Stolen
- Reads 2,054
- Votes 88
- Parts 9
Ongoing1h 56m
Last published Sun, Apr 17, 2022
At the age of 22, Shay Vera became wanted in every country. A thief with 5.2 million dollars to show for in precious jewels, artifacts, and art ... Shay was living the life of royalty. But when a seemingly easy job goes terribly wrong, and Shay finds her services being employed by the mafia, she starts to suspect this next run... could very well be her last.
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In an instant, his hand wrapped around my wrist and he yanked me into his chest, his other hand snapping the gun out of mine with brutish strength.
I could no longer control my breathing. His cold eyes stared into me with nothing but hatred, and I imagined, at that moment, mine must have reciprocated the look.
"You, my dear are playing with fire... cross me one more time... and you won't live to regret it."
"I'm not scared of you." I forced the words out through clenched teeth. But I'm pretty sure my body was shaking...and for more reasons than one.
A sly smile wrapped across his handsome features, a dry sort of chuckle escaping his lips.
"Well, then you're even more idiotic than I thought because you damn well should be."
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*All credit for the images used in this book goes to their respective owners. No copyright intended. Message me for direct credit*
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When my family owes The Don of The Italian Mafia money that they don't have; how do they repay him? The answer, an arranged marriage. With whom? The youngest daughter, of course. Who is the youngest? Me. Isabella Morello. My life wasn't always rainbows and a field of flowers on a sunny day. But, I thought I meant more to my family than this. Who do I have to marry? The net heir of the Italian Mafia. I thought I would find love on my own. I thought I would marry the love of my life. I thought a lot of things by my life isn't a book and this isn't a fairytale. I have to abide by my parents' arrangement; even if it means I lose my heart to the Devil himself. He's arrogant, cruel, heartless, but under his cold exterior there has to be a soul inside, right? Will I have my hert intact or will his coldness shatter it in the process? Will this be a tattered love or a love that could last? Will he ever love me, that's the real question. "ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ'ᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ; ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ; ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ'ꜱ" -ᴀʟᴇꜱꜱɪᴏ ɢʀᴇᴄᴏ "𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍." -𝙸𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘
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