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So why
publish date:
2026-05-19 22:49:41
Latest chapter
In Bed With The MC President Conditions
IreneBy 6:00 PM on Tuesday, I had successfully formatted three commercial zoning permits, finalized the CAD renderings for a boutique hotel in Milan and managed to go an entire eight hours without thinking about the Galante family.It was a personal best.I was currently packing my tote bag when Luca dropped a stack of blueprints onto my desk. Luca was one of the junior architects. He had a nice smile, wore a lot of navy blue, and possessed exactly zero brooding, tragic billionaire tendencies. He was safe. He was normal."Tell me you are escaping this hellhole." Luca said, leaning against my cubicle wall. "Because if Signor Bianchi asks me to revise the lobby dimensions one more time, I am throwing my monitor out the window.""I am officially off the clock." I confirmed, slinging my bag over my shoulder.Luca smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Good. Then let me buy you dinner. There is a new Sicilian place around the corner. Carbohydrates and wine. No spreadshee
In Bed With The MC President So why
MilaI had gone toward the back door intending to find them, but I stopped the moment my fingers touched the cold metal handle.The heavy iron door was cracked open only a few inches, and through the narrow gap, the damp night air slipped inside in slow, ghostly currents. It carried the sharp scent of rain-soaked asphalt, stale tobacco, and something far heavier than either of them—raw, bleeding vulnerability.I froze in the darkness of the hallway.The clubhouse behind me was quiet except for the distant hum of the old refrigerator and the soft static buzz of the neon beer signs flickering above the empty bar. But outside, under the dripping fire escape, the two men who had once seemed larger than life sounded devastatingly human.I should have walked away.Instead, I stayed hidden beside the door, my breath shallow, listening to the fractured pieces of my life speak to each other through the rain.I heard Justin shift first, the scrape of his boot against wet concrete rough in the s
In Bed With The MC President The realization-2
RyanI stared out into the rain. Thought about Leo’s sleepy breaths against my neck. Thought about the softness of his forehead beneath my lips earlier that morning. Thought about the terrifying realization that I would burn entire cities to ash before I let anything touch him.“It feels…” I stopped, struggling for the words. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this.“It feels like your heart is walking around outside your body.” I added finally and laughed once under my breath, exhausted and disbelieving. “It’s the first time in my life I have ever been afraid to die. Not because I am scared of death. I stopped being scared of that a long time ago.”I looked over at Justin. “But because if I am gone…” My throat tightened. “I can’t stand between him and the things waiting to hurt him.”Justin nodded once. “Good.”Rain fell steadily around us while somewhere down the block a siren wailed faintly through the city.And beneath everything else, beneath the exhaustion, the grief, the ni
In Bed With The MC President The realization
Ryan“You are still breathing too loud. It’s annoying.” Justin didn’t bother looking at me when he said it.He just leaned one shoulder against the rusted fire escape in the alley behind the clubhouse, cigarette balanced between two scarred fingers.The rainwater dripped steadily from the metal stairs above us. For the first time in seven days, I had stepped outside the hallway.Outside the office. Outside the invisible perimeter I had built around Mila and Leo like a man trying to hold back an avalanche with his bare hands.I took a slow drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke burn through my lungs.“I am trying.” I muttered finally.“Try harder.” Justin flicked ash onto the pavement without looking at me.The words weren’t cruel. That was the problem. They were tired. Heavy. Weighted down by a year of funerals, betrayals, blood, and all the things we never said out loud because men like us were taught to survive instead of speak.He finally turned his head toward me then, dark e
In Bed With The MC President Fatherly
MilaI woke up to the sound of absolute silence. For a second, my brain panicked, disoriented by the smell of stale air, motor oil, and old plaster. My hands instantly shot across the faded quilt, searching for the familiar shape of the travel carrier. My fingers brushed against an empty mattress. My breath hitched, the remnants of sleep vanishing in an instant as I bolted upright in the dim room. But before the fear could fully take root in my chest, a low, rumbling sound drifted through the partially open bedroom door. It was a voice. Deep, quiet, and completely devoid of the sharp, lethal edge it had carried the night before. I threw off the thin blanket and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floorboards were freezing against my bare feet as I walked silently toward the crack in the door, my heart beating a cautious rhythm against my ribs. I peered through the narrow opening into Justin’s cluttered back office. The morning sun was just beginning to fight its
In Bed With The MC President Not leaving
RyanI couldn’t breathe.My lungs had forgotten how to expand as I stayed on my knees beside the worn mattress, my hands hovering over the tiny, impossibly fragile body sleeping in the center of the faded quilt.A son. My son. He had dark hair. He had the same slope of Mila’s nose. He let out a soft, rhythmic little sigh, his tiny chest rising and falling, entirely unaware that his existence had just fundamentally altered the axis of the earth.For twelve months, I had been a ghost haunting my own life. I had let my father hollow me out, pour his corporate poison down my throat, and turn me into a weapon for the Empire Group because I thought there was nothing left in this world to protect. I thought the only beautiful thing I had ever touched was buried in the ground.But she wasn't. She was standing right behind me. And she had brought the light back with her.A violent, ragged tear slipped down my jaw and dropped onto the quilt. I didn’t wipe it away. I let the raw, bleeding agony
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