LOGINRosalina Roseburg is a beautiful young girl who gets caught in sex trafficking in Italy by her loving boyfriend. After being tortured for the whole two weeks, she lets go all her hopes and will to live. That's when she's stood in an auction for the elites where she's bought by the mafia prince of Italy , Leonardo Luciano. Who hates prostitution and prostitutes with all his might. He hates his mother the most in the world who was a prostitute and still suffers from his past. He hates that Rosalina is also someone who worked as a prostitute. He hates her, but with every passing day, he gets infatuated with her. Will he ever let go of his hatred and accept rosalina as she is? How will Leonardo face the curse of his past? Does rosalina still love her ex-boyfriend?What will happen when rosalina meets her ex-boyfriend again? What will Rosalina do if her ex-boyfriend is someone close to Leonardo? Who will Leonardo choose for him? Find out....
View MoreHer Pov:I freshen up and change into a beige mid-length frock that moulds to my breasts, cinches tight at my waist, and flares at the bottom. Just a normal beige frock.But it looks⦠too revealing. As if Iām trying too hard. As if I want to be seen.To be seen by him.Do I?Why am I putting effort into how I look? Why am I overthinking a dress when he has already seen me in my worst statesāvomiting, hallucinating, crying so hard I couldnāt even form words? He has seen the raw, ugly, unfiltered parts of me. So why does this feel different?I look into the mirror.My ice-blue eyes stare back at me.I look⦠flushed.I look different.Just like he said.Happy, maybe? Peaceful? I donāt even know what to call it. But something in my reflection has shifted. Something softer. Something warmer. Something that doesnāt look like itās constantly bracing for impact.I take a comb and start running it through my hair, slow, distracted strokes, still watching myself. My eyes look more⦠alive. My br
Her Pov:Warm light falls across my face, gentle and golden, and a strange calm spreads through my chest. It feels almost unrealāI canāt even remember the last time I felt anything close to this peace. Maybe never. For a while, I just lie there, smiling to myself, the memory of last night sweep through me. āI choose you,ā he had said. The words still thrum through me like a heartbeat, making my pulse race even now, yet somehow the peace lingers inside me too.āBeautiful.āThe low, breathy murmur slices through my rosy haze, startling me awake. My eyes snap open, and I jolt upright, my heart stumbling hard against my ribs. Heās thereāsitting opposite the bed, dressed in black from head to toe. A hoodie and trousers, so simple, and yet on him⦠it looks majestic, almost regal.The sunlight streams across the room and catches his face, softening the sharp edges and turning his hazel eyes to liquid gold. He looks less like a man and more like something otherworldly, a creature carved from
His Pov: She is asleep before I finish the words. My little mischief. My undoing. Her head rests against my shoulder, the silk of her hair brushing my jaw with every uneven breath. She clings even in sleep, her hand still curled inside mine, as if she thinks I would vanish the moment she lets go. But I donāt vanish. I canāt. Iāve built empires out of blood and steel, carved out loyalty with terror and fire. Iāve never once flinched from the weight of power or the filth of the crown I wear. Yet here she is, breaking me with nothing but a sigh against my throat. I close my eyes and inhale her scent deeplyāroses, soft and intoxicatingāas if I can anchor myself in it, as if I can force my mind to believe this is real. Sheās real. Weāre real. I was scared. Noāscared is too weak a word. I was terrified. Terrified that she would choose her freedom over me. That she would slip through my fingers the way sheās always wanted to, the way sheās dreamed of since the day I chained her fate
Her Pov:The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around usāsoft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress.Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else.He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit. The evening glow sharpens the angles of his face and deepens the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look like something sculpted from darkness itself. He is breathtaking, but never softānever safe.A sudden gust of wind sweeps in, lifting the hem of my dress, sending a shiver dancing up my spine. Before I can react, warmth engulfs me. Leonardo moves with a quiet swiftness that steals the breath from my lungs, pressing against my back, h
Her Pov:When I wake up, heās nowhere to be seen. The bed is cold beside me, as if he had left hours ago, yet the air still carries the ghost of his presence.Last night, he was all over me. When I drifted into sleep, it was with his scent wrapped around me, his breath mingling with mine, his body
***15 Years ago****His POV:When my eyes cracked open, it felt like waking from death itself.The ceiling above me swayed, blurry and unfamiliar, though Iāve stared at it a thousand times. For a moment, I couldnāt even remember where I wasāonly the weight of my limbs, the stickiness of blood dried
***15 years ago***His Pov:Itās been three days since my mother pushed me down the stairs.Three days since I felt my body crash against every hard step, bones snapping, skull cracking, everything blurring into nothingness before I blacked out.My right hand is fractured. They had to wrap it in pl
**15 Years Ago**His Pov:I flip through the crumpled, half-burned pages of the only thing I have leftāthe only thing she couldnāt destroy. My fingers trace the torn edges carefully, like theyāre made of glass, like theyāll fall apart if I hold them too tight. The paper is stained, corners smudged






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