The Mafia Son

The Mafia Son

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WpMetadataReadConcluida jue, jul 20, 20232h 59m
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Ficción
Romance
~"SHE HAS SEEN TO MUCH DOM!" He shouted in Italian. "WE... we can't just let her walk and snitch us out to the cops! We have to end her too!" "No! No I... I can make sure she won't talk, WITHOUT killing her!" I sissed back in English as I looked over at her. Her arms were tugged back by some of my dads men, strains of her curly blond hair were sticked to her face by her tears. It looked weird in combination with her flower patterned dress that she wore for our night out. "You won't have to put in al that effort if I just shoot her right now, we can hide the body and act as if nothing happened!" "SHUT UP!" I cried out. "You're my borther Dante! Do you still not see that I love her?"
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"They say you're innocent, pure, a virgin-but I know you touch yourself every single day, thinking of me." Her back arched instinctively against me. Breath caught. "L-Lucian, I..." she whispered, trembling, hands clutching at me as if to push me away. I smirked darkly. "Cat got your tongue, gattina? Tell me... do you dream of me every night?" "I... I don't..." she stammered, heat crawling up her neck, her body betraying her despite the words. My smirk deepened. "So... if I slip a finger under your dress, you're telling me it's not soaked underneath?" Her gasp, sharp and unguarded, made my chest tighten. Knees threatening to buckle, every shiver, every ache-utterly exposed. I leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "You're mine, gattina. Don't you forget it." ⸻ Isabella Rose Ledesma, 22, should have had a simple life: nursing school, exams, late-night study sessions with her best friend. She wasn't supposed to be noticed. Not by him. Lucian Dominic Vitale, 25, is whispered about with fear across continents. Cold-blooded, calculated, untouchable. A man who built his empire on violence, who bends the world with nothing but a word-and now, he's set his sights on her. One night, in the quiet shadows of a hospital hallway, he saw her-not just her face, not just her body, but the fire inside her. She didn't know it then, but that night, she became his-his weakness, his obsession, his possession. Even when he disappears without a trace, leaving only the memory of ice-blue eyes and ruthless control, Isabella realizes men like Lucian don't vanish. They haunt. They follow. They claim. Across cities, across oceans, he watches every move she makes-every stolen smile, every soft gasp, every secret thought. Lucian doesn't just want her heart. He wants her mind. Her body. Her soul. And when he comes back, Isabella will learn the truth: You don't run from the devil once he calls you his kitten. You kneel.

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