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Chapter 18
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2025-06-27 02:48:42I MISS MY MOTHER'S PENDANT
Leona’s POVHis gaze landed on me. I stood there shaking. He made approach. As I moved back a bit. Staring at his unreadable eyes.Without a word, he turned and walked away. I stumbled into my room.Slamming the door. I dropped to the floor. The storm hit me—grief, rage, shame, betrayal. I cried hard, broken.I stared at my palm. The scar of the injury I sustained when I was 17.The night my foster father came home drunk, he was dripping anger as usual. I had gone to bed early, hiding under blankets until the fuzzy call of sleep took me.But he’d kicked the door open, angry—vodka mouth, fists ready. He screamed, delivered questions like bullets: “Why will you sleep without waiting for me, huh?”I remember hugging the locket so tight it cut into my skin. He saw it, his face twisted. He grabbed it, dragged it away like it belonged to him. We struggled. The chain snapped.When he hit me hard, again and again the pen
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I'm his submissive Leona POV I lay curled in the corner of my room, light creeping through the curtains, drawing thin stripes across my skin. Blankets tangled around me like child’s toy. My chest still beats fast from yesterday’s memory—his voice, the way he pressed me against the wall, the hunger in his voice, the fierce clench of his hands in my hair. It shouldn’t feel so… right. But it was. So impossibly right. Memories of him come back in vivid shards: his lips skimming my jaw, his fingers clutching me like he was afraid of losing something precious. I feel torn—like I’m both undone and made whole in the same moment. My body still tingles, wanting more while my heart braces for the ache that always follows. Tears prick my eyes, soft and steady. I bite my lip, trying to stop them. It doesn’t matter that I cry. Every time I think I've escaped his gravity, he radiates back: his heat, his power, his command. And I… I still wante
Forbidden Pleasure: Sex, Secrets & Scandal Chapter 19
Marco’s POVSun ray spat against the windows as I returned from the penthouse terrace, suppressing the chill that had nothing to do with the weather. I was trying to get some soft air. I entered the house, it was surprisingly quiet. I had gone out for a chill air after Leona slammed her door at me.But as soon as I stepped into my bedroom, I felt it shift. A figure against the far wall, silhouetted under the soft glow of the hallway lamp.It was Veronica. Her silhouette was familiar—the curve of her hips, the sharp rise of her chin. My breath stalled. The air smelled of expensive perfume, cedarwood and honey, but there was something off: a metallic tang of tension.I closed the distance in two steps—my bespoke loafers clicking on marble. Veronica stood unmoving, arms crossed too tightly, fingers clutching slender forearms like she’d needed to ground herself. Her lips were pale, eyes glittering with something between accusation and agony. “Why didn’t yo
Forbidden Pleasure: Sex, Secrets & Scandal Chapter 18
I MISS MY MOTHER'S PENDANT Leona’s POVHis gaze landed on me. I stood there shaking. He made approach. As I moved back a bit. Staring at his unreadable eyes.Without a word, he turned and walked away. I stumbled into my room.Slamming the door. I dropped to the floor. The storm hit me—grief, rage, shame, betrayal. I cried hard, broken.I stared at my palm. The scar of the injury I sustained when I was 17.The night my foster father came home drunk, he was dripping anger as usual. I had gone to bed early, hiding under blankets until the fuzzy call of sleep took me. But he’d kicked the door open, angry—vodka mouth, fists ready. He screamed, delivered questions like bullets: “Why will you sleep without waiting for me, huh?”I remember hugging the locket so tight it cut into my skin. He saw it, his face twisted. He grabbed it, dragged it away like it belonged to him. We struggled. The chain snapped. When he hit me hard, again and again the pen
Forbidden Pleasure: Sex, Secrets & Scandal Chapter 17
I'M FALLING FOR HIMLeona POV I woke to the weight of his body beside me and the soft rustle of sheets. My skin still tingled from last night—pink, electric, numb in ways I didn’t think possible. I was still fully naked, wrapped in his white silky blanket. It smelled like him—cold linen, something deliciously dangerous. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He’d stayed fully clothed; pants, shirt—everything except a tie. I shifted; the weight of his body beside me felt both safe and wrong in the same breath.I stared. He looked like a sleeping god—strong jaw, dark hair spilling across the pillow, eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His right hand lay on the pillow like it belonged there. I reached for it but stopped, fear and something else—want—knotting in my chest.He stirred. Eyelids fluttered. He lifted his gaze to mine, slow and calculating. I could almost hear the hum of electricity between us.“Morning,” he said softly. Voice low but steady.
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I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUMarco POVI didn’t expect to see her. Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to be in the city tonight. “Shit,” I muttered, not even looking down.“It’s really you, I missed you”The voice wasn’t familiar at first. Till I turned to see a familiar face.Veronica Russo. The daughter of Darlington Russo. My ex fiancée. She stood in front of me in a tight gold dress, her lipstick smudged, eyes glossy with alcohol and something else—regret, maybe. She leaned in; her breath sweet with wine.“Do you remember the last time we saw each other?”“Barely.”She giggled. “Of course, you do. You left me at that fundraiser with your father ranting about ‘disrespect.’” Her tone soured.I didn’t answer.She stumbled to the streetlight glow, blinked a few times. “You look… you look more handsome than the last time I saw you.”“You don’t,” I said. Not out of cruelty. Just the truth.She laughed. Loud and bitter. “Still cold. S
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THE SCAR THAT NEVER LEAVESMarco’s POVRain battered the shower glass, each drop echoing the tension in my chest. Steam curled into the dim light overhead, but I could still feel the storm in me—rage, guilt, panic. The day from hell replayed in my mind.The business meeting in Milan fell apart halfway through, which meant I could come back home. I had checked my phone every few minutes, expecting any feedback from her but nothing. So I decided to take a night flight back ahead of schedule.My flight was quiet, almost too quiet. I remember checking the sky and knowing it would rain—like it did the night I first saw her trembling in front of my car. Something about rain always brought trouble.By the time I got home, she wasn’t back from her lesson. It was past 10pm. I brought out my phone to track her through her phone’s GPS, thankfully she turned on her location. I thought of calling her but I didn’t want to appear clingy. I felt just to check on her fr
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