Novels by Naimles A

"Let’s stop wasting each other’s time, yeah? We have a massacre to prep for, and you’re standing here with a spatula."Flyn didn't wait for an answer. He hooked his arm through mine with a strength that belied his slender frame and dragged me out of the kitchen. Cresinta watched us go with wide, silent eyes, still clutching the crystal carafe like a holy relic.We bypassed the grand foyer and headed into a wing of the mansion I hadn't seen yet. Flyn pushed open a set of heavy, white-lacquered double doors, and my breath hitched.It was a cathedral of vanity. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected a room packed with racks of designer silk, velvet, and leather. Rows of glass cases held diamonds that caught the dim morning light like frozen tears. A vanity table the size of a dinner table was covered in every cosmetic known to man.I felt a sudden, sharp pang of jealousy that tasted like ash. 'Is this for Meredith?' I wondered, my heart sinking.'Did he love her this much that he kept her th

The aftermath of the night was draped over every surface—shredded black silk, the lingering, heavy scent of woodsmoke, and the silver mask lying discarded on the plush carpet like a fallen, hollow idol.I lay awake, my eyes tracing the intricate moldings of the ceiling. My body felt heavy, marked by the possessive weight of a man who was, by every legal and biological definition, my father-in-law.I waited for the crushing wave of guilt to suffocate me. I waited for the phantom of Thaddeus to appear in the shadows, pointing a finger at the unfaithful wife who had committed the ultimate sacrilege. But as the minutes ticked by, the only thing I felt was a terrifying, crystalline sense of justice.How could I be unfaithful to a man who had appraised me like livestock? Thaddeus hadn't treated me like a wife; he’d treated me like a piece of inherited furniture he had grown bored of owning. He had sold me to cover a gambling debt, trading my dignity for a seat at a table. In the silence of

"Y-your face? You’re allowing me to see your face?"My voice was a fragile thing, barely a whisper that seemed to die before it could reach the vaulted ceiling of the suite. The air was still thick with the heat of our bodies, but a sudden, ancestral chill began to seep into the room. Maxwell didn't move. He sat on the edge of the bed like a dark, immovable monolith, his hand still hovering near the latch of his mask."I am allowing you to see the truth, Veronica," he rasped, his voice a low vibration that thrummed through the mattress. "But truths are like shadows—the brighter the light you throw on them, the deeper they stain."He didn't take the mask off himself. Instead, he reached out, his large, calloused hand enveloping my trembling fingers. His skin was scorching, a feverish contrast to the freezing silver he forced my hand to touch. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in my chest, each beat echoing the hollow silence of the room."Take it off," he commanded, his grip firm as

The fire was dying, the last of the embers casting a deep, flickering crimson over the black silk of the bed. I lay there, my skin still sensitive from the weight of Maxwell’s body, feeling the heavy thud of the leather folder he had dropped onto the mattress. The heat of our intimacy hadn't even fully evaporated before the cold reality of the law was thrust between us.I reached out, my fingers trembling as I flipped the cover open. The documents inside were sterile, smelling of high-grade bond paper and the sharp, clinical scent of fresh ink. Seeing "Thaddeus Hudson" and "Veronica Marquez" printed on the same line for what I knew would be the last time felt like watching a ghost leave my body. For three years, those names together had been a cage. Now, they were just a smudge of black on a page that Maxwell had bought and paid for."Do you feel peace, Veronica?"Maxwell didn't move. He remained a dark, imposing silhouette at the edge

The fireplace crackled, casting long, flickering shadows across the black-canopied bed as Maxwell laid me onto the cool silk sheets. My body felt weightless, the black robe splaying open to reveal my damp, flushed skin. He stood over me, a dark silhouette against the moonlight, before slowly shedding his own robe. Even in the shadows, he was magnificent—a landscape of hard muscle and powerful lines.He didn't move toward me immediately; he just watched, his silver mask gleaming with a predatory light. The silence in the room was so thick it felt like a physical weight, broken only by the ragged sound of my own breathing."Tonight, Veronica," he rasped, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rattle my very bones, "you forget everything you think you know about being a woman. You forget the hands that didn't want you and the eyes that didn't see you."He moved to the foot of the bed, his large hands gripping my ankles and pulling me toward the edge with a sudden, authoritative jerk.

The massive wrought-iron doors of the Romanov estate groaned open like the jaws of a leviathan, swallowing us into a world of shadowed grandeur. Maxwell stepped out of the rain and into the foyer, his boots echoing against the black marble floors with a rhythmic, heavy finality. I was a broken bird in his arms, shivering and half-naked, the shredded lace of my gown a mockery of the frozen opulence surrounding us."Welcome home, Sir," a chorus of voices whispered in eerie unison.I flinched, burying my face into the crook of Maxwell’s neck as I realized a dozen servants were lined up in the periphery, their heads bowed. They were like marble statues, ghosts in a palace of glass. The shame of being carried like a prize, my skin still smelling of the limousine and his sweat, made my stomach turn."M-Maxwell, please... put me down," I whispered, my voice cracking with a desperate shyness. "They’re all looking... I can walk.""They aren't looking at anything unless I tell them to," he ra

"Let’s go... b-babe."The way the word tumbled out of Gio’s mouth was almost pathetic. It sounded like he’d swallowed a stone and was trying to choke it back up. He didn't wait for me to answer, his hand clamping onto my bicep with a grip that was less romantic partner and more arresting officer.He hauled me toward the grand staircase, his legs moving twice as fast as mine. I had to practically skip to keep up, my sneakers squeaking indignantly against the polished marble. I glanced up, ready to snap at him for the manhandling, but the words died in my throat. Gio was staring straight ahead with a fixated, glass-eyed intensity, his jaw working so hard I thought his teeth might crack.But it was his ears that told the real story—they were a deep, burning crimson, glowing like taillights against his dark hair. The most feared Don in the city was currently short-circuiting because of a four-letter word and a cheek kiss.He dragged me into his private study and slammed the heavy oak doo

The taxi ride back was a blur of rain-streaked windows and the rhythmic thumping of my own heart. I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the city lights dissolve into long, jagged smears of neon. My mind was a battlefield.'Is this right?' I asked myself, the image of my mother’s pale face in the hospital bed flickering behind my eyelids. 'Will this protect us, or am I just building a prettier cage?' Every logical bone in my body told me to run, to take my leave and never look back. But then, the memory of Gio in the office—the way he had whispered Allizander like it was a holy relic—sent a traitorous, warm flutter through my chest. It was a terrifying sensation, a spark of life in a heart I had tried so hard to keep numb.'Fine,' I thought, as the massive wrought-iron gates of the Vitale estate groaned open. 'Let’s just go with the flow. If the world burns tomorrow, at least I’ll know I wasn't just a spectator. I’ll face the wreckage when it comes.'I paid the driver and

I didn't reply to the texts. I couldn't.After I saw his messages—the way he admitted the house felt too quiet without me—sleep became an impossible luxury. I spent the rest of the night staring at the flickering heart monitor, the green line dancing in time with my own frantic pulse. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom weight of his head on my lap. I knew right then that I’d be bothered by his words until the very end of this day. Giovanni Vitale didn't just command a room; he commanded the air in my lungs, even from miles away.As the sun began to bleed through the hospital blinds, turning the sterile white walls into a soft, bruised gold, I stood up and stretched my aching limbs. I leaned down, pressing my forehead against my mother’s knuckles, the skin papery and cool."I have to go, Mom," I whispered, my voice thick with exhaustion. "I’m going to meet Beatriz today. I need to breathe for a second before I go back to my work. I'm

The vibration of his voice against my chest was a physical pull, a gravitational force that threatened to swallow me whole. For a heartbeat, my fingers stayed tangled in his hair, yielding to the sheer, impossible softness of the moment. But then, the reality of the binder tight against my skin and the web of lies between us snapped back into focus.I pushed.It wasn't a gentle nudge. I shoved his shoulders with a frantic strength, scrambling backward until I hit the opposite end of the sofa. My breath was coming in ragged, shallow hitches."Stop," I gasped, my hands trembling as I smoothed down my oversized shirt. "Gio, stop. You’re… you’re exhausted. You’re delirious. You’re playing some kind of twisted game to see how far you can push your medic."Gio sat up slowly, his dark hair messy from my touch, his eyes hooded and tracking my every panicked move. He didn't look angry. He looked steady—terrifyingly steady."I don't play games with

Gio’s head was still heavy in my lap. I sat there, my spine pressed against the leather of the sofa, my hands still hovering in mid-air like they didn't know where they belonged. I looked down, and my heart nearly stopped. He wasn't sleeping. His eyes were wide open, dark and swirling with an intensity that pinned me to the spot. He was staring up at me—not as a boss, not as a predator, but with a raw, unblinking focus that felt like he was trying to peel back the layers of my skin to see the soul beneath.I felt the heat begin to crawl up my neck. My pulse was a frantic drum against my ribs, and I was certain he could feel it through my thighs. The way he looked at me… it was too much. It was too intimate for two men, and far too dangerous for a liar and a mafia boss."Can you… stop looking at me like that?" I croaked, my voice betraying me with a tiny tremble.He didn't blink. He didn't move. He just kept searching my face, his gaze lingering on my jaw, then my nose, then settling

I had spent the remaining hours of the morning tossing and turning, the image of Gio’s knuckles turning white and the weight of his hands on my waist in the gym burned into my brain. I had just managed to stumble into the kitchen, finally pressing a cup of lukewarm coffee to my lips, when the door swung open. Gio looked like he hadn't slept either, but while I was a mess of frayed nerves, he was a pillar of dark energy. Before I could even take a sip, his hand clamped onto my shoulder, steering me toward the garage with the force of a tidal wave. "Hey! Watch the coffee!" I yelped, sloshing the liquid over the rim. "What are you doing? It’s six in the morning!" "You're coming to the headquarters," he barked. No 'please,' no explanation. Just that iron-grip authority. "I’m not going! My contract says 'Medical Professional,' Gio, not 'Personal Shadow.' I have to organize the infirmary back at the estate. The surgical prep alone will take me hours!" I was currently being steered to