ANMELDENAvelineTHE PRIVATE spa house at the edge of the estate was filled with warm steam and the soothing scent of eucalyptus.Alejandro had left early that morning for Zurich to finalize a major land acquisition, leaving his security team stationed around the outer perimeter.Inside the heated marble sanctuary, I finally felt completely alone and safe.I rested my head against the smooth stone edge of the indoor pool, allowing the hot turquoise water to reach my shoulders while the underwater jets eased the tension from my muscles.Soft afternoon light filtered through the frosted glass ceiling, turning the steam above me into a pale golden haze.For the first time all week, I could breathe.I closed my eyes and thought about Alejandro. I remembered his gentle smile, the way he held me without making me feel trapped, and the patience he had shown me since bringing me to Switzerland.With him, I had learned that affection did not have to come with fear. His love had given me something I had
SebHEAVY RAIN battered the bulletproof windows of the private harbor office, turning the docks below into a blur of wet asphalt and flickering yellow lights.I stood behind the massive oak desk, pouring two fingers of dark scotch into a crystal glass.My black suit jacket was off, and the sleeves of my white dress shirt were rolled to my forearms.The heavy double doors suddenly burst open.Don Bernardo Moretti entered with six armed capos behind him. His broad frame filled the doorway, his dark fur-collared coat dripping from the rain.And his face was red with anger, and his hand struck the desk hard enough to make my glass tremble.“Fourteen days, Sebastian!” he roared. “Fourteen goddamn days!”I took a slow sip of scotch before looking up at him. “You are shouting in my office, Bernardo.”“I don't give a damn about your office!” he snapped, leaning across the desk. “The board of capos met in Rome this morning. They are finished with your excuses. You keep flying to Switzerland wh
AvelineI SAT at the glass table, cradling a porcelain cup of hot tea between my palms. Alejandro had stepped out to the terrace to review the morning security manifests, leaving me in the quiet warmth of the room.After three days on the yacht, surrounded only by the lake and Alejandro’s devotion, I had almost convinced myself that the shadow of Milan could no longer reach me.A quiet knock sounded at the double glass doors.One of the senior house stewards stepped into the conservatory, carrying a silver tray. Resting on the center of the tray was a small, velvet-lined mahogany box wrapped in thick parchment paper.“A delivery for you, Miss Aveline,” the steward said politely, bowing his head. “It was left at the outer gatehouse moments ago.”“Thank you,” I replied, setting my teacup down.The steward placed the tray on the glass table and withdrew silently, closing the doors behind him.I reached out, my fingers brushing against the cold parchment.There was no shipping label. No r
SebTHE ICY wind blowing off Lake Geneva smelled of pine needles, wet timber, and freezing water.I stood in the deep shadow of an abandoned wooden dock across the quiet cove, concealed by the thick, weeping branches of an ancient willow tree.My dark tactical jacket was soaked from the mist, but I didn't feel the cold. I didn't feel anything except the burning, suffocating rage roaring through my veins.I raised a pair of military-grade thermal binoculars to my eyes, focusing the high-powered lens across the three hundred yards of black water.The three-deck luxury yacht sat anchored in the quiet bay, its underwater LED lights casting a soft, golden aura beneath the dark surface of the lake.My breath caught in my throat as the lens settled on the top sun deck.There she was.Belarina stood near the teak wood railing, wearing a simple white silk dress that fluttered wildly in the evening breeze.Her dark burgundy hair fell in loose, natural waves over her bare shoulders, catching the
AvelineTHE CLEAR blue water of Lake Geneva stretched out in every direction, sparkling like diamonds under the warm afternoon sun.Behind us, the city, the estate, and the looming shadows of Milan faded into distant mountain horizons.We were aboard Alejandro’s seventy-foot luxury yacht, cutting smoothly across the calm lake toward a private cove along the Swiss shoreline.I stood near the upper teak deck railing, wearing a simple white silk sundress that fluttered softly in the warm lake breeze.My dark burgundy hair blew wildly across my shoulders, but for the first time in weeks, my chest felt light.There were no security grids here. No guards whispering in corridors. No Alessandra Moretti dropping subtle threats over porcelain teacups.Alejandro stepped out from the main salon, stepping up behind me on the wooden deck. He wore an unbuttoned white linen shirt and dark trousers, his bare feet silent against the teak floorboards.He wrapped his broad, warm arms around my waist, pul
AvelineTHE AFTERNOON sun over the Geneva Equestrian Club was bright, cold, and blinding.Crisp mountain air drifted over the manicured green paddocks, carrying the clean scents of fresh leather, damp earth, and sweet hay.Wealthy European aristocrats and high-society socialites sat under white linen umbrellas along the raised marble terrace, sipping champagne while watching thoroughbred horses trot gracefully around the dirt ring.I sat at a corner table with Alejandro, wearing an elegant cream-colored tweed blazer over a soft silk blouse, my dark burgundy curls pinned up neatly.Alejandro reached across the table, his warm fingers wrapping gently around my hand. His dark brown eyes were filled with that familiar, protective devotion that always made my heart feel steady.“You look like you belong here, my sweet girl,” Alejandro murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my knuckles. “Quiet, elegant, and breathtaking.”I forced a warm, radiant smile onto my lips, leaning







