Mag-log inLAURABETH
The moment he shut the door with his foot, he dropped me like frilled lace onto the bed; carefully, as though I were fragile. My thoughts were interrupted by the beige coloration of the room. It made the dim light from the window reflect effortlessly against a large portrait of Vinicio hanging just in front of me. I wondered how an artist could fail to capture how breath-taking he truly was in person.
He left to change, hopefully, and I stood by the window, my hands clutching my wedding dress in nervousness and sheer disbelief. This wasn't my home. My parents' guesthouse was my sanctuary, yet Vinicio had been kind enough to buy it in my name before the wedding. Maybe I will go there after tonight. Maybe he would let me.
I swallowed hard as I noticed his presence behind me. He grabbed my waist gently, and I felt his warm breath coat my neck.
"You'll get used to it, Laurabeth. This is your new home."
I turned slowly and discovered he was now draped in a robe, his chest bare. I quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sight of him. "My home for three months, Vinicio. This would never be my home."
He nodded calmly, tilting his head so his green eyes met mine. "True... but you'll stay for as long as you need to, as the contract stipulated."
I concurred, though not as swiftly as I expected. He stepped closer, and my breath caught as he moved a few paces back from me. "Come," he commanded.
I scoffed. "No. I’m not some..."
"You're my wife." His lips twitched in amusement.
"Are you always this controlling?"
He glanced at me briefly. "To keep things under control. To keep you... my pumpkin."
He pulled me even closer. I hated the nickname he gave me without permission; it always made my cheeks burn, and I wanted to correct that shyness. I leaned into his arms, looking straight into his eyes. He knew what I wanted, so he allowed me kiss him. My lips brushed his, just my way of teasing him; of proving I was more than useless. 'Stupid' was a strong word; I wouldn't use it on myself like my father does.
Our lips locked a second after my taunt. I felt him inhale into my mouth, almost like a breath of relief. His grip tightened around my waist.
“No, Laura… we can’t,” he pulled away slowly.
My stomach tightened in dismay, and I swallowed eagerly. "I know what this is. You don’t need to deprive me of it..."
His withdrawal only made me anxious. "You've never been this intimate before, have you?" he claimed, reaching for his temple and rubbing it slowly.
"That's none of your business-"
"It is now.” He forced a chuckle.
"I thought you wanted a physical relationship with me?" Every man did. They’d always ask my father if I was a virgin, if I was untouched. There was never a dinner party where a man didn’t ask if I had a boyfriend. And yet, this man was running away from me as if he didn’t want it.
"You are young," he whispered. It was a forbidden word, one my parents forbade every time I said it.
"I'm your wife, Vinicio."
He let out a sigh before moving to sit at the edge of the bed. He found a glass of wine, and with every sip, I felt his eyes moving over me while I changed into the lingerie I had prepared for this night. As Mother said: ‘Get in his bed, get in his head; that’s the only way to sustain a man.’
His gaze sharpened, and I noticed him narrowing his eyes at me. Perhaps it was because I ignored the flower-patterned pajamas the maids had prepared. I was trained for this moment; slim-teas for a ‘girly’ waistline, exercises for a curvy body. And the hard truth was, they worked. The lingerie was excellent; it ensured I appeared fully naked underneath, my fair skin complementing the deep red color perfectly.
“So, you don’t want me… why?” I muttered, walking toward him slowly. Every step was deliberate as my heart sped uncontrollably. I stopped in front of him, and as expected for a man, he reached out and pulled me reluctantly towards him.
"I do, but not right now. Just lie down, Laurabeth."
I did as instructed, but not as he expected. I leaned in for a long, intended kiss. My hands moved intentionally and pressed against his cock; I knew he was large - a single palm couldn't go around him. He moaned into my mouth, and I stopped. I removed my lingerie, tossing it to the opposite side of the room.
“I should go to bed, husband,” I stated, completely naked, obeying his previous command. He let me.
However, he got onto the bed immediately after. I heard his robe fall to the carpet as he lay beside me. From his ragged breath and delayed movement, I knew his body was willing, and my obedience had made his mind follow suit.
He soon started trailing soft kisses around my shoulder blades. His hands were not idle; they grabbed and massaged my ass in a rhythm that made my stomach flutter with pleasure. I reached for his cock again, and this time, he didn’t let me.
He let out a growl, putting me in one place and pinning my hands to the bed. His lips found my left nipple, and the sensation made my brain go numb, my legs shaky even while lying down.
“I warned you, pumpkin,” he grumbled after my first cry for him to slow down. But he could tell I was lying because I couldn't stop grinding my clit against his upper thigh.
I shivered when his fingers found my pussy. The touch made me realize how wet I was. He slid two fingers around my clit playfully, and it only made me moan shamelessly. I could feel the urge in my stomach, my body breathing, expecting what followed as he slid those fingers in effortlessly.
“Vinicio…” I gasped. He chuckled.
“You’re so wet, Laura… I won’t be gentle.” He looked up, straight through my naked body and into my eyes. “Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, and I’ll double it.”
He kissed my navel, bending low, and I shifted my pussy forward and upward, placing it directly against his mouth. The warmth that followed was absolute; my body burned for more. His fingers moved in sequence, every thrust making my hips move to his rhythm.
He paused and removed his hand. I felt the heavy pressure against me, something much larger, and I got excited. My body arched for it already, even as I wondered if I could take him.
“Relax, Laura,” he murmured, noticing I was tense. When words didn't work, he pressed his lips to mine and kissed me deeply. It made me… calm; his smooth lips didn't leave mine until he drove himself in.
“Oh my god… V-Vinicio,” I hissed. He lowered his pace, letting me absorb what I could.
“You have to take every bit, Pumpkin,” he mumbled, almost a plea, before pushing through. I let him. Another moan broke, and although my head throbbed with the intensity, the pain vanished as I felt filled. Every space was occupied by something new: Vinicio.
“Good girl, you take daddy in perfectly.” Every thrust that followed sent hot air coursing through my body, and soon I felt the buildup of excitement. “I think… I’m coming…”
“Me too, Pumpkin, me too,” he concurred in the same instant.
A burst of pleasure filled my body, and I felt him fill me as he moaned in release. We breathed for a while, staring at each other, before he moved again.
“I hope you survive the third round, pumpkin.” He smirked, and I knew it was going to be a long night.
POV: VinicioSix weeks. That was how long the world had been spinning without my family in it. Six weeks of living in the crawlspaces of this city, eating dust and sleeping with a shotgun across my chest, waiting for the right moment to pull the pins on the foundation of Teresa’s new empire.Today, the foundation cracked.I stood on the periphery of the cordoned-off wreck that had once been a safehouse in the harbor district. The air was thick, choked with the smell of wet charcoal and scorched timber. Firefighters were still hosing down the charred skeleton of the building, the steam rising into the cold morning air like the breath of some dying beast.Two body bags were being loaded into the back of a coroner’s van.My heart did a stuttering, violent jump in my chest. Even knowing the plan, even knowing the stakes, the sight of those black bags made the world tilt."They're gone, Vinicio," a voice said.I didn't turn around. I didn't have to. I knew the cadence, the smug, honey-coat
POV: VinicioThe safehouse was a hollowed-out wreck of a cabin somewhere in the northern woods, miles away from the city, miles away from the life that had tried to chew us up and spit us out. The only sound was the rhythmic thrum of the rain against the tin roof and the occasional, soft whimper of Thomas.My son. Thomas.I looked at the name on his birth certificate, a scrap of paper that felt heavier than a tombstone. He was sleeping in a travel crib in the corner, his small chest rising and falling in a steady, perfect rhythm. He didn't know that his father was a ghost. He didn't know that the empire his grandfather had built was currently being dismantled and sold off by a woman who wouldn't have blinked if we had all been turned to ash.I was sitting at the small, scarred wooden table, a burner phone in front of me. I'd made the call. I'd made the arrangements. And I'd made the choice that was going to tear my heart out of my chest.Laurabeth walked over. She was quiet, her movements
POV: VinicioThe air in the alley was thick with the scent of ozone and the coming rain. I was walking, my heart pounding in my ears, Laurabeth pressed against my side, our son a warm weight in the crook of my arm. My boots hit the pavement with a heavy, final rhythm. I could hear the shouting behind us, the police swarming the warehouse, the chaotic, frantic energy of Teresa putting on the performance of a lifetime.She was a brilliant actress. She always had been.But something about the way she had looked at me, that shark-like glint in her eyes, refused to settle in my gut. I stopped under the flickering yellow glow of a streetlamp, the shadows stretching out like fingers grabbing at my feet."Vinicio?" Laurabeth's voice was a broken whisper. She looked at the black sedan idling at the end of the alley, then back at the warehouse. "Are we really doing this? Are we just... leaving?"I looked at the car. It was a clean getaway. A life of anonymity, of safety, of peace. No more targets o
POV: VinicioI didn't hear the silence of the warehouse until I was already inside. It was the kind of silence that screamed. My gun was out, my heart was beating a rhythm of pure, unadulterated terror, and every shadow in that graveyard of corrugated metal looked like a killer waiting to drop me.I'd been driving like a man possessed, dodging every logical instinct to go to the police, to call for backup, to do anything other than charge headlong into the darkness. I hadn't come for a firefight. I had come for a miracle.I rounded the final partition, the heavy steel door of the shipping container hanging off its hinges like a broken jaw. I braced myself for the sight of Marchetti, ready to put a dozen rounds into his chest before he even knew I was there.I stopped dead.Marchetti was on the ground. He wasn't moving. There was a crater in the center of his forehead that told me he wasn't getting up, not that day, not ever. The blood was still wet, pooling into the cracks of the conc
POV: LaurabethMy breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Every inhale felt like fire scraping through my lungs. My chest burned, my body was exhausted beyond anything I had ever known, and my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird desperate to escape. Blood still seeped slowly from the wounds I’d sustained during the escape attempt, warm and sticky against my torn clothes. The cold steel floor of the shipping container pressed into my back, the restraints biting into my wrists and ankles. I was pinned, helpless, but I would not let go of the tiny bundle tucked protectively against my chest.Marchetti loomed over me, his shadow stretching long and menacing across the dim space. He smelled of cold earth, expensive cigars, and something sharper—victory. His long-fingered hand inched toward my son.“Move,” I hissed, my voice raw and broken from screaming earlier. “I don’t care that I’m bleeding. I don’t care that I’m tied to this filthy floor. I would tear your throat out with
POV: LaurabethThe world had narrowed down to two things: the white-hot agony in my core and the cold, unyielding reality of the duct tape over my mouth.I was in a shipping container. I knew this because every time the wind howled outside, the metal walls groaned like a dying beast. It was dark, except for the flickering light of a single dying bulb, and the air was thick with the smell of rust and motor oil.My son. I had to think about him. Not the pain. Not the fact that my wrists were rubbed raw from the zip-ties biting into my skin.I felt another contraction, and it was worse than the ones before. It was a tidal wave of pressure that threatened to snap my spine. I arched my back against the hard plastic of the chair, my head hitting the metal wall behind me with a dull thud. A muffled sob broke through my throat, vibrating against the tape.I looked at the tablet resting on a pile of crates across the room. The screen was dim, but I could see Vinicio. He was kneeling on the con
VINICIO POVI knew striking a deal with this delicate young girl was a bad idea but she was fiery, as expected, as her father warned me two years back, in a party at her house, I guess she doesn’t recognize me. However, I was out of time and options; I needed to be able to access my inheritance and
ELARA“Do you take Vinicio Teo Rossini as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health?”I stared wordlessly at the priest, lost in thought. How did I get here?I felt my heart burst in pain when I found our belongings piled outside the doorpost; my mother clinging t
VINICIO POV“Are you alright?” I finally broke the tension immediately we got to the car. I knew how to handle boardrooms and blood-feuds, and a part of me wanted to simply crush whatever was eating her up so I could have my wife back to her normal self.“Yes-”“No. You’re not coming out of this ca
Laurabeth POVThe hospital hallway felt blindingly bright. The sharp smell of chemicals stung my nose with every breath. I hated every second here. The squeak of rubber shoes on the tile floor and the constant beeping of machines made my heart jump each time. My mother lay behind those closed doors







