All Chapters of The Lie that Binds: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Serena.Sunlight danced on cobbled streets, weaving through arches and glass-paneled rooftops. Milan’s heart beat loud and beautiful, its pulse hidden in alleyways draped with ivy and piazzas that whispered secrets in foreign tongues.Serena walked beside Nadia, her tour guide and the first real friend she’d made in the city. Nadia’s navy hijab caught the wind, her honey-toned skin glowing under the midday sun as she gestured animatedly toward yet another ancient building.“That’s the Santa Maria delle Grazie,” Nadia explained. “It houses The Last Supper. Da Vinci himself painted it.”Serena took it in, eyes scanning the old brickwork, the eternal reverence that seemed to cling to the place. She scribbled something small in her notebook.They had already been to the Duomo Cathedral, the Sforza Castle, the Pinacoteca di Brera gallery, and at least two hidden underground subway murals that looked like something out of a dream. Every turn brought a new layer to the city, a new wonder tha

Serena.She stared at the message long after she hit send.“I miss you too.”She read it again.Then again.What the hell had she just done?She paced across the living room of her condo, arms crossed tight, her brain warring with her heart. It was part of the act. It had to be. She was playing him, deceiving him — he was the enemy, the mark. This was the game. She was winning.Right?Except… why had her fingers trembled as she typed it?Why had her lips curled in a sheepish, reluctant smile when she hit send — like a teenager with a crush?Goddammit, Calista, she scolded herself silently, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. The mirror caught her expression — wide-eyed, flushed, and betraying something dangerously close to… longing.No.It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.She turned on the shower, steam rising around her like a veil, hot water hitting her tense shoulders and loosening the weight of the day. But the heat didn’t ease her thoughts. If anything, it m

“So…” Serena continued, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed beneath her chest, “…are you gonna come in, or are you gonna stand there staring at me all night?”Stefano's lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. And then, he laughed. A soft, deep rumble that seemed to vibrate in the air between them.It was a laugh that did something to her—something dangerous. Her skin prickled. Her breath caught. God, what was that?She moved aside, and he walked in, bringing with him a lingering scent of leather, musk, and smoke. The door clicked shut behind him, and just like that, the world outside ceased to exist.“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, voice calm, masking the tremor she felt deep inside.He didn’t answer immediately. He was busy looking around—taking in the stark yet sensual contrast of her living room. It was minimal, but every piece was chosen with sharp taste. The sage green accents, the clean blacks and whites, the cool marble countertops. It surprised him. Just like he

Infact, he was yet to start.She barely had time to brace herself before she felt him press against her, his tip teasing the entrance of her soaked warmth. Her breath caught again, her entire nerves tensing with anticipation. Then—he pushed in.Slowly… then fully.Her gasp was instant, sharp and breathless. He filled her completely, as though he had been carved precisely to fit within her. Her hands gripped his arms, her nails digging slightly into his skin. The stretch was deep, the pleasure laced with pain—but it was the kind of pain that made her feel alive.He stilled, just for a moment. Letting her adjust. Letting them both feel the gravity of what was happening.Then—he began to move.Slow at first. Deep and Deliberate.Each stroke was a revelation, a rhythm that made her tremble. Her legs wrapped instictively around his waist, urging him closer, urging him deeper. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, as though this was something they’d done a thousand times in another life.

Marco.Back at the manor, the quiet halls of the De Ricco estate carried an almost eerie stillness. The morning sunlight filtered in through the stained-glass windows, casting colored patterns on the marble floor. But Marco Sanchez wasn’t looking at any of that.He stood by the expansive bay window of the east corridor, unmoving. His arms crossed tightly across his chest as if bracing himself against a storm only he could feel. His jaw ticked, his heart beat hard in his chest—not from adrenaline or fear, but something far more dangerous.Jealousy.Longing.Turmoil.The woman his boss was falling for—the woman who had so easily infiltrated Stefano’s dark, guarded heart—was the same woman who had stolen his breath the moment he saw her.Marco closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but his memories dragged him under.It had been weeks ago. A mundane day, or so he thought. He and a few of the crew had been at the Milan train station, waiting for a delivery that never came. The usual tensio