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Dripping For Him
Last Updated:
2025-06-03 22:39:44
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Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation Thorns
CATALINA They always talk about how power feels—how it tastes, how it dresses itself in velvet and gold. But no one ever talks about the silence that comes with it. The kind of silence that wraps around your neck like silk, until you realize it's a noose.I sat alone in the villa’s upper floor, watching the storm unfold below from the cracked window. The courtyard was a battlefield now. I could hear the gunshots—the bursts of rage and desperation, the metallic thunder of men who came to kill or die trying. The air smelled like blood and gasoline. It reminded me of home.Of the life I was born into.Of the crown I was never supposed to wear.And yet, here I was—queen of what? An empire built on fear, rotting at the center because one girl had walked in and reminded Don Julio that love still existed. Sarian. Even her name sounded soft. A name you’d whisper, not shout. A name that didn’t belong in our world of knives and secrets.But somehow, she had taken everything.Him. His loyalty.
Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation Escaping
SARIAN My body felt like it didn’t belong to me anymore.The pain had settled deep in my bones—quiet but sharp. The ropes had dug into my wrists and ankles, and I could feel dried blood on my skin. I didn’t know how long I had been in this dark room. Hours? Days? Time had become a blur.But I was still breathing.That meant something.The weak light bulb above me flickered. My head ached, and the side of my face was swollen from where one of Catalina’s men had hit me. I tried not to cry anymore—my tears had dried up the night before.I was tired. Cold. Angry.But most of all—I was scared.I had no idea if Julio knew what had happened to me. No idea if anyone cared. Maybe I was going to die in this room. Maybe Catalina would win.I closed my eyes and whispered his name.*Julio…*A sound came from the hallway.Footsteps.I tensed.Not again. Please, not again.The door creaked open slowly, and I squinted, expecting another one of Catalina’s men.But it wasn’t.It was someone else.A ma
Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation I Want Her Back
SIMEON I waited until the house was quiet before I made the call.After the storm that was my father’s rage, the silence felt heavier. It settled in the halls like dust after a gunfight—thick, still, full of something unsaid. The guards were back in their places, pretending not to glance at me, and I didn’t want to talk to any of them. I didn’t want to see anyone.I needed to breathe. To think. To hear her voice and understand what the hell she had done.I stepped into the study and shut the door behind me. Locked it. The smell of old paper, whiskey, and my father’s cologne still clung to the walls.Then I sat behind the desk, pulled out my phone, and stared at Catalina’s name on the screen.I hesitated.My thumb hovered for a second.Then I pressed “Call.”It rang three times before she picked up.“Hello, love,” she said.Her voice was just as smooth and calm as ever. Like nothing had happened. Like Sarian wasn’t missing. Like I wasn’t falling apart from the inside out.“What did yo
Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation Find Her
SIMEONI knew something was off the moment I walked into the house.The hallway was too quiet.The guards didn’t meet my eyes like they normally did. One even took a step back as I passed. That wasn’t fear. That was shame.And then I heard the footsteps. Heavy. Measured. Too familiar.My father was pacing.I hadn’t seen him in two days. That usually meant trouble was brewing, and now I could feel the weight of it pressing into my skin.I stepped into the main room and found him standing by the bar, one hand gripping a crystal glass so tight I thought it might shatter.Abraham Moretti.Capo of the Bloody Vultures. My father. My general. My curse.“Sit,” he said without looking at me.I obeyed. The leather chair creaked beneath me, but I didn’t say a word. My palms were already sweaty.He turned slowly, placing the glass down with care, like it was more precious than the people he destroyed.Then he walked toward me.And seized me by the collar.I didn’t even have time to blink before h
Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation So Pathetic
CATALINA She looked pathetic.Crumbled on the concrete like wet paper. Her arms tied behind her back, her ankles swollen from struggling. Her face—what was left of it—was a mess of dried blood, bruises, and swelling. Her lip had split, and the corner of her eye was turning a deep purple. And still, she breathed.Pitiful.I stood at the doorway for a long moment, just watching her. Quiet. Still. My hands folded in front of me like I was about to attend mass. I wanted to feel satisfied, but all I felt was an old hunger sharpening inside me.Sarian.The name tasted bitter in my mouth, like a fruit that rotted before it ripened.“She’s awake,” one of the men said, not quite looking at me.I stepped in.My heels clicked across the cold cement with the kind of rhythm I knew would make her flinch. She was trying to shift her weight upright, but even her breathing looked painful.I tilted my head and studied her face. “Look at you,” I said softly, smiling like I was greeting an old friend. “
Don Julio: His Wicked Temptation The Waiting Game
Don JulioThe first few hours after that damn call felt like a lifetime crammed into a handful of heartbeats. My best men, guys I trusted with my life, were out there, turning over every stone in the city. Every connection, every rumor that slithered through the back alleys and dimly lit bars – they were on it. But the silence was deafening. No solid leads. It was like Sarian and the ghosts who snatched her had simply evaporated, leaving no trace.I was a caged animal in my own study. The expensive Persian rug under my feet did little to absorb the restless energy that coursed through me. Back and forth, back and forth, the silence of the house pressing down, thick and suffocating. Only the sharp, insistent ring of my phone dared to break it, and each call was a jab, either another dead end or a fresh wave of agonizing questions.I reached for the crystal decanter on the mahogany bar, the amber liquid inside looking like liquid courage. I poured a generous shot of my finest whiskey, t
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