登入Isabella Romano's idyllic existence falls apart in just one week. Her engagement and career have been ruined, and the only place she can go is to her father's construction business. Finding herself in front of Dominic Castellano, her dad's business partner, best friend, and the man she's desired since she was eighteen, is the last thing she expects. For years, Dom has avoided contact with Vincent's daughter. She is everything he shouldn't want, off-limits, and prohibited. His good intentions, however, are immediately dashed when she arrives, broken and desperate. A single touch triggers another. An uncontrollable fire is started by a single kiss. With a hunger that had been growing for years, he forced her against the office wall and framed her face with his rough hands before snatching her mouth. "This is insane," he growled against her lips while his fingers entangled themselves in her hair. "Then stop," she said softly. No, he couldn't. He couldn't, God forbid him. As he raised her, plans strewn across the floor, her legs encircled his waist. It was everything he had denied himself: the taste of her, the sensation of her gentle curves on his. She gasped as his lips touched the tender region on her neck. "Dom," she said. "Please—" “Dom? "You in there?" The door opened and Vincent's voice roared in. Both of them froze
查看更多Coffee was too strong, or maybe it was just me, everything feels too strong lately, smells too sharp, light too bright, voices too loud, like my nerves don’t have skin anymore. i sat there with the mug in my hands, steam rising in my face, supposed to feel warm and safe or whatever but it didn’t, it felt like my heart was thumping so loud it drowned out the taste. i didn’t sleep. obviously i didn’t. every time i closed my eyes i was right back there, Dom’s hands on me, Dom’s voice low, rough, the way he said he couldn’t stay like it mattered to him, like it hurt him but not enough to stay. i kept waking up sweaty, covers twisted, head full of him. i hate it. i hate that i let it happen and i hate that i can’t stop replaying it.Dad walked in like nothing, like he always does, crisp shirt tucked in, tie already perfect like he doesn’t even breathe, like he’s made of something harder than the rest of us. he looked at me once, then again, too long, too sharp, and i swear my blood froze.
The rain was stupid loud by the time i made it up the steps, like not just wet, it felt personal, like it wanted me drowned before i even got the damn key in the lock. my coat weighed twice as much as it should, sticking to my arms like punishment, boots squelching, i could feel water in my socks and i hate that more than anything. my fingers were slipping on the keys, stupid yellow light buzzing over my head, and i swear i could hear my own breath louder than the rain. then—footsteps.I froze because of course i did, i’m always freezing when i should move. slow at first but then quicker, like an echo that didn’t belong to me. i whipped around, keys jammed between my fingers like that would do anything, and there he was. dom. just standing there at the bottom like some scene out of a bad movie. rain in his hair, dripping down his jaw, shirt plastered to him like skin. and his eyes, they always find me no matter what light, no matter where.“what are you doing here?” it came out sharpe
The stupid buzzing sign outside joe’s tap was the first thing, like it was already needling me before i even touched the door, it makes that low hum that gets in your teeth and the pavement was slick and the colors were bleeding like the whole street couldn’t hold itself together. i don’t even know why i stopped there. i should’ve gone home. dad wasn’t there, late meeting, said he’d be late and i knew the apartment would feel like walking into a dead space, no sound, no warmth, just the walls. i couldn’t. i told myself just a drink, just noise to drown out the silence.And then the heat hits me, that clinging smoky greasy bar heat, and for a second it’s better, like a blanket. smells like fries, beer, something sweet—whiskey maybe—something sticky. those dumb fairy lights draped uneven across the ceiling making everyone look softer than they were, shadows over wood, the bar gleaming like it’s too polished for this dump. wednesday and still packed, wings everywhere, pool balls clacking
I waited till everybody left, i mean i literally sat there like an idiot watching the second hand drag across that clock, tick tick tick, louder than it should be, like it was mocking me or warning me, i don’t even know. the office was so quiet by then, just the buzzing from the overhead lights and the click of my stupid pen i kept clicking open and shut because i couldn’t sit still, and i knew dad wasn’t gonna come back until late, he never comes back before seven when he’s got those meetings uptown, but still i kept waiting, what if this is the one day he changes, what if this is the one time i get caught.My legs felt wooden when i finally stood up, like they didn’t want to move. it’s so dumb, it’s just an office, just a door, and i know i’m not a thief but it felt exactly like that. the handle was so cold, i noticed that, colder than it should’ve been, metal biting into my palm like the room already knew i had no right being in there. i slipped in slow, not even breathing.the air
The air this morning… sharp, not freezing, not yet, just that kind of air that stings your nose and makes you think you forgot how to breathe. I pulled the jacket tight, coffee tray wobbling in my hand, trying not to spill it. I wasn’t even thinking about anything, honestly. I was just… in that bla
Ugh that conference room again. same stupid long table like it’s supposed to mean something. binders stacked like walls, spreadsheets nobody’s actually reading anymore (but we all pretend, right?), empty cups leaving rings like stains of time we’ll never get back, blueprints rolled up and ignored i
It started with voices, low ones, the kind that slide under doors and up walls so you can’t help but stop and listen. i was halfway down the stairs, bare feet on the wood, and i could hear them before i even saw anything. my dad’s voice first—controlled, that steady tone he uses when he’s already d
I swear I could feel him watching before I even opened my mouth. Like his eyes crawled into the room first. Dad sitting there like always, same spot, same stupid newspaper spread out like he’s pretending it’s important, same mug, same sunlight hitting all the lines in his face like the sun is tryin






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