TrishChavez_
Eleanor Bennett spent forty years making herself small enough not to be noticed.
Too late.
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Caterina has her pinned to the mattress, one hand braced beside her head, unhurried, like she has all the time in the world and intends to use every second of it.
"Oh, God." Eleanor's voice comes out shaking, breathless.
"Don't." Caterina's mouth curves, but her eyes don't. "I don't particularly care to hear his name in my bed, Eleanor." She leans down, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice dropping into something low and precise. "I want to hear mine."
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A black rose on her pillow.
No note, no thorn...
...just a warning she can't explain and can't stop having.
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Dre's got her back against the brick, fingers curled gentle and unyielding around Eleanor's chin, tilting her face up.
"Tell me to stop." Low. Rough. "I'll stop."
Eleanor's breathing goes shallow, trembling under that grip. "W- What if I can't?"
"Then I'll fuckin' ruin you." Dre said softly, like a promise instead of a threat.
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Caterina Moretti has been watching her for years and calls it devotion.
Andrea Whitfield has been trying not to fall for a married woman and losing badly.
One is old-money violence in silk and diamonds - a mafia princess with a knife named Kitten and a private list of everything Eleanor's ever loved. The other is Brownsville steel wrapped around a soft heart she'd never admit to having - a woman who kills the men who hurt women like Eleanor, one debt at a time.
Both of them want her.
Eleanor Bennett just has to survive finding out which one gets to keep her.
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🔞 dark romance · morally gray leads · explicit content · canon-typical abuse · reader discretion advised