He’s dressed in his signature look—a black shirt and black pants. Given that it’s the middle of the night, I thought he might show up in something more casual. For a moment, there’s an awkward pause; his expression unreadable as he looks away, seemingly ignoring the scene, then moves toward us. I quickly stand up, straightening myself, trying to gauge his reaction, but he stays composed, his expression closed. I can’t quite explain how I feel seeing him. I should be relieved, even glad, but I don’t feel any of that. My heart hasn’t skipped a beat at his presence; the only reason it’s racing is because he walked in on me and Luca in an awkward position.
“Give us a moment,” he tells Luca, who nervously clears his throat, nods, and walks away. Now it’s just the two of us, and the tension in the room crackles like electricity.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a low tone. I clear my throat and nod. I&rs
I step out of the bathroom after what felt like an eternity. After being held captive, with limited access to a shower or even a change of clothes, this shower was a much-needed relief, and I spent as long as I could in there. Steam trails out behind me, the fresh scent of soap and water mingling with the cool air of the room. My muscles ache, a reminder of the tension I've carried, of just how drained my body is. I could use a good night’s sleep, but that luxury is out of reach—not when my father’s and brother’s lives are in danger. Who knows what might be happening to them?As I pat myself dry with a towel, I notice Bella seated on the bed, waiting for me. Her brows are furrowed, her eyes soft with a sympathy I almost can’t bear. She’s been looking at me like that since she got here. I know she has a lot of questions, and I’m grateful she hasn’t asked about what I went through. I just don’t want to talk about it.
The air between us goes still, Bella’s eyes widening as she looks to me for a reaction. I hadn’t really gotten around to telling her about that. I’ve been dealing with a lot, and since I regret doing it, it’s not exactly something I want to talk about. I feel heat rise to my face, but I say nothing, my mind whirling. Did Alessandro tell her that? If he did, why on earth would he? Also, the way she asked if I kissed him makes it clear the story was framed to make me look like I made the first move.Mia scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “I overheard your little fight with him. Don’t even think of denying it.”“I wasn’t,” I say with a shrug, not feeling like I owe her an explanation. I mean, I don’t even understand why she seems so bothered by it.“And why does it matter to you, Mia?” Bella jumps in, asking the question on my mind, and I appreciate her loyalty even when she didn’t know a
"I was told you have medical training?” the medic asks, and I nod.“Yes, nursing.”“Good. Give them these antibiotics twice a day after they’ve eaten, and these painkillers when needed. Your father’s injuries aren’t serious, except for a mild concussion; with enough rest, he should be fine soon.” I take the pills he hands me, listening closely to his instructions.“Thank you.”“Your brother’s wound should be cleaned in a few days, and he should limit his movement,” he says. I nod, watching as he leaves.It’s been a couple of hours since Raul walked in with my father and a gunshot wound to his stomach. I was so worried he wouldn’t be okay, and I tried as much as possible to reduce the bleeding while waiting for Alessandro’s medic friend to arrive. I could have tried to take out the bullet, but I was too shaken to even attempt it.I walk back into t
We pull up in front of my apartment, and I feel a mix of relief and dread. The events from earlier today play on a loop in my mind. That fight was quite unnecessary, if I’m being honest. I hate that Alessandro would side with Mia and try to doubt my brother. He was shot trying to save my father, and they still think there’s no way he could have gotten out on his own. It still hurts that Alessandro didn’t even attempt to defend my brother—or me, for that matter.As Luca parks the car, I glance at Raul beside me. He’s pale, leaning back, but there’s a quiet determination in his eyes that reassures me. My father is seated silently in front, his attention ahead. Bella sits on my other side, gripping my hand as if she can read my thoughts, grounding me when I feel close to spiraling. My father suggested we go home, to his place, but Luca and Alessandro said that would be a bad idea because the Northern mafia would look for him there. We couldn’t go to Raul’s place because it’s an hour away
“I swear I feel fine now. I should go home before my fiancée gets worried,” Raul says, and I shake my head.“It is still not safe.” The doctor was very clear about Raul being moved as little as possible for at least forty-eight hours. It has only been a little over twenty-four hours since he was treated. If he’s to go back to his place, tomorrow would probably be the best time. But given that the threat from the Northern mafia group just got worse, I don’t even think him being away from us is a good idea.“Me staying here is going to worry her even more. Besides, Dad is kind of not comfortable with all these people around—they are criminals, you know,” he says in a whispering voice, and I frown, looking around to see if anyone can overhear our conversation. Bella is seated on one of the plush couches, her attention fully on her phone, while my dad is focused on whatever is happening on the TV. Everyone seems
I head outside, needing air. The sun is warm, and the sound of gunfire echoes across the field. Watching everything that’s happening feels like watching art. It’s not every day you get the privilege of seeing over ten athletic, shirtless men training. It’s a sight to behold. I think it’d be even cooler if I grabbed Bella and we just sat back and watched. But before I can consider fetching her, my eyes land on Luca, who’s commanding the session with effortless ease. There’s a natural confidence to him, a charisma that’s impossible to ignore.I take a few steps closer, and as if he senses it, he glances over and smiles.An idea springs to mind, and before I can second-guess myself, I walk toward him. “Luca,” I call out.“Hey,” he lifts his vest, patting the sweat off his face with it. The moment my eyes land on his abs, my jaw drops.Okay, wow.“What’s up?” His tone i
I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. His tone doesn’t sound playful; it’s a threat. But the thing is, I’m getting tired of him feeling some sort of entitlement toward me.“Yours?” My voice rises in disbelief. “You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to put some claim on me when you’ve made it loud and clear that you’re married.”Ever since we met, and he decided in his twisted mind that I was perfect to be his mistress, he put that claim on me like I was some property. No matter how many times I told him he had no right to do so, my pleas just fell on deaf ears. Then I made the first move, expecting he would reciprocate because that was what he wanted. And it wasn’t just the kiss—when I told him I was okay with it, he said something along the lines of me not being certain. Then, when I was willing, he pulled the “I’m married” card. So, I’m sorry, but he
I stare at the phone for a moment, unable to process what just happened. The call replays in my mind as I hand the phone back to Luca when he stretches his hand out, but I don’t say a word. I could ignore what she said and not meet her. I don’t know what she wants to talk about, but I have a feeling she knows everything. The thing is, if I ignore her, it’ll look like I’m guilty. And I’m not. At least, I’m trying to convince myself I’m not.“What did she want?” Dell asks, pulling me from my thoughts. There’s concern etched in his voice.“She wants to see me,” I say, my voice betraying my confusion.Dell furrows his brows, matching my bewilderment.“Why would she want that?”“She wants us to talk.” Honestly, I’m scared, but I’m trying so hard not to show it.“You know you can’t go, right?” Dell says, and I shake my head
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,