Mag-log inOne night. No names. No past. Danika thought it was just a mistake a stranger she would never see again. A man who made her forget everything for one reckless night. But fate had other plans. Because the man she gave herself to… Isn’t just anyone. He’s a mafia king. And worse He’s a De Belladonna. Years ago, Danika was abandoned by the man she loved when he left for another country, leaving her behind to raise their child alone. Determined to move on, she built a quiet life far from the dangerous world he came from. Until one night changes everything. When the truth about the stranger is revealed, it’s already too late. Dante De Belladonna cold, powerful, and dangerously obsessed refuses to let her go. Drawn to her in ways he can’t explain, he beg weins to break down her walls and earn her trust… even as secrets threaten to destroy everything. But just when Danika starts to believe in him The past returns. Lorenzo De Belladonna is back. The man who broke her heart. The father of her child. And this time… he wants her again. Caught between two powerful brothers one who left her and one who refuses to Danika must choose between the past she survived and the dangerous future pulling her in. Because loving a De Belladonna was never safe… But walking away might be impossible.
view moreDante's pov Dante stands frozen in the doorway his eyes locked on a scene that makes his blood boil so hot he feels like he might explode. Right there in the center of the Persian rug, his brother Lorenzo has his hands all over Danika. Not just a polite touch, but a possessive, filthy grip. Lorenzo’s large hand is cupping Danika’s ass, his fingers digging deep into the soft flesh through her dress, pulling her hips flush against his own. Dante can see the way Lorenzo’s thumb is rubbing dangerously close to the crease of her thigh, a motion that screams intimacy and ownership. Dante’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles turning white as the urge to rush over and smash his brother’s face in surges through him. He wants to tear Lorenzo’s hands off her, to pummel him until he bleeds for daring to touch the woman Dante has been fucking senseless for months. The rage is a living thing inside him, a beast clawing at his throat. But then, a cold, calculated thought slithers into his
The air in the room feels heavy, thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the dust of old money. Danika stands rigid beside Mr. Ethan, her fingers gripping the leather strap of her bag so tightly the knuckles turn white. The name hangs in the air like a guillotine blade—De Belladonna. It slices through the memory of the boy she thought she knew, the man she let inside her body and heart. Lorenzo. A De Belladonna. The realization hits her gut with the force of a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. He hadn’t just omitted the truth; he had constructed an entire reality of lies, brick by lying brick, while she poured her soul out to him. The resemblance is undeniable now that she looks—the sharp, aristocratic jawline, the cold, obsidian eyes, the way they hold themselves with an innate sense of ownership. They are brothers. The thought makes her skin crawl. Dante and Lorenzo, bound by blood and deceit. She feels sick, a wave of nausea rolling through her stomach as th
The pale gray light of dawn filters through the sheer curtains, casting long, muted stripes across the bedroom floor. Danika’s eyes flutter open, the heavy haze of sleep clinging to her limbs. She stretches, the sheets sliding down her naked torso, exposing the heavy curve of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach. The cool morning air raises goosebumps on her skin, tightening her nipples into hard, sensitive peaks. She glances at the clock; it is far too early, but the anticipation buzzing beneath her skin keeps her from lying back down. Mr. Ethan is coming. She swings her legs out of bed, her feet touching the cold hardwood. Standing before the full-length mirror, she runs her hands over her hips, smoothing down the imaginary creases in her skin. She selects a pencil skirt that hugs her ass tight enough to outline the cheeks and a silk blouse that clings to her chest. After dressing, she pads softly into the living room. Catherine is already there, perched on the edge o
Lorenzo. He looks nothing like the boy Danika remembers. He has filled out, the sharp angles of his face hardened by time and discipline. His suit is tailored to perfection, hugging thick thighs and a chest that strains against the crisp white fabric. A dusting of grey peppers his temples, giving him a look of mature authority that makes Danika’s knees threaten to buckle. His eyes, dark and piercing, sweep the room before locking onto hers. The shock hits him like a physical blow. His jaw goes slack, the confident smirk he wore evaporating instantly. His hand, halfway to adjusting his cuff, drops to his side. Danika’s grip on the folders tightens until her knuckles turn white, the plastic edges digging painfully into her palms. She cannot breathe. The scent of him—sandalwood and expensive tobacco, mixed with the faint, ghostly smell of rain—invades her senses, dragging up memories she has buried for years. "Danika?" Lorenzo breathes, his voice a rough rumble that scrapes again
Cat gave Danika a full tour of the house, moving from room to room with excitement as she pointed out everything—from the spacious living room to the cozy kitchen. “And this,” Cat said, pushing open a door with a proud smile, “is your room.” Danika stepped inside slowly, her eyes scanning the sp
*November 17th* The low hum of the airplane filled the cabin as passengers settled into their seats, the soft murmur of voices blending with the occasional rustle of bags being tucked away. Danika sat by the window, her fingers lightly gripping the armrest as she stared outside. The runway light
Danika went silent for a while. The ticking of the wall clock suddenly felt louder, filling the space between her and Cat. “No,” she finally said, her face straight, her tone firm but tired. “I know I need the job, but not this far, Cat. What do you want me to do, hmm?” Cat leaned forward, her
A small, quiet town called Raven Hollow the kind of place where nothing ever seemed to change. The afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen window as Danika stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands deep in soapy water. The scent of fried rice and peppered chicken still lingered in the air.












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