MasukIreneRomeo’s arms tightened around me with a sudden, almost desperate strength, as if the sound of my voice had shattered the last thread of his restraint. He pulled me impossibly closer, his chest rising and falling in ragged waves against mine.The moonlight filtered through the tall windows of his office, casting us in silver and shadow.We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. His body trembled against mine, silent sobs wracking him as he buried deeper into the curve of my neck.I held him through it all, threading my fingers through the dark strands of his hair, stroking with a tenderness I hadn’t known I still possessed. His scent, clean antiseptic from the hospital mixed with something uniquely him, warm and masculine, wrapped around me like a drug. Every shaky breath he took vibrated through my ribs, echoing the ache in my own chest. I didn’t rush him. How could I? This tangled man who commanded rooms and lives with iron precision, was untangling in my arms. An
IreneI stared at the man standing in front of me while moonlight stretched long shadows across his exhausted face. The shattered pieces of the last six years were rearranging themselves in my mind, forming a picture so devastating that my knees nearly gave out beneath me.Camilla had not abandoned him out of cruelty. She had not disappeared because she stopped loving him.She had given away a piece of herself to save his life, and the trauma of that sacrifice was slowly destroying her.And Romeo knew.He carried that truth inside him every second of every day.“You said I didn’t cause this, Irene,” he whispered into the silence.He wasn’t looking at me. His hollow grey eyes remained fixed on the floor.“You said it’s a clinical diagnosis. You said this isn’t anyone’s fault. But how am I supposed to look at my own hands and not see her blood on them?”A ragged breath left him, sounding more painful than a sob.“Every time I take a breath, I know it’s a breath she doesn’t get to take.
Romeo“She is sick. It is a clinical diagnosis. You didn't cause her organs to fail.""I did…" I replied, the words tearing out of my throat like shards of broken glass. I turned away from her, unable to look at the sympathy that was trying to replace her anger. I couldn't handle her understanding. I didn't deserve it.I walked over to the edge of my desk, gripping the polished wood until my fingers went numb.“You think she just walked out on me six years ago because her father died? Or just because her mother forced her to?” I let out a harsh, ragged breath. “No… we were inseparable. She left because of what it cost her to keep me breathing. When my father was assassinated, I didn’t want to survive. I was reckless. I was suicidal. I put a car into a concrete retaining wall at a hundred miles an hour.”I turned back to face her, my voice dropping to a whisper.“My liver was lacerated beyond repair. I was dying on a table in a private clinic. The entire estate was at war; they couldn’
Hello guys, I noticed there’s a wrong chapter published last night. I mostly upload 5-6 chapters and set a timer for auto-publishing them. I usually check after it gets published and fix it instantly if there’s an issue. But last night I was so sick, I couldn't even pick up my phone... So I couldn't fix it immediately. I am sorry about that. It was not intentional at all. But yeah, a mistake surely. I have fixed it now, you will be able to see the edited chapter after it gets approved by my editor. Please, wait patiently.
RomeoThe glass of scotch sitting on my desk had been there for nearly three hours. But I had not touched it. The drink was there out of habit more than desire.I did not want the numbness. Numbness was a luxury I had not earned.Leaning back in my leather office chair, I pressed the heels of my hands against my burning eyes and exhaled slowly. Exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. There was a relentless ache pulsed behind my temples, sharp enough to make every heartbeat feel like a hammer striking against my skull.For seven days, I had barely slept.Two hours a night, if I was lucky.I had confined myself almost entirely to the medical wing and my office, existing on little more than black coffee and the crushing weight of thoughts I could not escape. Every hour had blurred into the next until time itself had become meaningless. There was only Isabella’s recovery, Irene’s exhaustion and the growing certainty that I was finally being forced to face truths I had spent years a
RomeoThe glass of scotch sitting on my desk had been there for nearly three hours. But I had not touched it. The drink was there out of habit more than desire.I did not want the numbness. Numbness was a luxury I had not earned.Leaning back in my leather office chair, I pressed the heels of my hands against my burning eyes and exhaled slowly. Exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. There was a relentless ache pulsed behind my temples, sharp enough to make every heartbeat feel like a hammer striking against my skull.For seven days, I had barely slept.Two hours a night, if I was lucky.I had confined myself almost entirely to the medical wing and my office, existing on little more than black coffee and the crushing weight of thoughts I could not escape. Every hour had blurred into the next until time itself had become meaningless. There was only Isabella’s recovery, Irene’s exhaustion and the growing certainty that I was finally being forced to face truths I had spent years a
Recommended song: Falling in love (Cigarettes after sex)Dante’s POVHer question was completely innocent.Can I see your wife? She had asked. I stared at her. At her wide, curious eyes, the soft flush still dusting her cheeks, and the way her fingers nervously picked at the hem of the white blank
Isabella’s POVDante was there, on his knees.And he wasn't alone.I held my breath, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the corridor. Standing directly in front of the terrifying, tall man was a tiny little girl.She looked no older than six to seven. She was wearing light pink silk pajamas wit
Isabella’s POVI spent the first twenty minutes of the car ride trying to read my husband's face. But I found nothing. His face was completely blank. In the backseat, Elara was happily swinging her legs, clutching her 'Family Hero' poster, entirely in on whatever secret my husband was keeping."Da
Mateo’s POVI had instructed the chef to prepare a feast.Lobster bisque. Truffle risotto. Wagyu beef. The kind of meal that Galante probably couldn't even pronounce properly.I sat at the head of the long table. The room was bathed in the warm glow of two dozen candles."They are ready, sir." The







