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 tension in the room hung heavy, thickening with each passing second. Ella shifted uncomfortably, her once smug confidence cracking as she stared at me, her eyes pleading now. “Cleo, please,” she murmured, her voice softer than before. “Let’s not do this here. We can talk about this later, I swear.” Her voice grated against my ears, insincere. I shook my head, my resolve as firm as iron. “No,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through the silence. “We talk now. I need you both to understand what you’ve done, the pain you’ve caused me. You turned my life into a nightmare, and I’m done waiting for karma to catch up to you.” Aunt Lydia’s mouth opened, her lips forming the words of another excuse, another lie, but I didn’t let her speak. “And I won’t listen to any more of your excuses.” Her face tightened, the mask she always wore cracking at the edges. For once, she looked almost… desperate. “Cleo, stop this madness. You don’t know what you’re risking,” Aunt Lydia wa
Cleo's POV I sat in the chair, my hands trembling slightly as I gazed at the mirror, the reflection of Ella’s delicate veil draping over my face. Behind me, Ella lay unconscious, her body hidden behind the curtains, bound and out of sight. The silk of the wedding dress clung to me like a second skin, but it didn’t feel like mine. Every fiber of it belonged to the woman who had taken everything from me. I was wearing her life, her future, her happiness, and soon, she would know how it felt to lose everything. The announcement for the bride's entrance echoed through the hall, and my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath, rising from the chair, feeling the weight of the moment settle into my bones. This wasn’t just a wedding; it was the culmination of every ounce of pain, betrayal, and loss I’d endured. As I stepped into the hallway, Aunt Lydia appeared, her face glowing with pride, completely unaware of the deception unfolding before her. She looped her arm through mine wi
Cleo's POV Miley glanced at me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as the priest continued with the final words of the ceremony. The laughter from the congregation still echoed softly in the background, the atmosphere warm, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface. "You don’t have to lift it,” I murmured, my voice teasing yet firm, trying to maintain control over my trembling emotions. Miley grinned in response, clearly enjoying the playful resistance. He leaned in slowly, and despite my efforts to hold back, his fingers gently grasped the edge of the veil. My breath caught as he lifted it just enough to reveal my lips. And then he kissed me. The touch of his lips against mine ignited a cascade of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. I stiffened, fighting the surge of memories of every kiss we’d shared when things were good, when love was real. I tried to pull away, but something inside me snapped. Too bad, kissing him once more wouldn’t hurt. Before I knew it, I w
Miley's POV The ceremony was perfect. Well, almost. The laughter of the guests, the soft buzz of excitement, and the playful comments as I kissed what I thought was Ella on the lips, all of it felt right, like the world was finally aligning in my favor. The veil, she didn’t want me to lift it at first. She was playful, almost teasing me as if this was some kind of game. I had to admit, it was cute. I liked that side of her, the side that didn’t take everything too seriously. Ella had always been a little too uptight about appearances, about being perfect in front of people. But today, she was light, fun, and carefree. That kiss though... something about it had been off. There was resistance at first, but then, she pulled me closer, kissing me like we were back in the early days. And for a second, I almost believed she still felt the same way about me as I did about her. The crowd was laughing and cheering us on, telling us to take it easy. It felt good, it felt right, even if a
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.