I sold out a mafia boss. A girl in debt, a mafia boss and a golden cop. Please this story starts off at a fast pace, but then it slows down to capture every scene I feel needed to be captured. But after that, it goes really fast I promise you. Lana Denver is a secret undercover girl for an FBI agent Charles Gregory. She owes him her life so in return, she decides to be his secret undercover girl, receiving crucial and vital information from criminals through her body, betraying them and even selling them out. She’s been doing this for years, making Charles the golden Cop, everyone thinks he’s such a genius, for always solving cases and gaining outrageous leads. Lana has been under the protection of Charles until he gives her another job, that is to get information from a deadly man known as Ricardo Borrelli. Lana never knew Ricardo is a ruthless mafia boss. With her wonderful body, she gets information out of Ricardo and when she does, after a night well spent, she slips out the next day and sells him out to Charles. In seconds, Charles had police swarm in, warranting an arrest for him and his gang. Ricardo knows the snitch couldn’t be none other than Lana and he swears to track her down and make her pay. But Charles protection over Lana is so strong or so she thought…
View MoreRicardo’s POVThe gunfire stops and there is silence. No more bullets flying through the air, no more splintering wood. Just stillness. I wait, listening with my gun clenched in my grip. My mind screams at me to move, but I don’t. Not yet. I need to be sure. I need to know this isn’t some trick, some ploy to lure me out. And then, when I’m certain there’s no movement beyond the door, I bolt. I rush to Angelo, dropping to my knees beside him, with my heart beating hard and fast. His body is still, and his face pale. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I press a hand to his shoulder, shake him slightly, but he doesn’t react. My jaw clenches as I fight to keep my emotions in check. Don’t lose it. Don’t fucking lose it. If my brother is dead… if Angelo is gone… I don’t know how to move on. He’s my family. My blood. My fucking life. I swallow back the panic I feel. My hands tremble as I check him, until I hear it; a sound, a breath.It’s choked, rasping. A gasping, a desperate
Ricardo’s POVI stand before Antonella, with my arms crossed, watching as she shakes with frustration. Her voice is low but it’s filled with fury. “You wanted to see me? Well, I’m here.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “You think I wanted to see you?” Her voice cracks, but she forces herself to hold it together. “I wanted you home. I wanted you home for your daughters. I wanted my husband.” I pause, then let out a short laugh. “Your husband?” I say incredulously. “Remind me when I got married to you.” Her face turns red, and for a moment, she looks humiliated, like she’s realizing just how pathetic she must seem, clinging onto something that doesn’t exist. But she doesn’t back down. I press on, wanting to make her snap, wanting to push her to the edge where all her delusions about me shatter. “Show me your fucking hands,” I demand. “Did I put a fucking rock on it?” And just like that, she snaps. She slaps me, and the slap comes quick and hard, stinging my cheek, but I don’t e
Lana’s POV The moment the door opens, I act fast. I reach up, running my fingers through my hair, messing it up as much as possible. Then, I turn my back to them, making sure my face is hidden. I can’t risk Charles seeing me. Not now. Not like this.I can’t see anything. I only hear it.I hear a broken sob. "Dios mío..." Maria’s father. His thick accent carries shame, regret and humiliation.Then Charles speaks. “Take this. Get dressed.”I hear rustling and clothes shifting. Then Maria’s father asks with a shaky voice, “Did he do anything to you? Did he touch you?”Maria answers. “No,” she chokes out between sobs. “He didn’t have sex with me. He didn’t kiss me. He just made me dance for him and grind on him... with his clothes on. That’s all.”Her voice wavers, with shame evident in every word. Then Charles asks the question I was dreading.“Who’s that?”I freeze.Maria hesitates. “That’s L—”I don’t let her finish. I twist my voice, making it sound different; higher, more nasal.“Lo
Ricardo’s POV I stand face to face with Antonella, with my cheek still stinging from the slap she just delivered in front of everyone. My hand rests on my face, then I let it down as I run my tongue along the inside of my lower lip. Antonella’s eyes are filled with fury, and her chest heaves. She’s not done. She’s going to slap me again, and she’s not going to care. From the corner of my eye, I see Angelo sigh deeply. He doesn’t say a word, just gives me that I told you so look. I step closer to Antonella until I’m inches from her. "You hit me in public?" I say with a low aggravated voice.Her nostrils flare. "Yes," she spits, "and I will fucking do it again if I have to." My jaw clenches. The urge to retaliate crosses my mind but I hold myself back. Then her voice changes, it softens. "The kids have been waiting for you to come home," she whispers. "I have been waiting for you to come home." Her voice trembles with pain. "But you’re here. In Mexico. For some twenty-year-ol
Ricardo’s POVI press the phone to my ear. “This better be good, Angelo. I was in the middle of something.” “It’s getting late,” my younger brother mutters. “I’m running out of things to tell Antonella.” Shit. I run a hand through my hair, realizing I completely forgot about them. “Alright,” I sigh. “I’ll send you an address. You both can start coming.” There’s a pause before Angelo says, “Brother, anything that would make Antonella flip out—get rid of it.” I scoff. “Since when do you care so much about my girlfriend’s feelings?” I say coldly. “She’s my girlfriend, not yours.” Angelo exhales. “I didn’t mean it like that brother. And you know that.” “I don’t care if you meant it like that or not. Just stop caring.” I hang up, send the address, and then step out of the bathroom. The sight in front of me brings me to a halt. Lana and Maria are sitting together, huddled close. Maria’s eyes are puffy, with tears running down her cheeks, while Lana strokes her hair, whispering
Charles’s POVI step out of the restroom, rolling my sleeves as I make my way back to the main floor. The music still plays, but the atmosphere in the room has changed. People stand around awkwardly, some swaying half-heartedly, others just frozen in place like they aren’t sure whether to keep dancing or wait for something to happen. I shake my head, stunned, until my eyes land on Señor Davida González. Unlike the others, he isn’t just confused; he looks shattered. His hands are clenched into fists, and his shoulders are rigid. Fury and grief is plastered on his face. The sight of him like that makes my stomach drop. I walk through the crowd, heading straight for him. "Where’s Maria?" I demand the second I reach him. Davida exhales. “Ricardo… he took her upstairs.” My hands find my waist as I sigh disappointedly. I had missed the chance to see that motherfucker. Shit. This isn’t good. “What happened?” I ask.Davida turns to me. “Did I make the right decision, Charles?” Hi
Lana’s POV I hate this. Every second of it.The huge mansion, the strange faces, this dress, but what I hate most is standing here, holding hands with him; Ricardo Borrelli. His grip on me is firm and possessive, like I’m something he owns. I want to rip my hands away, but I know better. He’d make me pay for it later.As we step through the grand entrance, I swallow hard. The scene before me is overwhelming; young boys and girls, all dancing and having fun.My eyes move upward, landing on a massive neon balloon hanging in the center of the room: Bienvenidos a Maria, and then, underneath in gold cursive: 20th.I freeze. My fingers slowly tighten around Ricardo’s arm as the realization settles. Holy fuck.I whip my head towards him and whisper with anger. “You invited me to a twenty-year-old’s birthday party—dressed like this?” I gesture at myself, at the barely-there excuse of a dress he forced me into, the one that leaves little to the imagination. “Like some slut?”Ricardo doesn’t a
Charles’ POV I am on my way to Davida’s mansion with a boxed gift at the back of the car. The driver drives smoothly while I rest my arm on the door. My thoughts are about Alma. She seemed like she was excited to go for Maria’s birthday with me. So why the hell did she suddenly decide to sit this one out? It doesn’t sit right with me, but I shake the thought off. Right now, I have to focus. As we pull up to the massive gates of Davida’s estate, a security guard steps forward and raps his knuckles against my tinted window. I roll it down, preparing to introduce myself, but before I can even get a word out, the guy's eyes widen in recognition. “Welcome, golden cop,” he says with a smirk. I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head. Then, the guard signals to the men behind the gate, and within seconds, the massive gates swing open. The driver drives in, and I take in the scene before me; luxury cars lined up neatly, expensive suits and glittering dresses everywhere. I step out o
Ricardo’s POVI lean back in the leather seat of my car as my fingers tap absently against my knee. Davida Gonzalez had just handed me an opportunity to teach Lana her biggest lesson ever, and I never let an opportunity go to waste. Initially, I had planned to spend the night drinking or watching strippers, anything to distract myself from the presence of Lana in my hotel suite. But now? Now I have a much better idea. "Take me to the shopping mall," I instruct my driver. When we arrive, I walk through the luxury boutique with my eyes scanning the racks of dresses. I am not looking for elegance, I am looking for control. And I find it in a black silk outfit that barely counted as a dress. It has thin straps crisscrossing over the back, leaving most of the skin exposed. The neckline is scandalously low, and the hem barely covers enough to be considered decent. I smirk, running my fingers over the expensive material. Lana will hate this, which means she will fight wearing it, and
They say everyone has a debt to pay. Mine just happens to be my life. My name is Lana Denver, and for the past six years, I’ve lived in the shadows, gathering secrets, playing roles, and finding my way into the hearts of dangerous men. I’m not a cop, not a hero, and definitely not someone who sleeps easy at night. But what I am is a survivor—a survivor indebted to one man: FBI agent Charles Gregory.I remember flipping open yesterday’s newspaper, with my coffee on the counter. As always, his name was splashed across the headlines in bold letters.“FBI’s Golden Detective Cracks Another Case: Charles Gregory Stays One Step Ahead of Crime”I recall skimming through the article, already knowing what it will say:"Gregory’s instincts and exceptional dedication have once again led to a major breakthrough in a case that baffled authorities for months. Insiders at the Bureau describe him as a force to be reckoned with, a man who sees what others don’t. His latest victory is evidence of his u...
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