Mafia Girl's Journey

Chapter 23: Haunting Desires

Amara’s POV:

I’ve always prided myself on my strength, on my ability to maintain control no matter what chaos swirls around me. But ever since that night with Marco, it feels like the ground beneath my feet has been shifting, slipping away bit by bit, leaving me standing on the edge of something I’m not sure I want to face.

Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I feel his touch, his breath hot against my skin, and it takes everything in me to shake the memories away, to focus on the reality of the world we live in. But it’s getting harder—so much harder.

The days are filled with distractions—meetings, training sessions, managing the never-ending tasks that come with being a Rossi. I throw myself into the work, hoping it will drown out the thoughts of Marco that creep into my mind when I least expect it. But no matter how much I try to focus, he’s always there, a ghost lingering at the edges of my consciousness.

Tonight, as I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I feel a restlessness settle over me, a gnawing need that refuses to be ignored. The room is dark and quiet, the house still, but inside me, a storm is brewing, one I’ve been fighting to keep at bay.

I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, to find peace in the quiet of the night. But as soon as I do, the images begin to flood my mind—images of Marco, of the way he looked at me with such intensity, such raw desire.

I’m back in that garden, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the marble bench where we sat. Marco is there, his presence as magnetic as ever, drawing me to him with an irresistible pull. He reaches for me, his hand warm against my skin, and I can’t resist the urge to lean into him, to let myself be consumed by the heat of his touch.

His lips brush against mine, tentative at first, but then the kiss deepens, growing more urgent, more demanding. My body responds instinctively, a spark of desire igniting deep within me, spreading like wildfire until it’s all I can feel, all I can think about.

In that moment, in the passion that flares between us. His hands explore my body, tracing the curves of my hips, the dip of my waist, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes my lips as his touch leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

“Amara,” he whispers against my ear, his voice rough with need. “I can’t stay away from you.”

The words send a shiver down my spine, a mix of pleasure and pain that cuts through me like a knife. I want him—God, how I want him—but I also know how dangerous this is, how dangerous he is. And yet, in this dream, I don’t care. I let myself drown in the sensation, in the feel of his hands on me, his lips trailing down my neck, my shoulders, lower still…

I’m gasping for breath, my heart pounding in my chest as the intensity of it all overwhelms me. It’s as if I’m on fire, burning from the inside out, and Marco is the only one who can quench the flames.

But just as I’m about to surrender completely, the dream shifts, darkens, and I’m suddenly aware of the cold reality that awaits me when I wake. I pull away, the fear of what this could mean, what it already means, washing over me like a bucket of ice water.

I wake with a start, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The sheets are tangled around me, damp with sweat, and I can still feel the phantom touch of Marco’s hands on my skin, the echo of his words in my ear.

For a moment, I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing, trying to push the remnants of the dream away. But it lingers, the desire, the need that’s been simmering beneath the surface, refusing to be ignored.

I sit up, pushing the covers aside, and make my way to the window. The night is still and quiet, the moon hanging low in the sky, casting a silver light over the gardens below. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind, but it’s no use. Marco is still there, haunting my thoughts, my dreams, my very soul.

I want to forget him, to push him out of my mind and my heart, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave. The more I fight it, the stronger it becomes, until I’m drowning in it, lost in the depths of my own desire.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes as I try to find some semblance of control, some way to calm the storm that’s raging inside me. But I know it’s a losing battle. No matter how much I try to resist, Marco has become a part of me, a force I can’t escape.

And deep down, in the darkest corners of my mind, I’m not sure I even want to.