LOGINValentina ReyesI stared at the coffee. Black. Cold.Waiting for tomorrow suddenly felt like suicide.The declined ATM was a scream in the dark. They were close. Too close.I couldn’t afford another night in the hotel. Couldn’t afford another swipe. Couldn’t afford to wait for $18k.$12,200 was all I had.But it was enough to beg Javier for mercy.Enough to leave tonight.I stood. Left cash on the table for the untouched coffee. Walked out fast heels clicking, emerald dress catching every light like a beacon.No going back to the hotel.No bags.Just me and the cash.I pulled out the burner one last time.i Dialed Javier.He answered, voice rough. “Val? Again?”“I’m not waiting for tomorrow,” I said. “I’m coming now. $12,200. Take it. Get me out tonight.”Silence.Then a long exhale.“$12k? That’s suicide money, mija. Group run only. Desert walk. You’ll be lucky to make it.”“I don’t care. I’m leaving now. Same spot?”“You’re insane. But fine. 4 a.m. Flushing Ave tire shop. Bring the cash. Nothing else.
Alessandro RossiThe scotch burned going down, but it didn’t dull the edge.I sat in the booth, curtains drawn, the club's pulse throbbing through my veins. The crowd had thinned to the late night die hards ,the ones who didn’t know when to stop, or didn’t care. A masked woman with red hair approached the table next to mine, leaning in to whisper to a suit with too much money and too little self control. He slipped her a wad of cash. She led him to the back.I watched them go, the sway of her hips reminding me of her,Luca slid back into the booth across from me, a fresh beer in hand, face flushed from working the room.“Talked to Tony,” he said, voice low under the music. “He remembers a girl matching the description red lips, green eyes under the mask, full figure. Came in a couple times last month. Didn’t stay long. Left with clients who paid big. Said she was ‘professional but distant.’ No name. No regulars. Just cash and gone.”I nodded once, fingers drumming the glass. “And Kira?”Luc
Isabella RossiThe guest suite door closed behind Mateo with a soft click that felt louder than a gunshot.
Isabella RossiThe penthouse was too quiet after Alessandro left.I stood in the living room for a long moment after the elevator doors closed behind him, glass of red still in my hand. The city lights glittered through the floor to ceiling windows, indifferent. I swirled the wine, watched the legs run down the inside of the glass. My pulse was already up but not from the alcohol.From what i know I had twenty, maybe thirty minutes before he came back.I set the glass down and Walked to the hallway that led to the private wing. The door to the guest suite was cracked open. Light spilled out, warm, low.I pushed it wider.Mateo was inside.My sexy personal bodyguard he is six foot three and built like a wall with dark hair cropped short, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Tattoos crept up his neck from under the collar of his black shirt. He’d been assigned to me two years ago after a close call with one of Enzo’s men. Alessandro’s orders “Keep her safe. No exceptions.”Mateo never left my sid
Alessandro RossiThe sun set like it was bleeding out over the Hudson red streaks fading to black. I watched from the penthouse window, tie loose around my neck, scotch untouched on the desk. Day shift was over. Rossi Enterprises had closed deals, moved stocks, built walls of legitimacy that no one could see through. But night? Night was when the real work began.Isabella waited in the living room when I came out. She was nursing a glass of red, legs crossed on the leather couch, her dark hair pinned back like she was still in boardroom mode. My sister three years younger, sharper than me in some ways, softer in others. The only family I had left after our father's "accident" and our mother's heart giving out from the stress. She'd taken over the legal side of the business cleaning money, handling contracts, keeping the feds at bay."You're going to the warehouse?" she asked, not looking up from her tablet.I adjusted my cufflinks. "Meeting with the Colombians. The shipment's delayed."Sh
Valentina ReyesThe sidewalk kept moving under my feet, but I felt like I was standing still while People brushed past in suits ,on phones, tourists with cameras, and a delivery guy on a bike yelling at someone to move. I walked because stopping felt worse. The emerald dress swished against my thighs with every step, the fabric soft and mocking. It had felt like power ten minutes ago. Now it just felt like a costume.My hand was still shaking when I shoved the burner back into my purse. The coffee cup was crushed in my fist, cold dregs dripping onto my fingers. I tossed it into the next trash can without looking.The blue elephant stayed in my head. Big ears. Tiny trunk. Black button eyes. Smiling like it knew nothing about the world.I swallowed hard. Kept walking.The ache in my chest didn’t fade. It spread slow, heavy, familiar. I’d learned to carry it years ago, like an extra heartbeat. But today it hurt sharper. Louder. Like the dress, the hotel, the card had cracked something open t







