Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Sinful Desire: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

RAFFAEL I ambled towards the house, a migraine throbbing at the side of my head. I felt so exhausted and drained. I had spent the entire night in my office, going over countless files and documents that seemed not to end. The port authorities were a serious pain in the ass not to mention the fuckers that hijacked my goods days ago. I still could not believe my capos had not tracked them yet. I give them one job to do and they are being so lazy about it! If not that I had other pressing issues at hand, I'd have killed the bastards that dared to steal from me. Currently right now, I was working on finding who had the audacity to send me a death threat via text message. I wasn't surprised though. This is the mafia and my life is a ticking time bomb. I had numerous enemies but my ability to crush them all was what kept me at the top. And may hell receive the soul of the cunt that sent that message to my phone. I'd make sure he meets his creator. My insiders , though t

ERICA A DAY LATER The air was suffocating, thick with the stench of mold and decay. I was cold, shaking uncontrollably, my wrists raw from the ropes biting into my skin. The faint light from the crack above barely touched the darkness around me. I had been here for a day already, fed with nothing but dried bread and water. My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t stop the tears sliding down my face. Will I make it out alive? What if Raffael never finds me? God please, just save me. I heard footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate. The door creaked open again, and this time, it was not just the driver. Another one followed him in, taller and broader, with a sneer plastered across his face. My stomach twisted and dread washed over me. "Well, well, look at her," the driver said, his voice filled with cruel amusement. He moved closer, and I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The taller man grinned, his eyes raking over me. "You didn't tell me she was t

ERICA The dressing room smelled of cheap perfume and stale cigarettes. It wasn't a smell you ever got used to, no matter how long you worked here. My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, a hollow version of myself I barely recognized anymore. A week had passed since I was discharged from the hospital, and here I was, back to this. Back to dancing for men who saw me as nothing more than a fleeting fantasy. It was another long, soul-draining night. I adjusted the straps of my skimpy outfit, the sequins scratching against my skin. The music from the club thudded faintly through the walls, a relentless reminder of the world I had to step into. "Erica!" Ray, the club manager, poked his head into the dressing room. His face was pinched, his voice sharp as always. "Raffael sent for you.“ My stomach clenched. Raffael. Just hearing his name made my pulse race and my skin crawl with a confusing mix of fear and... something else I didn't want to name. Why would he send for me now

ERICA The tension in the air felt suffocating as I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It had been over thirty minutes since Raffael had ordered me upstairs, and I had obeyed like a scolded child. Now, thirst clawed at my throat, the dryness an excuse to leave this room that felt more like a prison with every passing second. But I hesitated. What if Raffael was still downstairs? He’d told me to go to my room, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react if he saw me wandering around. I hated the thought of facing him—his dark eyes filled with whatever storm brewed behind them. Still, I reasoned with myself, I couldn’t stay in here forever. It was just water. If he asked, I’d explain. Simple. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of conversation coming from downstairs. As I walked cautiously, the murmur of voices grew louder. Passing by the door to Raffael’s study, I paused. The door

ERICA The mop’s handle felt rough against my palm as I wrung out the damp cloth for the third time. I had been scrubbing the tiles in Raffael’s bedroom for almost half an hour, and the smell of disinfectant clung to my skin. My body ached from the punishment he had given me yesterday, the heat of the sun still haunting my memory. I could still feel the prickling sensation on my knees, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw his cold, unbothered expression as he told me to stay there until he decided I’d had enough. “Just focus,” I muttered to myself, trying to push the thoughts aside. The room was unnervingly spotless. His black bedsheets were always tucked in with military precision. His furniture gleamed under the soft glow of the overhead light. Even the air carried his scent—a mix of musk and cedarwood that felt suffocating. Cleaning his room felt like walking on thin ice; everything about him was sharp, calculated, and terrifying. I moved to the counter near the far wall, wipi