It was very rare for Talana to go out with her colleagues. Tonight, she had promised to join them at the club.
Later that evening, the soft glow of neon lights flickered outside the bar as Talana smoothed down her short red, strappy mini dress, black stockings, and a pair of short heel black shoes. As she entered, they beckoned her in their direction. Using their signal, she began walking over to them only to stop dead in her tracks. She felt it, someone's eyes roving over her, the intensity of a strong, dominant male’s gaze. Trying to ignore it, she proceeded to the group. Too late, he was seated just before her table. Massimo Morelli was looking at her with an intensity she had never felt before. As she passed by his eyes, we’re eating her up. His taut muscles visible flexed beneath his snug T-shirt and tattoos that snaked along his arms. His sharp jaw-line and smouldering blue eyes beheld an intensity that made the air around him feel heavier. As theycwere throwing back their drinks, instantly the noise faded into the background as the presence of a male approached their table. "Care to dance?" he leaned over and whispered in Talana's ear. Her heart beat faster at the sound of this male husky voice. As she looked up, her expression froze. It was him, the guy that had been watching her, a slow, confident smile spread across his chiselled face. "Well?" he asked, waiting on a response. "Go," one of the doctors nudged her under the table. "Okay," Talana responded reservedly. Holding out his hand, he guided her to the dance floor. The moment he stepped closer, his scent, a mixture of Old Spice and something uniquely him, enveloped her. They moved to the rhythm, and the world around them fell into a haze as she lost herself in the moment. Spinning her around, he pulled her closer into him, their bodies melding into a perfect harmony of excitement and danger. “I'm Max.” His lips curled at the edges, making her weak in the knees. “You come here often?” “I'mTalana and no,” she said, biting her lip bottom lip. “It’s a first. Tonight was a rare treat.” “I know who you are doc! But yes, a treat indeed,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with something she couldn’t quite identify, something mystifying. “You should have more nights like this.” His tone was laced with some magnetic. "hmmmm," she responded. The music kept on pulsating. Talana was lost in the moment. As the music changed, Talana removed herself from the dance floor and headed back to her table. Grabbing her drink, the rest looked on in awe. "Oh my goodness, he's like a god," the one doctor said. Talana was trying to catch her breath when, "Mr. Max wants you to join him at his table," his authoritative voice commanded. "I'm out with friends," she responded aloof and cool. "Doc, how often do you get a guy like that hitting on you," they urged her. Giving them the skank eye, she relented and went over to his table, but not before saying she would make it up to them. Over at Max's table, she excused herself, going to the ladies' room. Max knew who she was, for years, he had desired her. As Talana was about to exit the ladies, a door pushed open, forcing her to the side. "missy!" the man said, his breath wreaking of old alcohol and cigarettes mixed with the scent of new. his face having a covering over it. Pushing her back inside, he forced her against the wall. "Such a fucking whore! I'll teach you a lesson!" he grabbed her inner thigh pushing his hand upwards to her pleasure point, Talana screamed for help. Sensing something was wrong, he went towards the ladies room, then a scream bellowed. "Angel!" his chest clamped tight. He didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open he pulled the male away from Talana. "I'll kill you, you piece of shit!" he screamed hitting the man across the face full force with a fist. Grabbing Talana he said in a gentle, calm tone, nothing like she had just experienced when he went at the assailant, "Are you okay Angel? Did that bastard hurt you or violate you?" "I'm okay," she stammered, all shaken from the experience. He wrapped her in his embrace, “It’s alright, angel, I’m here for you.” This meant war, Talana was meant to be his woman, but first, she would need to know her background. As they walked, she noticed him with a cigarette in hand. "You smoke!" she stated. "Why? don't you like it, angel?" he smirked. Truth was he only smoked when he had been drinking. "Not at all," she responded. She had also noticed the smell on him when they danced. "I'll keep that in mind," he responded, his lips at the sides curled upwards. As they entered the private room, she asked, "What's this?" "This, angel, is the V I P room. Here I can see everything that goes on," he explained as he led her to a window and stood behind her, pressing his hard torso hauntingly against her supple body. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but after the experience a few minutes back, he backed down. "Max," she said as she wiggled out from his embrace. "Relax angel," he answered, "you're safe with me. I promise I will not do anything to harm you or violate your trust in me." Talana didn't know what to make of this. She'd never even been with a guy. "What made you come here?" he asked curiously, "You're different from all the others that come here." "Different? How?" she asked, standing by the window looking out over the club scene below. "You're more sophisticated. I take you for someone who loves the opera, art galleries, and quiet dinners," he observed her reaction. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" she laughed softly. "I don't need charm angel, I call it as I see it," he said. "See those girls down there, they're here every week, flirting, dancing, and kissing any guy that gives them attention." "Jeez," she said. "You angel, don't belong in a place like this, but you do belong up here with me," he smirked at her. Gently tugging her away from the window, he guided her over to one of the plush couches. Handing her a glass, he said, "Drink, it will calm your nerves after what just happened." Accepting the glass she sipped on the neat whisky and ice, a warm burning sensation glided down the back of her throat, hitting her stomach with a warmth. A wisp of hair fell out of place, Massimo reached out and brushed it way gently, softly gazing into her eyes as his thumb grazed her bottom lip. "Come dance with me again, angel!" his tone, more fervent. For some reason, Talana felt comfortable with him. She felt she could trust him. Her body didn't shudder to repel him the way it did with the assailant in the ladies' room earlier. Pulling her down to the dance floor, he moved his body closer, pulling her tighter into him as the vibe of the music slowed down. His hands rested on her hips lightly as he effortlessly guided her, leaving her breathless. "You're good at dancing," she commended as he twirled her in his arms. "Angel, I'm good at a lot of things," he replied as his lips curved into a wicked grin, pulling her closer to him. As they moved closer, Massimo said, "Angel, you are playing with fire!" he smirked as he bent his head and kissed her forehead. As the song ended, he twirled her one last time as her back leaned against his chest, pressing close to him. "You're trouble, angel," he murmured, sending a shiver down her spine at the nickname he had given her. "And you're not?" she shot back. "I'm the kind of trouble you will never forget, the kind you don't take home,” he chuckled low and deep. Early hours of the morning - "I need to leave," Talana said as she checked the time on her phone. Massimo didn't like the idea of her leaving the club alone and decided to escort her to her car. Taking her soft, defined hand in his strong, firm calloused hand, his thumb rubbed over its back, igniting something deep inside. "Let me at least get you to your car, angel. After everything you've been through tonight. I need to know you will be safe out of here. Talana didn't reject his offer. Instead , he warmly accepted it. As they got to the car, he pushed her back against it. His body was hard pressed against hers. His warm breath hovering just above her lips, as his hand reached for her face, his thumb again grazing her lips. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice a rough caress against her soft skin. Talana stood there, mesmerised by Max. Her lips parted, but not a sound escaped. "Angel, tell me to stop because once I start, there will be no holding back. I can barely control myself now,” he said again. Her body responded before her mind to tell her to resist. Her fingers curled into the silk fabric of his shirt, gripping him, silently begging him not to stop. Was it the alcohol that untamed the uaually very controlled and calm Doctor Fabrizio? Max’s lips captured hers, slow but possessive. A kiss that burned, setting her on fire. He pulled her closer, deepening the intensity, tasting, and exploring every ounch of her mouth. Max's hands explored the contours of her body as her back arch, her body moulding into his. His one hand clasping the back of her nape, angling her her head as he deepened their kiss. His other hand gripped her dress as though he wanted to rip it off. His mouth left her lips, trailing the side of her neck just below her ear. "Angel," he growled. Talana let out a sultry moan as he pulled her tighter, allowing her to feel the full hardness of his arouressing against her. Heat coiled within her moistening the region between her thighs. His hands trailed still lower, slipping under the hem of her dress as his fingers ghosted across the skin of her inner thigh teasing her. "Fuck angel," he rasped, "you have no idea what you're doing to me!" Talana trembled under his touch, a feeling within her; a flame she'd never felt before. "Don't," she cried. Those words nearly undid him. "You're so wet for me, angel." And just like that, just as she felt herself unravelling for him, Max stopped. With a force, he pulled away. Both were left breathless and wanton. "No, not like this, angel " he rasped, "not when I want to take my time with you. Make you feel every igniting desire. Not when I need you too freaking much." "Get in the car," he ordered, his voice strained with desire. "Please angel, before I forget that I'm trying to be a gentleman. Soon, soon I will make you mine," he muttered.Two years later.The first rays of dawn cut across the Tangier skyline, gilding the fortified Sanchiano villa with a light so sharp it seemed to carve the world into clarity. Talana stood at the highest balcony, wind whipping her dark hair across her face. The ocean stretched endlessly before her, a living mirror of possibility and peril. Two years had passed since the chaos of Project Lazarus and the final battles that had rewritten the map of global crime and power. Yet here she was, unbroken, unbowed, a living testament to survival and control.She ran her fingers across the balcony’s cold iron railing, feeling the smooth burn of the paint beneath her palm. Her mind wandered briefly, not to revenge, not to war, but to what they had created. Empire was not just property, wealth, or influence, it was trust, loyalty, and a network strong enough to resist betrayal, and the Sanchiano-Morelli line was now intertwined like never before.Massimo approached sile
The Mediterranean sun spilled gold over the Tangier skyline, painting the city in hues of warmth and promise. From the balcony of a low, fortified villa, Talana leaned against the stone railing, the wind tugging at her hair. Below, the markets hummed with life, the scent of spices, sea salt, and bread mingling in the morning air. For the first time in over a decade, she felt something like peace, not the hollow calm after a storm, but the quiet of a life reclaimed.Massimo emerged from the study behind her, dressed in crisp linen, the kind that spoke of leisure rather than war. His presence was a tether, grounding her to the moment.“You’re staring at the horizon like we own it,” he said, sliding his hands around her waist.Talana leaned back against him, her hand resting over the subtle swell of her belly. “We do,” she said softly. “In a way, we really do.”Massimo chuckled, resting his chin atop her head. “And in another way, we still have more
The world outside the hospital had turned into something Talana barely recognized. Flashbulbs lit the pavement, burning brighter than the Mediterranean sun. Reporters shouted her name, microphones shoved forward like daggers. The air was electric with both adoration and venom.She stepped out slowly, black sunglasses hiding the burn scars still healing along her cheek. Her body ached with each movement, ribs strapped tight, shoulder bound, but she moved like steel anyway. A living symbol. A woman who had walked through fire and crawled out still breathing.Massimo’s hand hovered at her lower back, close enough to catch her if she faltered, but careful not to overshadow her presence. Lorenzo flanked her other side, his predator’s eyes sweeping the crowd for the slightest twitch, the smallest threat. Mariano and Sanchiano men formed a wall of muscle behind them.The press screamed questions:“Dona Fabrizio, are you afraid for your life?”“Do you
The stench of antiseptic clung to the air, sharp and biting, drowning out the faint perfume of roses that Massimo had demanded the nurses place at Talana’s bedside. The contrast felt obscene, almost mocking, the sweetness of beauty against the charred remnants of her skin. She lay propped against crisp hospital sheets, her dark hair tangled and scorched at the ends, the right side of her face swathed in gauze that peeked blood at the edges.Massimo had not left her side. Not once. He sat slouched in a steel chair, his black shirt ripped open at the collar, eyes bloodshot but burning with something primal, rage, fear, love all braided into one rope wound so tight it looked ready to strangle him. His hand clutched hers, thumb stroking her knuckles as if the act alone could tether her to this world.“Don’t fucking move again like that,” he rasped, his voice broken gravel. “Don’t you ever, ever, throw yourself into the fire for me. You hear me, Talana?”Her li
The storm over Reykjavik was a black maw, swollen clouds split open by veins of white lightning that lit the icy plain like the wrath of old gods. The helicopters cutting through that storm carried two kinds of blood: law and lawlessness.Interpol’s insignia glittered faintly on their fuselages, but the true teeth inside were not their agents, it was Isla with her fire-bright eyes and Aria strapped down with wires feeding into her skull, fighting her own seizures as if she were a living conduit between life and machine.Talana’s world smelled of smoke, blood, and gasoline. Calabria burned in her bones. Every heartbeat was war. Every breath was sharpened glass.Inside the ghe lab the neural server lab was buried in the volcanic rock, a concrete bunker guarded by men with De Marco’s ghost sigil stitched on their Kevlar. Isla led the breach like a woman who had already signed her name in blood. Two silenced pistols in her hands, she cut the first line of guar
Talana’s nails raked down his back as though she could carve answers into his skin. Massimo didn’t flinch, he welcomed the sting. His mouth claimed hers again, rougher now, and he tasted the raw edge of her fury in every bite of her lips. The storm between them wasn’t meant to be gentle. It was meant to consume.Her thighs locked around his waist as he lifted her, slamming her back against the nearest wall. The picture frames rattled; the plaster cracked. Talana moaned into his mouth, her voice breaking between rage and hunger.“You should have told me!” she hissed, dragging his hair back so his eyes met hers. “You should have...”“kept you safe,” he growled, thrusting his hips against her, the heat between them burning away reason. “That’s all I’ve ever done, Talana. Even if it meant carrying sins that weren’t mine.”She tried to answer, but his hand closed around her throat, not crushing, but claiming. Her lips parted, trembling between defiance and surrender. The pressure forced he