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Sixty Three
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2025-02-12 17:00:00I 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
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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
Last Updated : 2025-02-12The Don's Forbidden Muse Sixty Five
I stand there, staring at the painting in silence. The image looking back at me is so detailed, so painstakingly crafted, it feels more like a reflection than a painting. Every brushstroke on the canvas captures me perfectly, down to the smallest freckle on my cheek—even the little scar on my chin that I got on the playground as a child. The way it’s so detailed, one would have to have studied my face for a very long time to capture every detail he has. My eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, and there’s a look in them I don’t recognize—vulnerability mixed with longing. I can’t tell if it’s meant to reflect me or Alessandro’s perception of me, but it sends a shiver down my spine.“And you’d think one would be enough, no?” Maria says, moving to the other canvases. She begins uncovering them, one after the other, and they’re all of me. They don’t just look like they were painted from pure imagination
Last Updated : 2025-02-12The Don's Forbidden Muse Sixty Six
I stop just before reaching the main living room, take a deep breath, exhale, and pat dry the tears that have been falling. When I walk into the living room, Dell is seated on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, while Luca paces near the window. They both look up as I enter, and my steps falter at the sight of Luca.I don’t understand him. How could he bring me here, knowing what would happen? Knowing Maria would—“Dell,” I say, my voice trembling as I try to calm myself and act as nonchalant as I can. “Take me out of here. Now.”“Renée, are you okay?” he asks, standing and walking toward me. I clear my throat and nod, unwilling to talk about what just happened.“What did she do?” he asks, frowning. Before I can answer, Luca turns, his expression a mix of guilt and something I can’t decipher.“I’ll take you,” he says softly. “I&rsqu
Last Updated : 2025-02-13The Don's Forbidden Muse Sixty Seven
For a moment, my heart stops beating, and I’m completely frozen in the moment. My body stiffens as the logical part of my brain instinctively telling me to pull away. That this is wrong, that I shouldn’t let it happen. But his lips are so soft, so insistent, moving against mine with a tenderness I never expected. And he’s such a good kisser that it’s impossibly hard to resist him. I hear him let out a soft groan of frustration, and I know it’s my cue to kiss him back. My heart races, pounding so loudly I can barely hear my own thoughts.But still, they are there, and the deeper I kiss him, the louder they become.What am I doing?He’s married. Not just married but also the man whose wife confronted me hours ago, threatening me to stay away from her husband—or die. The same woman whose deal I accepted to leave the country. Guilt starts to creep in, and as much as I want to fight it off, I think I’m losing. Alessandr
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I’m standing in Raul’s guest room, staring at the dress I bought. I kind of passed by the store and picked it up while we were driving here last night. It’s gorgeous, no doubt, but it doesn’t take away the thoughts swirling in my head. What am I even doing? When I suggested Alessandro take me out on a date, it was in the heat of the moment. I needed to say something to distract him from asking me not to leave the country. Now that the day is here, I’m dreading every minute as it approaches.There’s someone perched on the edge of the bed, grinning like she’s known me forever—Emilia, Raul’s fiancée. Her energy is warm but almost overwhelming. I get that she’s excited to meet me and wants to bond, but I didn’t necessarily want her in the room while I’m getting ready for the date. I couldn’t tell her no, though, because this is her and Raul’s place.“Are you sure about these ea
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"Is this sudden decision to leave because I can’t define what this is between us?” Alessandro asks in a low yet sharp voice. I shake my head.“No, I had already made up my mind way before this date,” I say, and he shakes his head in disbelief, clearly not believing me.“You told me that you wanted me to take you out on this date so that you could make the decision. Is this what it was all about? You giving me an ultimatum?”I scoff and shake my head. Why would he even think that? I didn’t give him any sort of ultimatum. I would never do that. Hell, I didn’t even say anything except that I’m leaving.“No, that’s not true,” I say, watching as his lips curl into a knowing smirk, the kind that makes my blood boil.“Don’t lie to me, Renée. I understand the answer you want from me—I do. But I can’t give you that.”I blink, trying to keep my
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Do I know what I’m doing? No.Am I going to regret this? Probably, yeah.Do I care? No, not even one bit. I probably left my guilty conscience back at the restaurant, but who cares? I won’t be around in the next twenty-four hours to question or regret my decisions.It is so quiet in this elevator. I know both of us are probably questioning what the hell we think we are doing and whether it’s even the right thing to do. Worse, after we just had a fight about this whole situation. It feels hypocritical of us—me the most. One thing I know for sure right now is that the air around us is crackling with unspoken need.The moment the doors slide open to his penthouse, his lips are on mine again, more demanding this time. His hands are everywhere—my coat, my hair, my waist—and I’m losing track of what is happening. He takes off his coat and lets it fall to the floor, just an inch away from mine.His hand reaches fo
Last Updated : 2025-02-14The Don's Forbidden Muse Seventy One
The bathroom tile feels cold under my feet as I sit perched on the toilet lid, phone pressed to my ear. I pull the bathrobe tighter to feel warm. I’m trying my best to keep my voice low because I don’t want Alessandro to hear this. I get that the bathroom is huge and the distance from where I am to where he is in the bed is big enough for me to talk freely, but still, I don’t want to. Tati’s voice, groggy but still unmistakably her, filters through the line.“What time is it where you are?” she asks.“Uhm… seven in the morning,” I whisper, glancing at the sleek clock mounted above the bathroom sink. I don’t understand why anyone would need a clock in the bathroom, but I don’t question rich people’s interior design choices. There is always something that feels out of place with them.“Seven?” She lets out a low groan. “Renée, it’s two in the morning here. Two.
Last Updated : 2025-02-14
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The Don's Forbidden Muse Epilogue
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
The Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety Five
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 Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety Four
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,
The Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety Three
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
The Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety Two
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
The Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety One
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
The Don's Forbidden Muse Ninety
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.
The Don's Forbidden Muse Eighty Nine
“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 Don's Forbidden Muse Eighty Eight
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,
