To the world, he's the enigmatic Capo of the Chicago Outfit, a man of power, control, and unwavering resolve. He's sculpted his life meticulously, sticking to a code that demands order. Yet, sometimes, even the most disciplined minds can be led astray. Claire “Cindy” Parker is the life of every party, a vivacious burst of sunshine that lights up any room. She's the dance-off initiator, karaoke microphone grabber, and the queen of themed costume parties. But beneath her party-loving spirit, Cindy hides a well of pain and dark memories, mastering the art of masking her inner pain with humor and charm. When these two collide, sparks don't fly; instead, it's like a showdown from an old Western, and shots are fired, both literally and metaphorically. Their personalities are oil and water, refusing to mix, igniting heated arguments that often lead to explosive situations. Yet, beneath the surface tension, an undeniable attraction simmers, their paths destined to intertwine. Slowly but surely, they begin to unravel each other's layers, exposing vulnerabilities they've long kept hidden.View More
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"This isn't fair, Mr. Capone, I feel like I have been taken advantage of," I whined while he remained entirely focused on his laptop.He sat beside me, leaning against the headboard. Black silky sheets covered only half of his body, his hair wild, tousled in a very sexy way. I had never seen his hair this disheveled in my life before, it's always so sleek and perfect. As the soft morning light gently caressed the room, he radiated an undeniable sexiness, embodying a Greek god in the flesh. It was six in the morning, we hadn't slept the whole night. He had some stamina, working out regularly paid off the both of us tonight. An hour after our last round, his brother called from Italy and he dropped everything to check whatever he asked him to. I lay on my stomach beside him, the sheets covering my ass. My arms were crisscrossed under my face as I looked up at him.He cast me a sideways glance, flashing the sweetest smile I had ever seen, and then snapped his atten
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Pinned against the door, my back arched, my hands sought him out and he grabbed them and intertwined our fingers. He firmly pressed them against the door on either side of me, creating a hard cage that I couldn't escape from. I could feel him getting hard against my stomach, like, seriously stretching the front of his pants. It sent burning heat through me. Knowing I'm doing this to him—it's like this wild, unbridled feeling to have a man this powerful lose control only because of you. My fingers were practically itching to touch, but he wasn't giving my hands any freedom.I moaned into his kiss when he bit on my lip, the sensation, and taste of him hitting me so intensely that my clit throbbed down there.My eyelids flutter shut, the warmth and rush of adrenaline plunging from my chest straight down to my groin in a split second. He pulled away briefly, muttering a "Fuck" under his breath. Before I could respond, he dove back in, his mouth taking control, cravi
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"What about you, Claire?" he asked, "Do you even know who I am?" I took a deep breath, smiling up at him, "You're a perfectionist... I admire the way everything in your life is meticulously organized and flawlessly clean. And how there's not a single speck of dust in your bedroom." A subtle smile played on his lips, and both of his eyebrows raised slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the compliment."You're kind of unexplainable," I glanced down at my toes and then back at him, "To someone who doesn't know you, they might think you're this ice-cold and emotionless person but only your family knows the truth – that you have the warmest smile, you make jokes sometimes, you're honest, and caring. Your love for the women in your family is gentle, and you express it mostly within the walls of your home."The smile slowly faded, and a confused and serious look flickered across his features as if he wasn't expecting me to know anything about him. "Your love language is.
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"It was not what it looked like," I stammered as Vincenzo, accompanied by Adriano and Silvio, left for work.Throughout this entire time, there had been this unspoken tension and nagging questions hanging over my head. I struggled with the peculiar glances Alessia and Allegra sent pointed glances my way every time Vincenzo so much as took a breath at the breakfast table. It felt like his every inhale and exhale somehow had everything to do with me. Alessia crossed her arms over her chest, her expression carrying a mix of curiosity and concern, "It looked like you and Vincenzo had something going on... romantically."I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Fine, then it was exactly what it looked like."Alessia let out a laugh, a mixture of amusement and realization. "I knew it. I had a feeling when we flew back from the island that something was going on with Vincenzo and his unusual concern for you. I know him well enough to understand that he won't just get up and fix
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I paced angrily in my room, seething with frustration. He was hugging her, intimately, within the confines of his study. The audacity of their closeness on our supposed first day as a couple fueled the flames of annoyance within me.I could still feel a light sting between my thighs. My clit was swollen from being hit five times and it was worse than getting kicked in the balls. A gentle yet firm knock echoed through the room, prompting me to turn towards the door and freeze. There he was—I could sense it without a doubt. It had to be Vincenzo. "Claire..." his voice reached me from outside the door.In response, I stomped over to the bed, frustration bubbling within me, and sat down. Pulling my legs to my chest, I remained silent as his plea continued."Claire, open the door." Despite his words, I chose not to respond. Instead, I sat on the bed, fixating my gaze on the sheets, unwilling to let him see the conflict and emotions swirling within me. I wasn't jealo
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Vincenzo Capone - Fifteen years old. The air weighed on me as mourners came together at our estate, a testament to the fortune amassed by generations of Capones. Dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit, I stood stoically, alongside my father Salvatore Capone, I presented a façade of strength despite the grief that lingered beneath.We're Made Men. We don't show our emotions. We bury them. It's a code we live by. It's not about being heartless; it's survival in a world where showing weakness can be more dangerous than any adversary we might face.Within the mansion, decorated with black drapery, mourners navigated through halls to the grand room where the funeral service unfolded. Every corner showed off detailed floral arrangements, a display of wealth juxtaposed against the somber occasion. Lilies and roses perfumed the air, mingling with the heavy fragrance of incense.A polished dark wood casket, a classy piece, rested in the center of the room. Ne
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"Do orders sound like white noise to you, or is it just a selective hearing issue?" was the first thing he said to me when he entered the room. I stood by the window, staring out since I returned to the room. When I heard his voice, I turned, and let out a breath, "Well, you know, orders and I have this complicated relationship," I retorted. His eyes narrowed, there wasn't a trace of amusement on his face, he was pissed, "Complicated, huh? Maybe I need to simplify it for you."I just couldn't help but be bitchy, even when I knew I messed up. It was like my default setting or something. It's not like I planned to be all rebellious, but there was this itch to stand my ground, even when I was in the wrong."I don't need simplification. I simply reserve my obedience for those who earn it." "Is that so?" he inquired, a subtle challenge in his tone.He stalked towards me, eyes practically shooting daggers. The air around him felt charged, like an impending storm ready
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"When I'm pissed off, I fuck hard," his voice came out deep, husky, and almost as if it took everything in him to utter these words. I felt his fingers digging into my hipbone as he held me closer. I blinked up at him, wondering, what did Vincenzo Capone even see in me when he was surrounded by all these women? When he had an ex like Sarah Cromwell. Why me? His secretary Georgina was a beautiful, smart, and probably an upstanding woman—why did he never get attracted to her? Why me? I quivered as he squeezed me forcefully, his grip leaving searing imprints on my skin. My fingers desperately clung to his flexed forearms, as he tried to shove his hands under my dress. I wasn't afraid of his bruteness, I have had enough bruteness in my life that I had grown a very hard skin. It takes a lot to simply unnerve me but somehow he manages to do that simply just by being around me. "I'm fine with that..." I nodded slightly and managed to whisper. He made a deep sound tha
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I waited in the car, my impatience simmering as she took an eternity. Whatever she was up to, I couldn't imagine, but when she finally emerged, a scowl etched across her face, it was clear she had a knack for testing my patience.She swung open the car door and gracefully slipped into the passenger seat, her familiar scent enveloping the confined space.I maintained a stoic expression as I maneuvered the car out of our heavily secured residence. The security team efficiently unlocked each gate, and once we smoothly passed through the third one, hidden from the watchful eyes of my men, I seized her chin. In an instant, I leaned in for a kiss, craving her from the moment I had seen her in this dress but she blocked it with a hand firmly placed between our lips. What the fuck? I abruptly pulled back, my focus divided between the road and her. She swiped my hand away from her chin, crossing her arms defensively over her chest and shifting towards the car door, creat
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