DEDICATION đș
This story is for the women whoâve been told their time has passed. The ones whoâve been told that love has an expiration date. That passion has a deadline. I wrote this for you because you still deserve the butterflies. The soft moments and the sinful ones. The second chances and the wild, all-consuming kind of love. Youâre not past your prime, you are the prime and anyone who canât see that? Theyâre not the main characters in this story. So grab your wine, take off your bra, and settle in. Weâre rewriting the damn narrative. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. This book, including all its content, is protected by copyright laws. All rights are reserved by the author, and no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or otherwise utilized in any form or by any meansâwhether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwiseâwithout the express written permission of the copyright holder. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work is prohibited and may result in legal action. Copyright © 2025 by Jane Doe Writings. All rights reserved. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° TRIGGER WARNINGS! The following book contains imagery that some readers may find distressing. This book contains multiple explicit scenes that graphically simulate sexual assault, although every encounter is fully consensual. âąStrong Language âąGraphic Violence and Gore âąMurder/Assassination âąTorture âąGun Violence âąExplicit Sexual Scenes This is a dark romance, which means love is messy, pain is part of the journey, and healing comes at a cost. Please take care of yourself while reading, and know that itâs okay to step away if anything becomes too overwhelming. Your safety and comfort matter more than any chapter. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° POINT OF VIEWS - POVs. This book is written in dual point of view. That said, not every chapter will alternate perspectives. The POV shifts will happen organically, when it makes the most sense for the storyline. Sometimes youâll stay with one character for several chapters if thatâs where the emotional weight or action is strongest. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° UPDATES SCHEDULE I donât have a fixed update schedule for this book, youâll definitely be getting updates, just maybe not every single day. Sometimes I might miss a day or two, and sometimes youâll get two updates in a row. It all depends on my crazy schedule. Please know Iâm doing my absolute best to keep things consistent while juggling exams, hospital rotations, and everything in between. Your patience and support mean the world to me, every comment, like, and read keeps me going, even on the tough days. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° AUTHOR'S NOTE Thank you so much for choosing to read my story, truly, it means the world to me. There are so many incredible books out there, and the fact that you decided to spend time with mine is something I donât take for granted. If you enjoy the story, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback not only helps me grow as a writer but also keeps me company during those long, solitary hours when itâs just me, my coffee, and my characters emotionally ruining each other. Thank you again for being here. I canât wait to share more of this journey with you. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° With all my love, Jane Doe Writings. X O X O đAlessia â âââ âI was still soaked.The white bikini clung to me, and the chill of the air-conditioning hadnât done a thing to stop the heat boiling under my skin.I paced the length of the guest room. Each slap of my wet heel against the marble was a reminder that I had been pushed..That I had fallen. That I had been laughed at like some brainless, half-naked American girl on display.That smug, entitled, infuriating bastard. He thought he could humiliate me in front of his friends, and Iâd what? Just take it? No, I slapped him and he smiled. I wanted to rip his teeth out for it. I shouldâve drowned him instead. A knock hit the door once then it opened before I could speak.I froze.In walked Elisabetta Lombardi, spine straight, pearls on her throat, eyes cold and right behind her still shirtless, still smirking was him.Rino.He had the audacity to wink at me the moment our eyes met.âAlessia,â Elisabetta said smoothly, âI brought Rino to apologize for his inappropriate behavior.
Rinoâđ€âAge 16 | Poolside, Lombardi Estate, LiguriaI leaned back on the lounge chair, sunglasses half-down my nose, bottle of beer sweating between my fingers, water glinting behind me. Fabio flicked his cigarette over the edge of the stone and whistled low. âYouâre in a good mood, Lombardi. Whatâd you do this time, steal another priestâs daughter?âI smirked, âWorse.âGerardo, already half-drunk and burned to hell, leaned forward. âYou get laid again?ââNot yet.â I took a long pull from the bottle, âBut my parents found me a bride.âThe boys went dead quiet for half a beat. Then fucking chaos.âNo fucking way.ââShut up.ââYouâre joking, an arranged marriage?âI let the corner of my mouth twitch into that grin they all hated. âThey want an American,â I said, âCapone blood. Chicago Outfit royalty.âGerardo nearly choked, âThe Capones? Youâre not serious.ââDon Arturo is very serious,â I said, pulling my sunglasses off and tossing them onto the table beside me. âApparently he want
Alessia â âââ âAge 14 | Liguria, SummerI shouldâve worn the Dior sandals.Not because the leather on my Ferragamos pinched, though they did, but because the grass in Liguria had a strange way of swallowing heels whole, no matter how delicately I walked. And I was walking delicately like a young lady just like my mamma told me to.But my patience was already fraying like the hem of my linen skirt. The one Iâd insisted on having tailored in Milan just for this trip, only to realize, after stepping foot on the Lombardi estate, that absolutely no one here understood what real fashion looked like. Except maybe Signora Lombardi, who had a flair for red lipstick and drama. Still, she wasnât exactly competition. She had to be at least forty.Salvatore walked ahead of us, his back straight, like it always got when we visited fellow crime families. He was twenty-four and already thought he ruled the world. He certainly ruled our house back in Chicago, Mamma let him. PapĂ tolerated it. I fou
DEDICATION đșThis story is for the women whoâve been told their time has passed.The ones whoâve been told that love has an expiration date. That passion has a deadline.I wrote this for you because you still deserve the butterflies. The soft moments and the sinful ones. The second chances and the wild, all-consuming kind of love.Youâre not past your prime, you are the prime and anyone who canât see that?Theyâre not the main characters in this story.So grab your wine, take off your bra, and settle in.Weâre rewriting the damn narrative.â±â¶â·â¶â·â°DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. This book, including all its content, is protected by copyright laws. All rights are reserved by the author, and no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or othe