Masuk"I hate you," she whispered—breathless, furious, aching. "I hate you more," he growled back. And then he made her forget every man who came before him. Rhaena thought she knew what was missing from her life—until her boyfriend called her boring. Two years together, and she had never once felt truly wanted. Done with shame, done with pretending, she makes a decision that will unravel everything: one night, one stranger, an exclusive masked club where no one knows her name. The masked man who finds her there doesn't just make her feel wanted. He ruins her—for every other man, for every careful, curated version of herself she's ever performed. But when she leaves, a message arrives: her reservation was cancelled. According to the club, she was never there. So who was he? Before she can make sense of it, her mother drops another bomb—she's engaged. There's a dinner. A mansion. A future stepbrother named Alessio, who looks at Rhaena like she's a problem he wants to destroy. Cold. Hostile. Magnetic in a way that makes her teeth ache. When she overhears him cutting her apart with words, she doesn't run. She fights back. And something ignites between them—sharp as a blade, impossible to ignore—something neither of them is willing to name. Because the line between hatred and desire isn't just thin. It's already been crossed. What happens when Rhaena realizes the masked man from that night is her future stepbrother? What happens when Alessio discovers that the woman he can't stand is Cherry—the one he can't stop thinking about? Some secrets don't stay buried. And some hatreds are just love that hasn't lost control.
Lihat lebih banyakRhaena’s POV
“You’re too boring in bed.”
That was the excuse the man I loved for two years gave me when I caught him cheating.
I had come home early that day, heart full, smiling like an idiot. I wanted to surprise him. It was our anniversary. I even imagined his face lighting up when he saw me. I thought we would laugh, maybe open a bottle of wine, maybe finally feel close again.
Instead, I walked into a nightmare.
There he was.
Jake. My boyfriend. In our bed.And he wasn’t alone.
There were girls with him. Two of them. Bare skin everywhere. Clothes thrown across the floor like none of it mattered. The room smelled wrong, heavy and intimate, like I had stepped into something I was never meant to see.
His hand was still on one of them when I walked in. Like he didn’t even care.
It took me a moment to breathe. To speak. My throat felt tight, like the words were stuck.
“Boring?” I finally said, my voice shaking. “You’re calling me boring?”
“Yes,” he replied, shrugging like this was no big deal. “I mean, look at them.” He pointed at the girls like they were proof. Like they were objects.
Something inside me broke.
“You couldn’t even make me come once,” I shot back. “Not once, Jake. In two whole years.”
His face turned red right away. “That’s not—”
“No,” I snapped. “Don’t interrupt me. You blamed stress. You blamed timing. You blamed me. And now you’re standing here calling me boring?”
I laughed, but it sounded ugly and sharp. “With that pencil dick?”
The room went silent.
Jake clenched his jaw. “That’s real mature.”
I stared at him. “You want to talk about maturity?” I said. “You’re naked in front of your girlfriend and two random girls, and I’m the immature one?”
I turned to the girls then. They looked awkward, uncomfortable, not nearly as confident as before.
“He’s paying you, right?” I asked.
One of them frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Because there’s no way,” I continued, my voice shaking with anger, “there’s no way he’s actually satisfying anyone. If you’re moaning, you’re faking it. Trust me. I did it for years.”
“Rhaena, that’s enough,” Jake snapped.
“No,” I said, glaring at him. “What’s enough is you humiliating me, lying to me, and then acting like I’m the problem.”
My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
“You’re not exciting,” I said quietly. “You’re selfish. And this?” I waved at the room. “This is the most honest thing you’ve ever done.”
I stepped back toward the door, my whole body shaking.
“We’re done, Jake. Don’t call me. Don’t text me.”
He scoffed. “You’ll regret this.”
I paused, my hand on the door handle, and looked back at him one last time.
“No,” I said. “The only thing I regret is wasting two years on someone who never deserved me.”
Then I walked out.
With a broken heart.
And trust I knew would take a long time to fix.The days that followed were slow and heavy. I barely left my room. I cried until my eyes hurt and my chest felt tight, like it was hard to breathe. I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, replaying everything over and over, trying to find where I went wrong.
I asked myself the same questions again and again.
What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough?I had been a good girlfriend. I knew I had. I was loyal. I listened. I stayed when things got hard. I tried to be understanding even when I felt ignored. I had done everything right. Or at least, everything I thought I was supposed to do.
I had tried so hard not to end up like my mother.
She had been married four times already. Each marriage ended faster than the one before it. I remembered growing up watching her fall in love, then fall apart. I promised myself I would be different. Careful. Smarter. I told myself that if I did everything right, love would stay.
I really thought Jake was the one.
But I was wrong.
He had shown me who he really was, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit. Maybe Mum was right after all. Maybe love wasn’t real. Maybe it was just a fairytale people told themselves so they wouldn’t feel so alone.
After days of crying and feeling sorry for myself, something inside me snapped. I couldn’t stay like this forever. I was tired of feeling weak. Tired of hurting.
I grabbed my phone and opened G****e. My fingers hesitated for a second before I typed, ways to get over a heartbreak.
So many results popped up. Articles. Advice. Quotes that all sounded the same.
Then one link caught my eye.
Are you tired of hiding your desires?
I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry all of a sudden. The answer was yes. It came too fast, before I could stop it or talk myself out of it. I didn’t even have to think.
Before I could change my mind, I clicked the link.
The page loaded slowly, and then I saw it for what it was. An escort website.
Heat rushed to my face and I felt myself blush, even though I was alone in my room. My eyes skimmed the screen, taking in the pictures, the words, the promises. My heart started beating faster, and panic mixed with curiosity in my chest.
“No,” I whispered to myself. “I’m not doing this.”
I exited the site quickly and dropped my phone onto the bed like it had burned me. I stared at the ceiling, trying to calm down, telling myself that was ridiculous. That this wasn’t me. That I would never do something like that.
But the thought wouldn’t leave.
The website sat in my mind like a siren’s call, quiet but persistent. The words echoed again. Hiding your desires.
My fingers twitched. My chest felt tight. Before I could stop myself, I picked up my phone again.
And I opened the site once more.
Thank you.That's really all I want to say, but it doesn't feel like enough. You stayed with Rhaena and Alessio through every twist and every hard-won moment. You cried with them. You got angry for them. You rooted for them even when the world tried to keep them apart. This book exists because you kept reading. I hope their story gave you everything you needed.If you loved this one, please check out my other books. There's more forbidden love and slow-burn romance waiting for you.And watch out, because I'm not done. Coming soon: ON ICE: Pucking My Ex Best Friend's Stepbrother — a new secret romance full of tension you won't want to put down.Thank you for reading. Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do.Until the next book,Nancy Grey 🖤
Alessio's POVI used to think love was a lie people told each other until it became inconvenient to keep telling it. I built an entire life around that belief without even realizing I'd done it — every wall, every careful distance, every promise to myself that I would never be the man standing in a doorway watching someone he loved decide he wasn't worth staying for. I watched my mother walk away when I was twelve years old, and I decided, with the particular certainty only a child can manage, that I would never again let anyone hold that kind of power over me.Then Rhaena appeared, and every rule I'd built my life around started quietly falling apart, piece by piece, long before I was willing to admit it.Tonight, standing in the doorway of our kitchen, watching flour dust catch gold in the last of the evening light, watching my father bounce our son on his hip while Rhaena's mother laughs at something Luca has said that none of us can quite decipher, I find it almost impossible to re
Rhaena’s POVI watched the two of them for a moment — Alessio bouncing Luca gently on his hip, murmuring something low and teasing that made our son shriek with laughter, that same easy, unguarded joy that had taken root in this house somewhere over the past three years and never left — and felt that same quiet disbelief settle over me that I still hadn't quite gotten used to. That we'd built this. That some tiny, secret beginning had already been growing inside me the very night we decided, half-terrified and half-hopeful, to stay in Italy for good, as if some part of the universe had made up its mind about our future before we'd even finished choosing it ourselves."How was Milan?" I asked, wiping my hands on a dish towel and stepping closer to press a kiss to Alessio's jaw, the only part of him not currently covered in flour."Long," he admitted, tilting his head to catch my mouth properly instead, quick and warm. "But better, now that I'm here."Luca, apparently unwilling to be le
Rhaena’s POVThree Years LaterThe kitchen smelled like tomatoes and basil and the faint sweetness of the bread I'd left rising on the counter that morning, and I was elbow-deep in flour, laughing at myself for the mess I'd already made, when Luca toddled over from where he'd been "helping" me stack measuring cups into a very unstable tower, both hands already reaching up toward my leg."Mommy," he said, tugging at my apron, "up.""You've got flour hands," I warned, crouching down anyway despite the mess on my own fingers, scooping him up onto my hip. He was getting heavier by the week, solid and sturdy in a way that still caught me off guard sometimes, like my body hadn't quite finished updating its memory of how big he'd gotten. He immediately grabbed a fistful of my hair and examined it with great seriousness, the way he examined most things these days, like the whole world was a puzzle he'd been personally assigned to solve.He had Alessio's eyes — green, bright, startlingly clear






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