,” I whisper, my hands flying to my face.What the hell have I done?The events of last night quickly come crashing in. What we did didn’t just stop in that bar bathroom. Somehow, we ended up here, and we didn’t stop until... I shake my head, trying to will the memories
The restaurant is quiet. Too quiet. I’m seated at the center of it, watching the soft shadows cast across the empty tables around me by the flickering candlelight. The dress delivered earlier fits like a glove, hugging my curves and making me feel beautiful, but I’m slowly starting to feel less and less beautiful as time keeps passing by. Sitting here alone in this massive restaurant feels uncomfortable.I swirl the wine in my glass, the rich red liquid catching the light. I sigh and take a sip. It’s my third—or is it my fourth? I’ve lost count. I don’t normally get drunk on wine, but if I keep taking one glass after another, I’ll be tipsy by the time this date even starts. I glance at my phone for the umpteenth time, the screen lighting up with the same message he sent over forty-five minutes ago:I’ll be late, but I’m on my way. Order something, love.That word love feels hollow now. I check the time again,
Several months laterThis always feels like the first time. I’m straddling Alessandro in the warm, scented water of our bathtub, riding out the pleasure as water laps against my skin. His hands grip my waist tightly, and his head tips back as he groans my name. It’s moments like this when I forget the chaos around us. Here, it’s just him and me—no one else.I let out a soft moan as I finish, my body trembling as I collapse against him. He catches me, cradling me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, before pressing a kiss to my forehead, then to my lips, his breath warm and tender.“I love you,” he whispers softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.Those three words hit me like a wave every time he says them. I smile, kissing him back gently before leaning against his chest, slowly listening to the rhythm of our breathing. His hand brushes through my hair, untangling it with care.“What are you
I am shaking as I stare at the pool of blood on the floor next to my father’s leg, which keeps growing larger with every passing second. His face is pale, and he is starting to get weaker. I’m trying to hold back my tears, wishing I could help him, but I can’t move. My body feels like it’s chained to this seat, my fists trembling in place on my lap.“Okay, I’ll ask again,” Emilia’s sharp voice cuts through the air, making my heart race even faster. “Who do you have resentment for in this room, Principessa?” she asks in a mocking voice.My throat is dry, my voice barely above a whisper as I stammer. “Maria.”I hear Maria scoff at the other end of the room. “Bitch,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.I swallow hard, trying not to look in her direction. Emilia leans forward, clearly intrigued. “Oh, now this is getting interest
I open my eyes, and my head is killing me. The first thing I feel is the cold, hard surface beneath me. I try to piece together where I am. Someone is calling my name, the voice faint but familiar, slicing through the fog clouding my mind.“Renée…”I force my eyes open, blinking against the light filtering into the massive room. It takes me a moment to figure out my surroundings, and then I see him—Alessandro. He’s seated on a chair a few feet away, his hands bound, his eyes filled with anger and despair.My heart jumps. He came for me.I try to sit up, and my body aches with every move, but I still manage to sit.“Alessandro,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I struggle to stand.He shakes his head, a silent warning, and that’s when I see it—a gun pressed against his temple. My breath catches in my throat as my heart starts to race.“Hey… hey… are you ok
AlessandroAfter that phone call with Emilia, I’ve felt stuck ever since. I don’t know what to do. Before I took over the reign of the East mafiadome—just before I married Emilia—the queen was already on top of the food chain. There were rumors about how ruthless she was, how evil she was. The things she used to do. She was the lowest of the barrel when it came to cruelty. I didn’t think there was anything beyond her in terms of the evil she was capable of. She would kill without mercy, deal the worst drugs, and human and sex trafficking were part of her trade.So when I married Maria, I swore to change all that. I vowed to be ruthless, but not ruthless like her. I wanted to make things right—and I did.By doing so, I threatened her, and she fought back. There is nothing worse than fighting someone you don’t truly know.The thing is, before her, her father ruled. He supposedly only had sons—or so we thought.
“Hey! Hey! Let us out of here, you sons of bitches!” Mateo’s scream tears through the heavy silence in the room. He thrashes against the ropes binding him to the chair, his voice hoarse as he shouts.“Let us out of here! Do you hear me? You bastards! You’re going to pay for letting Marco die. I swear to God!” he screams again, his voice bouncing off the walls, but no one comes. The night is quiet except for the sounds of the crickets and my sobbing. I turn to look at my father and brother, and they have that same sad look on their faces.Mateo keeps screaming in rage at no one, yet still, no one seems to hear his cries.I remain seated on the floor, my hands still stained with the now-dried blood that belonged to Marco. Tears stream down my face, and my whole body shakes. He was alive not long ago. But now he is gone. He’s really gone. My chest feels tight, and I can barely breathe. If only Emilia had let me help him&hel
The two women exchange a knowing glance, a silent communication passing between them, before one of them stands up. She is slightly taller and more petite than me, though I suspect that’s due to the harsh conditions here. She deliberately walks toward me, the fear she initially displayed now replaced by feigned confidence. The second woman, much shorter with cropped hair, follows close behind, and my heart races with every step they take closer.“So, you’re the new one,” the first woman says, her voice sharp and biting. Even with the coldness in her tone, there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as though she’s heard of me and wants to know more.I blink, confused by her words. “What do you mean?” I ask, though deep down, a part of me already knows.There can only be one reason we look so similar, and I desperately hope it isn’t true—because if it is, I’ll lose my mind.She tilts her head,