Hope you all enjoy the chapter. Just wanted to give you a heads-up that I'll be taking tomorrow off. See you soon! xoxo
Lilianna »»»◈««« My jaw dropped in disbelief as I glanced at Kason, then at his battered knuckles, and then returned my gaze to his smug expression. It took me a moment to process the news. "I...I can't believe it. This is amazing! When do I start?" "We're excited to have you, Lilianna," Rachel continued warmly. "We'll need you to come in for a fitting next week. Can you make it on Tuesday at 10 AM?" "Yes, absolutely, I can be there," I replied, still in shock. "Great! We'll send you an email with all the details, including the address and what to bring. If you have any questions before then, feel free to reach out." "Thank you again, Rachel," I said, my heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and nerves. "Welcome aboard, Lilianna," Rachel said before hanging up. I slowly lowered the phone, my hands trembling. I looked at Kason, his battered knuckles and smug smile. "Tell me you didn't," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. He made an even smugger face. "If that's what
Marco »»»◈««« ONE YEAR LATER »»◈««««◈»»»»◈«« I stepped off the plane, my polished shoes making a muted thud against the jet bridge. The familiar, sharp scent of the city greeted me as he walked through the private terminal. It had been a year and a half in Rochester—time spent away from my home and my empire. I moved through the airport like a ghost. I glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds that I had missed in my absence. A line of black SUVs waited for me outside. So much for being discreet. I hadn't told anyone I was coming back. The only people who knew were Niko, Scott, and Lorenzo, and they were enough. But Scott always makes a fucking spectacle out of everything. I sighed and made my way to the lead SUV, where Scott stood with a smug grin on his face. “Welcome back, Asshole,” he said, opening the door for me. “Cut the theatrics, Scott,” I muttered, stepping in front of him. “I thought we were supposed to keep a low profile, especially with the FBI breathing d
Marco »»»◈««« "I'm furious with you," Mum seethed, her frustration palpable in her tone. "How could you not tell me, not call me, not even bother to send a message?" She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. "If it wasn't for Niko, I wouldn't have even known if you were alive. Do you have any idea what it's like to not know if your son is dead or alive? To have to rely on second-hand information?" I reached out and held her hand, "I'm here now." Mum squeezed my hand, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "Don't ever do that to me again!" Dad walked into the room, sparing me a disapproving glance before taking his seat in his armchair. "I know how important it was to go underground in the narcotics labs with no contact, but you could have said something before leaving," he said, lighting up his cigar. "I left in a hurry," I said, my voice subdued. "There wasn't time." He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly. "In a hurry, huh? Or maybe too caught up
Marco »»»◈««« I stayed still for a few moments, annoyance creeping up inside of me. "I'm sorry," she slurred, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm and reaching out to clean my shirt. Her eyes were hazy, and her movements clumsy. "Stop," I said, my voice firm but low. She blinked up at me, confusion clouding her features. "I didn't mean to..." "I know," I interrupted, trying to keep my frustration in check. I held both of her wrists firmly and stood up, bringing her along with me. She felt so frail, as if she had lost all her weight. Was modeling sucking the soul out of her body? Bowing my head, I shut my eyes tight, trying to rein in my mounting frustration. Taking her along, I led the unsteady Lilianna to the bathroom. She stumbled with each step, her movements clumsy and erratic. How much had she drunk? "Careful," I murmured, steadying her with a firm grip. She glanced up at me, her eyes unfocused and glassy. Once in the bathroom, I guided Lilianna to si
Lilianna »»»◈««« I groaned, my head pounding even before I dared to open my eyes. Hangovers were the worst, but sometimes, you had to do things you'd never do for the sake of the job. Like last night, when I found myself indulging in celebratory drinks just because my casting director insisted on it. Rolling over in bed, I winced at the slightest movement, my stomach churning with every shift. The room spun slightly as I cracked open my eyelids, the harsh light searing through my skull. I reached for the covers, pulling them over my head in a feeble attempt to block out the world. My mouth felt like a desert, dry and parched, as I groaned softly, regretting every sip from the night before. But then, I realized something. I slowly pulled down the covers once more, and a sense of unease washed over me. The beige-colored ceiling looked vaguely familiar. I furrowed my brow, trying to recall where I was, but my mind drew a blank. I jolted up in a seated position as I recognized the roo
Marco »»»◈««« I never had to care about keeping someone close. My position, influence, and my bank account usually took care of that for me. The bartender approached with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label and a rocks glass in hand. He set them down in front of me, and without hesitation, I poured myself a generous double shot. Downing it in one swift motion, I welcomed the burn of the alcohol as it washed away the bitter taste of her rejection, if only for a fleeting moment. Second chances? I've never bought into that nonsense. Trusting someone again, believing they'll change? That's nothing but wishful thinking, a waste of time and energy in ninety-nine percent of cases. Don't even get me started on the audacity of it all. It's like expecting a snake not to bite after it's sunk its fangs into you once. Lilianna is not a very trustworthy person. She'll do whatever she pleases as long as she thinks she's safe. The moment she realized I wasn't a threat to her or her b
Lilianna »»»◈««« We walked into a high-end restaurant, his hand firmly anchored to my back as he guided us inside. The maître d' greeted us with a nod, instantly recognizing Marco. We were swiftly escorted to a secluded table, the dim lighting casting an intimate glow over the polished silverware and crisp linens. Apparently, Mr. Costello here had reserved a table for us and planned the entire dinner. Typical. He probably planned dates with the same precision he used to run his counterfeit money empire. He pulled out a chair for me and guided me into it before seating himself opposite me. The server approached our table, and without missing a beat, he ordered their most expensive wine. "We'll call you when we're ready to order," he added, dismissing the server with a nod. I watched as the server hurried off, likely to retrieve a bottle that cost more than an average person's rent. Typical Costello—always making a statement. The wine arrived, and as the server poured it into o
Lilianna »»»◈««« We walked to the car and Marco glanced at me with a hint of a smile. "I never thought my wife would be a supermodel." I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a supermodel." "Yet," he added, his voice smooth and confident. He walked beside me with a relaxed stride, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His movements were unhurried, exuding a quiet, effortless charm that made it impossible to ignore him. Marco opened the door for me, and I got in. Then, he walked around the car and sat in the driver's seat. He drove the car while I tried to maintain my distance, turning toward the window and watching the city blur by. Every now and then, I stole a glance at him, especially when I noticed we were taking an unusual route. The roads grew increasingly unfamiliar, and a knot of unease began to form in my stomach. "Are we even going home?" I finally asked, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice. "Nope," he answered, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Then where are we g