ログインI'm the De Luca family's dirty little secret, their bastard daughter. And I was stupid enough to fall for Marco Moretti, the heir to our rivals. On our wedding day, my sister, Isabella, drugged me. When I woke up, she was wearing my dress. Standing at the altar. Becoming his wife. Heartbroken, I ran to a bar to drown my sorrow. And that’s where I discovered I was pregnant. Marco held me, crying. He swore he loved me, only me. He promised he’d divorce Isabella as soon as our child was born. But on the day I gave birth, Isabella murdered us both. Me and my baby. That’s when I finally understood. Marco would always choose a true-blooded princess of the Cosa Nostra. And me? The bastard? I was just a loose end. A problem to be erased. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day she drugged me. Their wedding day. This time, I'm not marrying the heir. I'm marrying the Don. But first... I'm going to ruin this wedding.
もっと見るChapter 1
Harper’s POV
“Shit, the hallway looks clear,” I whispered to myself, my heart slamming against my ribs as I peeked around the corner one last time.
My palms were sweaty, and I wiped them on my tight black skirt before I slipped into Luca Mateo’s massive office like a thief.
The door clicked shut behind me way too loud in the quiet space.
And immediately my phone rang which made me jump hard.
“Oh shit, that scared me!”I muttered to myself as I brought out my phone and swiped the answer button.
“Mum, I will call you later,” I said immediately.
“Don’t forget to come immediately after work, you will be meeting your new dad”
“Okay okay, no problem.” I said and hung up. Mum is remarrying after 5 years since we lost our dad, and she will introduce us to him this evening.
I put the phone back in my pocket, then looked around.
I needed that goddamn file, the organization had been very clear this morning when they shoved the photo of him in my face and reminded me what would happen if I backed out now.
Find anything that looks important, Harper. Anything at all within three days. Your friends remain our hostages until you do.
Their voices still rang in my head. I had no choice, not after they made it clear they’d kill my friends, if I tried to run. We shouldn’t have gone to the damn club last night, it was my fault.
So here I was, playing secretary on day one while spying on the most feared man in the country—as they put it.
I moved fast, opening drawers, flipping through folders on his desk, my breath coming short.
The office smelled like expensive wine and something darker, like smoke and cologne that made my stomach tighten.
My fingers shook a little as I searched. Come on, where the hell is it?
That was when I heard footsteps, my heart slammed against my ribs.
“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath.
I quickly dropped to my knees and slid under the big mahogany desk just as the door swung open.
My ass scraped the carpet, and I pulled my legs in tight, curling into the smallest ball I could manage.
The desk was deep enough, but my heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it.
Luca Mateo walked in. I knew it was him the second his shiny black shoes stopped right in front of the desk.
Those shoes cost more than our rent for a year. We are not poor, but he’s definitely on another level.
He dropped into the leather chair with a heavy sigh, the wheels rolling a little.
His legs spread wide, knees parting like he owned every inch of the room… well he does though.
And my eyes dropped where they shouldn’t have, and it was there to my right at eye level, the thick bulge straining against his expensive pants, only inches from my face.
I bit my lip hard to stay quiet.
He looked exactly like the picture they showed me, but goddamn, the photo didn’t do him justice.
He wasn’t some old forty-year-old monster. He looked younger and sharper, all his dark hair and hard jaw, the kind of man who made women stupid just by walking past.
My thighs pressed together without me meaning to.
He leaned back, one hand landing on the desk above me.I heard the zipper, the metal teeth separating one by one.
I—I hope he isn’t doing what I was thinking?
My eyes widened as I saw his heavy cock sprang free, thick and long, already half-hard and veined, the head flushed dark.
“What the fuck!?” I screamed in my head. Why the hell is he that hard?
His cock hung there heavy, swaying slightly as he wrapped one big hand around the base and gave it one slow stroke.
“Fuck… been too long,” he growled low, his voice was rough.
My mouth fell open, and I tried to look away, but I couldn’t look away.
He stroked again, slower this time, his thumb rubbing over the thick head, spreading the bead of precum that leaked out.
His cock twitched in his grip, growing even thicker and longer, the veins standing out.
Another stroke, harder. A deep groan tore out of his throat, raw and filthy.
My pussy clenched so hard I almost whimpered. Heat flooded between my legs, sudden and embarrassing, soaking my panties.
Harper! This isn’t why you’re here!
I squeezed my thighs tighter, but it only made it worse.
The ache was instant, deep, my clit throbbing like it had a heartbeat of its own.
He started pumping faster, his fist sliding up and down that massive dick with wet, obscene sounds.
“That’s it… fuck,” he muttered, hips lifting slightly off the chair. His balls looked heavy, they were drawn tight, and every time his hand came down they shifted.
I could smell him now, musky and male, so strong under the desk it made my head spin.
I was dripping, I was actually dripping.
I felt a trickle slide down my inner thigh and I wanted to die from how turned on I was.
My nipples were tight against my bra, rubbing every time I breathed.
Before I knew what I was actually doing, I pressed my palm between my legs over my skirt, just for pressure, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t moan.
He was really going at it now, hand flying, the chair creaking under him, rough groans spilled from his mouth, louder each time.
“Shit… I need to cum…”
My own pussy spasmed at his words.
I imagined it was me he was thinking about, imagined that thick cock stretching me open, filling me up until I couldn’t breathe.
I was losing my mind, I shouldn’t even be doing this at all.
My fingers pressed harder against my clit through my clothes, small circles that made my toes curl in my heels.
Then he shifted.
He pushed the chair back a little, his knees folding higher, spreading wider.
One of his legs moved forward and his shin brushed right against my side, pinning me there.
My eyes flew wide open. Is he about to look under his desk right now!?
I screamed it in my head, panic and lust twisting together so tight I couldn’t tell which was stronger.
My whole body went rigid, breath trapped in my lungs.
His cock was still out, still hard and leaking, inches from my face, and now his leg was trapping me under the desk like he owned me already.
I didn’t move. I closed my eyes immediately, expecting the worst.
“What are you doing?”
My blood froze immediately.
We were so close I could see every flicker of light in his eyes.The air was thick with danger and desire.But I gently pushed him away.“Thank you for the offer,” I said, taking a step back. “But what I want is freedom.”Dante looked surprised, but a smile quickly returned to his face. “Freedom?”“Yes.” I put down my wine glass. “I'm done with the plotting. The blood. I’m done with this life. I want out. A clean slate, somewhere no one knows my name.”“Are you sure?” Dante asked again. “Stay here, and you could have everything.”“I’m sure,” my voice was firm. “Dante, thank you for helping me get my revenge. But I don’t belong here.”Dante looked at me, a hint of regret in his eyes.“Alright then,” he nodded. “If freedom is what you choose, I’ll make it happen.”Three days later, at Dante’s estate.I stood in the garden, watching my mother water flowers in the sun.It was the most peaceful I had seen her in twenty years.“What are you thinking about?” Dante asked, walking up to me.“Th
“Stop!”An authoritative voice boomed.My father strode toward us. He’d been stunned, but now he had put his mask of a family patriarch back on.“Dante, I admit Marco betrayed your family. He deserves to be punished,” my father’s voice was steady. “But Isabella is my daughter. She is a De Luca. Her fate is for me to decide.”Dante looked at my father, a cold glint in his eye.“Mr. De Luca. Are you telling me how to do my job?”“I wouldn’t dare,” my father said with a slight bow. “But how we handle our own is our family’s business. No one else’s.”He was right. It was an old-school rule of the Mafia.Whispers started in the pews. People were nodding. Antonio had a point.“Besides,” my father continued, “Isabella was just manipulated by Marco. The real culprit has already been punished.”“Father,” I said, my voice calm. “Are you sure you want to protect her?”“She is my daughter,” he said, looking at me. “Just as you are my daughter.”“But she tried to kill me.”“It was a misunderstandi
After Sofia’s speech, a cold smile spread across Dante’s face.“Sofia, you’re right. I am just the acting Don.”His voice was calm, but every word hit like a hammer.“But do you know why I’ve been ‘acting’ for so long?”Sofia froze. “What… what do you mean?”“Because I was waiting,” Dante said, walking slowly toward her. “Waiting for Marco to show his true colors.”He pulled a flash drive from his pocket and held it up for everyone to see.“I have some interesting things on here. About what your perfect heir, Marco, has been up to.”Marco’s face went ghost-white. “Uncle, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”“You don’t?” Dante sneered. “Vincent, play it.”Vincent took the drive and plugged it into the church’s projector.The large screen lit up with recordings and documents.The first audio file was Marco’s voice: “I’d do anything for Isabella. That bastard Lucas hurt her, and I’m going to make sure he loses every penny he has in Vegas.”The second was a bank record, showing Marco h
The chair stopped in mid-air.My father’s arms were frozen, his whole body shaking.Dante Moretti stood in the doorway of the church.The long black coat, the silver-topped cane, and the eyes that made the entire New York mafia tremble.He walked slowly into the church, each footstep a hammer blow in the dead silence.Behind him, a dozen men in black, all with stone-cold faces.“Don Dante!” Sofia rushed to him. “You’re just in time! This woman forged your orders and threatened our whole family!”Isabella ran over too. “Uncle Dante! She said she’s your woman! It’s an insult to you!”Marco stepped forward, trying to look calm. “Uncle, by family law, forging the Don’s orders is a death sentence. Please, deliver justice.”They all crowded around Dante, pointing their fingers at me.“She conspired with Vincent to deceive us!”“A bastard, daring to pretend she’s your woman!”“She must be punished, to set an example!”I stood on the other side of the chaos, calmly watching them perform.Dante






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