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Like Fire and Ice
Huling Na-update:
2025-07-20 23:31:56
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My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? The Ghost in the House
Nico:I cleaned my gun by muscle memory.Every click, every snap of the chamber, was just another way to keep my hands from doing what they really wanted to do—like punch Matteo’s teeth down his throat. Or slit Luca’s perfect jaw just deep enough to watch him bleed guilt onto polished marble.Not that I would.Not yet.But the thought soothed something in me.It was dangerous, the way silence sharpened inside these walls. The penthouse was dark—too dark—lit only by the low city glow bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling glass. Outside, the skyline blinked like a thousand judgmental eyes. Inside, I simmered in it. In everything I hadn’t said. Everything I hadn’t done.I wanted to believe I didn’t care.God, I tried.But I’d seen her.Serena.Hair wild. Lips swollen. Skin flushed in ways I’d only ever drawn from memory—never from touch.And I’d seen them on her.Matteo’s fingerprints.Luca’s scent.The kind of marks that didn’t wash off in the morning.Proof that I was either too late…
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Sin and Salvation
Serena:I was still gasping when he rose, slow and deliberate, dragging the edge of his mouth across my thigh like a final signature on something sacred.My legs were jelly. My pride, hanging by a thread.And Matteo just stood there—broad, calm, dangerous—with his hunger still caged behind those dark eyes."Say it," he murmured, brushing his knuckles over the inside of my knee.My breath hitched. "Say what?"His gaze dragged up my body, devouring every tremble. "That you want more."I hated that he made me say it.I hated even more how badly I meant it."Matteo..." I whispered, my voice raw and ruined. "Please. I need—"He stepped forward.Just one pace.And my back hit the glass of the balcony doors with a soft gasp."You don't beg easily, do you?" His voice was low, gravel threaded with heat. "But God, when you do…"His hand slid up my side, fingers brushing the swell of my breast, thumb stroking the rapid beat of my heart."You gonna let me take you apart, queen?" he asked, kissing
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? Like Fire and Ice
Serena:They called it neutral ground, but nothing about the Moretti estate was neutral.Not the limestone lions guarding the wrought-iron gates. Not the manicured roses hiding sniper nests. Not the long table set under chandeliers dripping crystal like icicles over a feast no one came to eat.This wasn't a dinner.It was a firing squad with linen napkins.And I'd RSVP'd with hellfire in my smile.Luca drove. Matteo rode shotgun, cracking his knuckles like a prayer. Nico sat beside me in the backseat, cleaning his gold-plated piece with the same care most men reserved for confessions.We pulled up slowly.Respectful.Let them think we were still playing by old rules.As the doors opened, the air changed—sour with betrayal, sharp with secrets. The Valtieri guards nodded us through, but I saw it in their eyes.Fear.Or maybe awe.Hard to tell the difference when you're wearing blood like perfume.I stepped out last, red silk slipping over my legs like spilled wine. My gun was tucked und
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? The Devil Knows my Name
The war council wasn’t held in some marble hall with velvet drapes and crystal chandeliers.It was in the back of a butcher’s shop in Little Sicily—meat hooks swaying from the ceiling, bloodstains on the tile, and the scent of iron thick in the air.Fitting, really.Dante wanted blood?He'd get it.Nico kicked the door closed behind us as Luca slammed down the crate of burner phones and blueprints. Matteo flicked the safety off his gun and placed it calmly beside the butcher’s block.All of us still soaked to the bone, steam rising off our skin like the ghosts of the men we’d already buried.“Someone tipped him off,” Matteo said. “He knew when we’d come, where we’d enter, how long it’d take to breach.”“He’s got moles,” Nico said, voice low and lethal. “Probably in the police, maybe in our suppliers. Could be anywhere.”Luca cracked his neck. “We smoke ‘em out. One by one. Or we burn the whole system down.”I leaned over the table and unrolled a map of the east-side territories. Red p
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? The Queen of the Bloody Game
The black Escalade growled beneath us like a coiled beast, tires eating pavement as we sped through the city's underbelly. The scent of gun oil and leather clung to the air like a second skin. I'd traded in silk for something sharper—black pants tight as sin, a holster on my thigh, matte lipstick blood-dark.Tonight, I didn't need to play the pretty pawn.Tonight, I was the queen."He's baiting you," Matteo said from the passenger seat, voice low and edged with grit. "Dante wants you out in the open.""Good," I murmured, my eyes on the rain-slicked streets ahead. "Let him see what happens when you corner a queen."From the back seat, Luca let out a grunt. "He doesn't think you've got it in you. Still sees you as the girl behind the bar, not the woman who burned his last safehouse to ash.""I hope he does," I said. "It'll make watching his face crack that much sweeter."Beside Luca, Nico cracked his knuckles and smirked. "He's expecting fear. Let's serve him vengeance on a silver fuckin
My Mafia Stepbrothers Want Me? The Weapon Wakes
The hallway stank of bleach and something metallic, like blood that had been scrubbed too many times but never truly gone.Each flickering bulb overhead buzzed like a warning.I walked anyway.Boots silent on concrete, spine straight, heart steady. I knew how they wanted me to feel—trapped, alone, afraid.They didn’t understand me at all.Fear wasn’t my enemy anymore.It was my fuel.Another camera followed me. I felt it move. I didn’t look at it.The corridor opened into a wider room. Still industrial. Still bare.But at the center stood a chair—thick steel frame, leather restraints curling like dead vines across the arms.Beside it, a table.On it, a photograph.My mother.Tied to a chair. Eyes swollen. Mouth gagged.Alive.My hand didn’t shake as I picked it up. But I felt the tremor inside—the shudder of rage that curled under my ribs and whispered, kill him slow.The screen on the far wall blinked to life.And there he was.Dante Moretti.Leaning back in a high-backed chair, dark
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