Se connecterWelcome to Blackwood University, where the tuition costs a fortune, but the secrets cost your life. I thought a scholarship to the country’s most elite university was my ticket out of the shadows. I was wrong. I didn’t just walk into a school; I walked into a lion’s den. And sitting on the throne is Niccolò De Luca. Nico is beautiful, brilliant, and brutal. He is the heir to the most powerful crime syndicate on the East Coast, and he runs this campus like his personal kingdom. He breaks hearts, he breaks bones, and now, he’s decided to break me. Not because I’m the scholarship case. But because he knows who I really am. I am the daughter of the man who stole millions from the De Luca family and vanished. Nico intends to use me to lure my father out of hiding. His plan is simple: torment me until I break, make my life a living hell, and keep me under his thumb until the debt is paid in blood. But the line between hate and obsession is razor-thin. When his torment turns into possessiveness, and his taunts turn into touches I can’t refuse, the game changes. I was supposed to be his pawn, but I’m becoming his weakness. Now, with a rival family closing in on campus and my father’s enemies circling, Nico has to make a choice: Hand me over to settle the score... or burn the world down to keep me. "You think you can hide from me in the library, little mouse?" Nico whispered, his breath hot against the shell of my ear as he pinned me against the stacks. "You are living on borrowed time. And unfortunately for you, I’m the one collecting the interest."
Voir plusMatteo’s POVI sat at the kitchen island, the penthouse was dark. Three guns lay in front of me, I was cleaning them."It is three in the morning," a quiet voice said.I looked up. Sloane stood in the doorway. She wore my old gray t-shirt. Her bare legs looked soft in the moonlight."I know," I replied.She walked over and took a seat on the stool next to me. She glanced at the gun in my hands."You already cleaned that one," Sloane said. "Twice."I stopped wiping the metal barrel and set the cloth down. She was right."I am just thinking," I explained."About the wedding?" she asked."About the war," I corrected.Sloane sighed and reached out to touch my hand. Her fingers were cold, I intertwined my fingers with hers and held on tightly."We will win, Matteo," she said softly. "We always win.""This is different," I said. I looked into her eyes. "This is Massimo and Lorenzo. They know all our secrets, they know how we fight.""Then we fight differently," she responded.I shook my hea
Elena’s POVI stared at the bloody silk on the floor, then turned to Nico."Wait," I said.He paused with his hand on the bathroom doorknob. "What is it?""The wedding," I whispered. "We don't cancel it."Nico frowned. "You just said we are planning a war.""The wedding is the war, Nico." I stepped closer. "If we stop, they win. They want us to be afraid, they want us to hide."Nico studied my face. "It will be a trap, Elena. Everyone will be there. My father won't stop trying to kill you.""I don’t care," I said. My voice was steady. "We do it on the exact same day, at the exact same church. We make them watch us take the throne."Nico’s eyes brightened. He pulled me in and kissed my forehead. "You are crazy. And you are perfect."I put on a clean black shirt and sweatpants. We walked out of the bedroom into the home office.Matteo, Dante, Sloane, and Bianca waited for us.The room felt heavy with grief. Dante sat in a chair, staring blankly at the floor, he looked completely broken.
ELENA POV"Are you hit?" Nico demanded. His hands moved quickly, checking my arms, my chest, my legs."I'm fine," I gasped. I looked down at my wedding dress. The blood was red against the silk. "Nico, you’re bleeding."He touched the side of his neck. A sharp piece of marble had cut deep into his skin. He stared at the blood on his fingers as if it meant nothing."Get to the hallway," he ordered. "Crawl. Do not stand up."I crawled over the broken glass. The cold wind howled through the shattered window, freezing the sweat on my skin.Sloane grabbed my arm and pulled me behind the concrete wall of the corridor. Bianca was right next to her, pale and shaking.The private elevator dinged, the doors flew open.Matteo and Dante rushed out, their guns raised."Who did it?" Matteo yelled. His eyes searched the ruined living room. "Where is the shooter?""Gone," Sloane said coldly. "It was a sniper from the south tower."Dante looked at Nico. Nico was leaning against the wall, pressing a wh
Book three of Owned by the king of blackwood A mafia's wedding dress doesn't just need to look beautiful it also needs to hide a gun.I stood on the pedestal, staring at my reflection while Bianca yanked the corset laces so tight I could barely pull air into my lungs."B, stop," I gasped, clutching the mirror. "You’re going to crack a rib.""Beauty is pain, Elena," Bianca snapped, her mouth full of pins. "You’re marrying the King of New York in two weeks. You aren’t walking down that aisle looking soft."Across the room, Sloane was sprawled upside down on a sofa, flipping a silver throwing knife. Flip. Catch. Flip. Catch. "It needs more pockets," Sloane said, pointing the blade at my thigh. "Where are you hiding the extra magazines? You can’t put them in the bouquet. It’ll ruin your aim when you have to toss it."I forced a laugh. "Matteo and Dante have six rings of security around the cathedral, Sloane. It’s the safest place in the city."Sloane sat up, sheathing the knife in her bo
I couldn't go back to the room. I couldn't sit in that beautiful, cold cage and stare at the dress I was supposed to wear to my execution.When the SUV dropped us off at the manor, Nico disappeared into his study with Matteo to discuss business; I assumed that meant making sure my uncle stayed in p
I washed my face three times, the cold water didn't stop me from shaking. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I looked the same—same dark eyes, same mouth, same hair, but I wasn't the same anymore, I felt like a traitor. I checked the time. 9:05 AM. Class had started. I had to go i
I didn’t sleep.The piece of paper with my uncle’s name on it sat on the nightstand. It stared at me all night like a watching eye.Professor Arthur Vance.He was the only person who sent me a birthday card every year. He taught History. He didn't know anything about stolen money or the mafia and N
I stared at the closet door for a full minute before I gathered the courage to touch the handle. My hand hovered, trembling, the brass knob cool against my clammy skin.Don’t make me come get you.I recalled.I pulled the door open.I expected it to be empty, or perhaps filled with my own pathetic,
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