Russo’s eyes bore into mine, the weight of everything we were about to do hanging in the air. I could feel his resistance crumbling, the logic of the situation winning out over his need to protect me. I knew this wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best chance we had. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he finally said, his voice low and reluctant. “But we do this my way. If you’re in, you follow every order I give, no exceptions.” I nodded, swallowing hard. “Agreed.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw something deeper in his eyes, something beyond the hardened exterior he always wore. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Cleo.” “I do,” I replied, my voice firm. “And I’m ready.” Russo stared at me a moment longer, then nodded to Viktor, who had been standing silently by the door. “We’ll change the plan,” he said, addressing his second-in-command. “Cleo will go in. We’ll get the location and time from her. No moves until we’re sure he’ll
Back at the safehouse, the tension was thick in the air. I walked into the dimly lit room, my hands still trembling slightly from the encounter with Marco. Russo was waiting, pacing near the window. The moment I stepped inside, his eyes snapped toward me, searching my face for answers. “How did it go?” he asked, his voice tight with anticipation. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to steady my nerves. “It worked. I got him to agree to meet me tomorrow. He’s suspicious, but I think he bought it.” Russo’s jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides. “Where?” “He didn’t give me the location yet. He said he’ll text me tomorrow with the details.” Russo cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We need to be ready. If he even senses something’s off, he’ll disappear again.” I nodded, fully aware of the danger we were walking into. If we missed this chance, it would be over. Russo had waited years to track down Marco, to finally get answers about his
The ride back to the safehouse was thick with tension. Russo’s jaw remained clenched, his eyes fixed on the road, barely blinking. I sat beside him, still trying to steady my breathing after the chaos at the warehouse. We had come so close, and yet Marco had slipped away again, vanishing into the shadows like smoke. Viktor, in the seat behind us, was already on the phone, making calls and arranging for the cleanup. His voice was cold and efficient, but I could tell he was frustrated too. This was a missed opportunity, and we all knew it. I glanced over at Russo, hoping to say something, anything, that could ease the storm I saw brewing inside him, but the words wouldn’t come. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as if he was holding back an eruption of rage. “We’ll get him next time,” I said softly, trying to fill the silence. Russo’s eyes flicked toward me briefly before he shook his head. “There shouldn’t have been a ‘next time.’ He should’ve been dead tonight.” His vo
The plan was simple on paper, but execution was everything. Viktor had laid out every possible detail, and Russo made sure the men were positioned perfectly. This wasn’t just a hunt anymore; it was a game of survival for Russo and a chance to get the answers he had been seeking for years. We were back at another club, the kind of place Marco would frequent, underground, dark, filled with people who didn’t ask questions. I was the bait, just like last time, but this time the stakes were even higher. Russo had been clear Marco was coming in with more caution now, and he wouldn’t fall for the same setup twice. I wore something more understated this time a dark dress that clung to my figure just enough to catch his attention without being obvious. My hair was loose, and I kept my makeup simple, nothing too flashy. I was supposed to blend in with the crowd, a face he’d recognize but not be overly suspicious of. Russo stood off to the side, his eyes never leaving me. He wasn’t dressed f
The tension from the night still hung in the air as Russo and I walked back to the car. Marco was in custody, but the adrenaline hadn’t faded, and I could feel the intensity between us simmering just below the surface. Russo was quieter than usual, his thoughts likely spinning with everything that had just gone down. I glanced at him as we reached the car. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead, but his hand hovered near my back, guiding me to the passenger seat with a possessive protectiveness that wasn’t lost on me. There was an unspoken understanding between us now, something deeper than just the plan or the danger we’d faced. As we drove back to the safehouse, the silence was comfortable but charged with something unsaid. Every so often, I’d catch Russo glancing at me, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, like he was holding back from saying what was on his mind. I wasn’t sure where things stood between us anymore. What had started as a forced
The following days were tense. Marco was being held in the underground room, and Russo and Viktor were constantly with him, pushing him for answers. Each night, Russo returned to our room with that same intensity, a quiet storm brewing inside him, and I was there, always waiting, always ready to support him. But the emotional weight of what we were doing and what we had become was something I hadn’t fully processed yet. The nights Russo spent with me were filled with whispered confessions and stolen moments of passion, but by day, the mafia world consumed us. We never talked about what was happening between us in the open, but there was no denying it now. The connection we had was no longer just physical; it was emotional, it was trust. And though Russo never said it outright, I could feel that he needed me, that I had become more than just a pawn in his plan for revenge. One afternoon, as I was sitting in the living room of the safehouse, a knock came at the door. I opened it caut
The day after Russo’s confrontation with Marco, things between us seemed to settle into a strange rhythm. We’d been dancing around our feelings, and though there were sparks between us, the looming threat of Marco and the unanswered questions about Russo’s parents kept us from moving forward too quickly. But the tension didn’t end there. There was something else simmering beneath the surface, something that Russo had been keeping from me. I didn’t push him. I knew better than to pry when he wasn’t ready to share, but the silence between us was heavy, and I could sense that he was holding back. It wasn’t until I decided to attend Ella’s wedding that everything finally came to light. I was sitting in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee and trying to mentally prepare myself for what the wedding would mean. Seeing Aunt Lydia, knowing she had been behind so much of the pain I had endured, would be difficult enough. But the thought of seeing Ella, standing there in her white dress,
Cleo's POV As I stepped into the grand hall, the opulence of Ella and Miley’s wedding hit me like a wall of perfume and satin. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but I felt like an outsider, more like a ghost haunting my own past. The guests, dressed in their finest attire, cast glances my way, their expressions a mixture of surprise and confusion. The sleek black dress I wore was not just a fashion choice; it was a declaration. In a sea of white and pastels, I was the dark storm cloud that threatened to rain on their parade. I smoothed the fabric against my thighs, grounding myself in the purpose that had brought me here. With every step, memories of betrayal surged, heavy and unrelenting. I spotted Miley in the distance, whispering to his group of groomsmen, their laughter carrying across the room like some twisted incantation. Once upon a time, that laughter would have shattered me, but not today. “Cleo, are you sure about this?” Russo’s voice broke through my thoughts, his
Cleo's POV The first light of dawn filtered into the room, faint and cold, casting a pale glow across the bed. I stirred, my body stiff with lingering tension, and reached out instinctively. My hand met the cold, empty sheets beside me, and my heart sank. Russo wasn’t there. I sat up, the silence in the room oppressive. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I forced myself to go through my morning routine on autopilot; washing my face, brushing my teeth and trying to ignore the ache in my chest. The sunlight streaming through the windows mocked the chill in my chest. It was the weekend, a day I used to look forward to spending with Russo, but given that he didn't wake me up from sleep, he should probably be at the gym. Maybe he’d come back to his senses and apologize, or maybe offering the kind of explanation I longed for after sweating out all of Isabelle's manipulations. I headed downstairs, trying to push away the gnawing unease that had settled in my stomach. Maybe I’m o
CHAPTER 3 Cleo's POV Before I could process what was happening, he was off the bed, pulling away from me without a second glance. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of the moment, vanished as if it had never been there. I was left trembling, the cold air biting at my skin where his warmth had been just moments before. “Russo? What’s wrong?” I asked, but he was already out the door. He rushed out of the room, not even bothering to throw on a shirt, leaving me lying there in the dark. I heard him call her name again, his voice thick with concern as he disappeared down the hallway. Russo, where are you going?” I called out, trying to mask the frustration in my voice. My body was still humming with need, but I forced my legs together, willing the tension to ebb away. He didn’t answer. I bit my lower lip, the lingering warmth between my thighs rapidly cooling into a hollow ache. For a moment, I just lay there, paralyzed by a mix of emotions, confusion, anger, hurt. The remnants
Cleo's POV I forced another smile as Isabelle belched in my face, her breath reeking of alcohol. My stomach turned, and I had to fight the urge to step back. “Let’s go upstairs,” Russo said quickly, grabbing Isabelle’s arm. He looked at me, his expression almost pleading. “You don’t mind me guiding her upstairs, do you? She’s really drunk, you know.” He didn’t even wait for my response, just turned and put his arm around Isabelle again, guiding her toward the entrance of his building. I stood there, watching them. A thousand words tangled in my throat, but none of them would come out. I didn't suffer any grievances? This woman clearly knew who I was, before Russo could even introduce me. So, how come I never heard anything about her for once in the past six months? Fighting the lump in my throat, I grabbed my broken suitcase and trudged after them, my mind reeling. In the elevator, I finally found my voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days,” I said, forcing myself to look
Author’s POV As we turn the page into this next chapter, I want to take a moment to express my heartfelt gratitude for your support on Cleo, Russo, Aunt Lydia, Miley and Ella's journey thus far. Their story has been one of love, betrayal, and resilience, and it is far from over. In this continuation, you will delve deeper into Cleo's evolution as she navigates the complexities of her relationship with Russo and his secret long distance girlfriend, Isabelle, explores the intricacies of her past, and confronts the challenges that come with reclaiming her future. As the bonds of friendship are tested and new alliances are formed, prepare for a tapestry of emotions that will draw you even closer to these beloved characters. This sequel is crafted to seamlessly weave into the narrative you’ve already come to know, enriching the themes and the heart of the story while unveiling fresh layers of intrigue and connection. You are invited to immerse yourself once more in their world, where e
Cleo's POV Russo raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his expression. “Where exactly?”I couldn’t help but smile, a sense of freedom bubbling up inside me. “To my parents’ grave.”His expression softened, the lines of uncertainty easing away. “Then let’s go.”We stepped outside, the cool air embracing us as we made our way to the car. The world felt different now, lighter somehow, as though the burdens of my past were finally loosening their grip. I climbed into the passenger seat, and he turned to me, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.“You’re brave, Cleo. Facing the past like this.”I shrugged, feeling a mix of pride and vulnerability. “It’s time to make things right and to honor them properly.”The drive to the cemetery was filled with a comfortable silence, each passing moment allowing me to gather my thoughts. As we arrived, I glanced out the window at the sprawling grounds, the rows of gravestones standing like sentinels in the soft afternoon light.“Here we are,” I sai
She flinched, unable to meet my gaze as the truth unraveled before us both, heavy and undeniable. For a moment, a flicker of remorse crossed her face, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the twisted self-justification that had driven her all along."Cleo, you don’t understand," she hissed, her voice wavering. "I did it for survival. You don’t know the pressure, the weight of everything I had to endure. Your father was... useless to me. I needed control, or we’d have been left with nothing."My hands clenched, the anger simmering hotter than ever. "So you took everything from him and from me just to save yourself?"She bit her lip, struggling to hold onto her composure, but she was visibly cracking. "I… I did what I thought was best. I didn’t mean for it to go this far," she murmured, the hint of vulnerability almost pitiful if it weren’t for the years of pain she’d caused me.Russo stepped closer, his presence casting a shadow over her. "And Ella?" he asked sharply, his tone
The echo of Ella’s threats lingered in the quiet of the morning, her footsteps fading down the path. I leaned against the gate, taking a slow, steady breath, steadying myself after the charged encounter. My cheek still stung from her slap, but the ache only served to solidify the resolve that had been simmering inside me for so long.As I walked back to the house, Russo stepped into the hall, his brow furrowed as he looked me over. “Did she hurt you?” he asked, his voice calm but with a flicker of anger beneath.I shook my head. “She tried. But she’s not worth it, Russo. Not anymore.”He nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, approving smile. “That’s the Cleo I know.” He led me toward the kitchen, where he already had a steaming cup of coffee waiting, knowing I needed a moment to regain my composure.I took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through me, grounding me. “She’s going to keep coming back, you know. Ella won’t stop until she thinks she’s won, no matter what she
Cleo's POV My head was pounding, still foggy from sleep, when a loud bang echoed through the house. I shot up, barely able to focus as I tried to shake off the drowsiness. My vision cleared just enough to see the small screen that connected to the outside security camera. Ella was standing there, seething with anger, her face twisted in a way that sent a warning through my veins.I was expecting her anyways, but not so soon. I adjusted my clothes, trying to mask the unease creeping up my spine, and went to the gate. As soon as it opened enough to let her in, Ella stormed forward, her fury radiating like a wave. Before I could even get a word out, she slapped me hard across the face, the sting sharp and immediate.“Where are they, Cleo?” she demanded, her voice icy and controlled. “Where’s my mother? Where’s Miley?”My mind raced, but I kept my expression steady, meeting her furious gaze with as much composure as I could muster. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voi
Cleo's POV The leather seat in Russo's car was cool against my back, a stark contrast to the fiery adrenaline that still surged through my veins. I leaned back, trying to gather my thoughts, but my mind was still replaying the scene in that hotel room with Miley. The look on his face, his shock, his fear was something I’d savor for a long time. Russo glanced over at me from the driver’s seat, his sharp eyes assessing me before a smirk curved his lips. “You know, you looked stunning in that wedding gown,” he teased, the hint of laughter in his voice. I scoffed, rolling my eyes but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. “If you’re that invested in how I looked, you could’ve at least given me a proper wedding,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow at him. “Even if our marriage is just on paper.” Russo chuckled, his deep laugh filling the car. “So be it,” he said, his voice taking on a playful edge. “Let’s have that grand wedding, Cleo. White doves, a choir, the works.