Novel-novel oleh Sewa pen

The room was dim when they dragged Williams in. The curtains were drawn, the chandelier above them casting a lazy golden hue on Adrian’s face as he sat in silence, the ice in his glass melting slower than his patience.“Where is Scarlett?” Adrian asked calmly, swirling the liquid in his tumbler.Williams’s hands were trembling slightly, eyes darting to Tony standing by the wall with arms crossed.“I—I don’t know where she is, Mr. Adrian. She didn’t come to my place or the office. I’ve been calling her for days, but she’s not answering. I swear,” he said, voice shaking, fear seeping through every syllable.Adrian offered a thin smile. “You hired her, didn’t you? That means you must’ve had her employment file. Home address. References.”Williams nodded quickly, fumbling with his phone. “Yes. Yes. I—I have it here.”He pulled up a contact card and handed it over. Tony leaned in and squinted at the screen, then his brow furrowed.“This is Lucas’s address,” Tony muttered.Adrian’s head tur

That night, the Moretti estate didn’t sleep. The chandeliers were still glowing past midnight. The air smelled of burnt tobacco, gun oil, and spilled brandy. Adrian was in the drawing room—his sanctuary turned battlefield—shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, knuckles bruised. An untouched steak bled onto fine china. He hadn’t touched it. Couldn’t. Not when his entire empire was searching, but no one had answers.The glass in his hand trembled slightly, not from fear—he didn’t know fear—but from restraint. Barely contained fury. Another one of his men stepped in, face drawn.“We checked every checkpoint between here and the coast,” the man reported, voice low, wary. “Nothing. No sighting. Not even a whisper.”Adrian downed his drink, eyes vacant.“We bribed a few customs officers. Still nothing,” another said, entering. “It’s like she vanished.”The silence thickened. Then—CRASH.Adrian hurled the tumbler against the marble column. It shattered, spraying glass and whiskey across the f

SCARLETT“Kill me then. It’s better than staying locked in your mansion,” I said flatly.The barrel of the gun met my forehead.I didn’t flinch.But I didn’t expect what came next—Adrian dropped the gun onto the table with a dull thud, grabbed me by the waist, and crashed his mouth against mine.I shoved at his chest, but his grip was iron. Controlling. Desperate.And it wasn’t a kiss.It was a threat wrapped in silk.He kissed like he was claiming something—something he thought already belonged to him.I broke free with a gasp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’re insane.”“Wow,” a cool voice rang behind us. Feminine. Bored. “The love story of a journalist and a mafia lord. Incredible. Someone should write a book.”We both turned at the same time.I froze.Adrian’s jaw tightened.“Isabella,” he said, tone clipped.The woman was stunning. Sculpted features, long dark hair, legs that could make a priest sin. And eyes—cold and calculating. I’d seen her in tabloids years ago

SCARLETT“Put me down!” I shouted, pounding my fists against his back, but Adrian didn’t flinch. Not once.He kicked the door open with one smooth motion, walked into the room like he owned the goddamn world—and me—and dropped me onto the bed.“You’re insane,” I spat, scrambling up.Adrian stood there, calm as ever, loosening his tie like he hadn’t just manhandled me into a locked room. “A night should never feel this long with me?” he repeated, brows raised. “Interesting way to beg for more.”“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I snapped.He shrugged, flicking open the top button of his shirt. “Then say what you mean next time. Clarity is sexy.”I lunged for the door, but he beat me there, hand on the knob. His other hand reached behind him to lock it with a click.“Adrian, don’t do this.”“I’m not doing anything,” he said, voice low. “You’re the one playing games.”I grabbed the vase from the side table and smashed it on the ground between us. The sound of shattering glass fi

SCARLETT“Dad.”Adrian turned slowly, still buttoning his cuff as he faced the doorway of his study. “Lucas.”Lucas stepped inside, jaw tight, hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks. The tension clung to him like a second skin.“About what happened at the gala,” he started.But Adrian cut him off, voice calm but clipped. “She helped us. That journalist helped us. She hurt Vincent’s reputation, and in doing so, she gave me leverage. She’ll be useful.”Lucas exhaled hard through his nose. “Dad, I wanted to tell you something, but you’re not letting me speak. That journalist is my ex-girlfriend.”Adrian paused. His fingers stilled at the final button.“She’s the one?”Lucas nodded once. “Scarlett Hayes.”Adrian didn’t respond right away. He poured himself a drink instead—neat, no ice—and took a slow sip, eyes narrowing on the amber liquid like it held the answers.Lucas stepped forward. “We were together for three years. She was going to move in with me. I was going to prop

SCARLETT“Don’t scare the young girl.”The voice cut through the tension like a blade.I turned.Adrian Moretti.He moved like he owned the air itself—measured, calm, but laced with quiet warning. His black suit was crisp, collar open like he didn’t give a damn about protocol, only power.Vincent sighed, then raised his hand lazily, fingers twitching toward his guard. I caught the motion. A silent signal to draw a weapon. Kill me.Right there. In front of everyone.But Adrian stepped between us before the trigger could even be teased.“Vincent,” he said smoothly, not raising his voice, “people are watching. And let’s not forget, this gala is for everyone. Don’t spill blood on the velvet.”Vincent’s eyes lingered on mine. Cold. Calculating.Then he turned without a word and walked away, his entourage dissolving into the shadows behind him. Like wolves slinking off to wait for the next opening.Just like that, the gala resumed.Fake smiles returned. Champagne clinked. Someone laughed to