MasukShe was supposed to be the thief who stole from his empire. Instead, she became his wife. Arielle Vasquez wakes up bound to Matteo Moretti—a tattooed, ruthless enforcer of the Moretti clan, a bastard son burning with rage and a hunger for validation. Their marriage is a punishment, a cage of suspicion and hate. He sees her as a liar, a liability. She sees him as the enemy who stole her freedom. But the first night changes everything. She gasped as Matteo pinned her against the wall of their wedding suite, his breath hot against her throat, ink-dark eyes devouring her defiance. “You think you can play games with me, little thief?” he growled, his fingers digging into her hips, possessive, punishing. “I’ll break you before you break me.” Arielle lifts her chin, lips brushing his ear in a whisper. “Try it. I dare you.” As secrets unravel and betrayals cut deeper, the line between enemy and obsession blurs. Every touch during late-night raids, every heated argument that ends with her back against a wall and his mouth crashing down on hers, pulls them closer to surrender. But the real danger isn’t the Russians closing in. It’s the heartless man who’s starting to want her more than revenge. And the woman who’s beginning to crave the darkness he offers. In a world built on blood and power, love is the deadliest weapon of all.
Lihat lebih banyakARIELLE’S POVThe next morning, I groaned as my eyes met the light from our window. My body still hummed with unresolved tension, the ache between my thighs was a constant reminder of how Matteo had held me tight but refused to give me what I craved. I had barely slept, tossing and turning against his solid chest, every shift of his body teasing me without relief.He was still asleep beside me, lying on his back, one arm loosely draped over his stomach. The sheet had slipped low on his hips, exposing the hard lines of his abs and the faint trail of dark hair leading down. Even in sleep he looked dangerous. I should have been angry. I was angry. But the sight of him like this, vulnerable for once, only made the heat flare hotter.Quietly, I slid closer. My hand moved first, trailing lightly over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. He didn’t stir. I let my fingers drift lower, slipping beneath the sheet until I wrapped them around his cock. He was already half-hard, th
ARIELLE’S POVMatteo didn't touch me. I stood there, but he did nothing, absolutely nothing. I stormed into the bedroom, my blood still boiling and my body traitorously on fire.The adrenaline from the casino hadn’t faded. If anything, it had twisted into something darker, hotter. My skin felt too tight, my thighs pressed together with every step. Matteo had kissed me like he wanted to devour me, like the rage and the blood and the chaos had stripped us both down to raw need. And then he’d pulled away.He’d fucking pulled away.I yanked off my blood-splattered dress, letting it drop to the floor in a crumpled heap. The cool air hit my bare skin, but it did nothing to calm the ache between my legs. I was wet, throbbing, furious. He had left me hanging after that kiss, after everything that had happened tonight. My nipples were tight, sensitive, and every brush of the sheets against them as I climbed into bed only made it worse.I wanted him. I hated that I wanted him, but the need was
THIRD PERSON POVThe private poker room rose with suffocating tension. No one moved. Arielle sat straight-backed in her chair, face calm, eyes locked on her cards. Matteo stood half-risen behind her, jaw clenched tight. His gaze burned into the side of her head, a silent storm of rage, fear, and that dark, unwilling pride. One wrong flip and she would be spread on this very table for Ivan to claim. The thought alone made his blood boil.Ivan leaned back in his chair, ice-blue eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. A slow, mocking smile curved his lips as he watched Arielle. “Give up now, Arielle,” he drawled, voice thick with a Russian accent and dripping condescension. “One wrong move and I get to wreck you for life.”Laughter erupted around the table. The older Italian players chuckled low and rough, shaking their heads at the audacity of the woman who had dared to sit with them. Ivan’s men joined in, their laughs louder, crueler, already imagining the scene — the beautiful prize bent
MATTEO’S POVIvan’s voice still hung in the air. “Your move, Moretti. Or should I say… hers?” and every gun in the room stayed trained on its target. My finger itched on the trigger of my own piece, half-drawn and ready to paint the walls with Russian blood if anyone so much as breathed wrong.But Arielle didn’t flinch. She sat perfectly still on my lap, the cigar burning low between her fingers, her ass warm, pressed against my cock. I could feel her pulse racing under my palm, yet her voice came out steady, almost amused.“I accept.”The words landed like a fucking grenade.Rage and something worse surged through me. My arm tightened around her waist so hard I knew I’d leave bruises. “Arielle,” I growled low in warning, but she ignored me, leaning forward just enough to set the cigar in the ashtray with deliberate calm.“I want Ivan’s fingers chopped off if I win,” she said clearly, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “All of them. One by one. Right here.”A stunned beat of si
ARIELLE’S POVMatteo pulled away from me slowly, his breathing as ragged as mine. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust. For a second I thought he would ignore the phone and keep going, pin me harder against the glass and finally give in.But he didn’t.He stepped back, jaw clenched tigh
MATTEO’S POV I stared down at her, my fingers still wrapped around her slender throat. Her pulse hammered wildly against my palm. Those defiant eyes of hers dared me even as fear flashed across her face. “Then do it… Matteo.” Her voice came out shaky, but she lifted her chin higher. “I dare you.
THIRD PERSON'S POV The living room felt smaller now, the silence was suffocating as Yvonne pointed her gun at them. Yvonne's nine-millimeter didn't waver. The barrel stayed locked on Lydia's chest like it had a personal grudge against her. "Apologize," she repeated. "Or I start redecorating. S
Arielle’s POVThe next morning arrived too quickly. I moaned softly as my eyes fluttered open, the sheets tangled around my legs. The room was quiet, too quiet. It dawned on me that Matteo was gone. I sat up, frowning at the empty side of the bed. That man is something else. One minute he’s kill






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