Se connecter"You don't belong in this world of mine," Liam whispered, his lips inches from mine. "But I'm selfish, and I can't let you go." "I want to stay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'm falling for you too, Liam." - I should be sneering, laughing even. How blind could he be? Liam Sterling—the killer, master manipulator, the ruthless, untouchable king of New York’s underworld—brought to his knees by the one woman sworn to tear him apart. For years, revenge was all I had. Liam destroyed my family, tore my life apart, leaving me with nothing but rage. I rebuilt myself piece by piece, every step driven by the thought of making him pay. But then... I got close to him. Close enough to touch. His touch is fire, burning through every wall I’ve built. Each kiss, every stolen moment, weakens my defenses, awakening a need that terrifies me. How can I want him like this? Crave him, when every scar I carry is a reminder of all he’s taken? I should hate him. I should destroy him. But when he looks at me, when he holds me like I’m something he needs to protect, I’m lost. And as I watch him break, all I feel is a strange, hollow ache where satisfaction should be. How can I keep fighting him, when I’m already falling, already broken, for the man I was supposed to ruin?
Voir plusMONIQUEI woke up alone on the couch, wrapped in one of Liam's soft throws. For a second, I was disoriented, blinking against the early morning light streaming in through the large windows of his penthouse. My muscles were stiff, but the fabric felt warm, comforting even. I tried to piece together the events of the previous night. I remembered making dinner, pasta. We ate, talked, and eventually drifted off to sleep on the couch. But then... I remembered the nightmare, or at least fragments of it. I didn't remember waking up, but Liam's voice came back to me, soft and reassuring, trying to calm me. Why was I still having these nightmares? I thought I had come to terms with this relationship between us, even if I was still out to avenge my parents' deaths.The door to the living room creaked, and I glanced up to see Liam walking in, dressed sharply in his suit, ready for work. He looked like th
LIAMMonique had been spending more time than usual in my penthouse. We were unofficially a vanilla couple. It was unspoken, but we'd fallen into this rhythm, as if we were a couple without the labels. Her toothbrush stood next to mine in the bathroom, her delicate lace underwear mixed in with my clothes in a drawer she'd claimed. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I didn't hate it. In fact, part of me liked it more than I wanted to admit.I rolled over on a lazy Sunday morning, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monique's voice, soft and playful, reached my ears. She was on the phone, probably with Sophie. I could hear them giggling about something, but I couldn't make out the details. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, but it didn't last. My thoughts had a way of drifting back to darker places lately.My sister.
LIAMThe call came in the middle of the afternoon, just as I was sitting at my desk, scrolling through documents that didn't hold my attention. Work had become monotonous these days—like I was just going through the motions, trying to keep up appearances. I answered the phone without checking the number, expecting one of my contacts or maybe even Felix."Liam Sterling?" The voice on the other end was firm, professional."Yeah. Who's this?""This is Detective Crater from the Queens Police Department. We've never met, but I've been looking into your sister's case—Marie Sterling."The mention of her name hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. My hand tightened around the phone, knuckles turning white. "What are you talking about? That case has been closed for years.""I know. It's been nine years since th
MONIQUEI had control issues, and ballet school made me become a perfectionist. When I started getting bullied, our dance instructor from Italy—Costanza—had made a joke about my weight. She told me I was missing steps because I had fat arms and calves. The girls laughed and they used it to make fun of me every single day till I left that school.This made me a control freak. If things didn't go my way, I would want to tear things apart. But while I was in hiding, Don Antonio had a girlfriend, she was French and she was a lot younger than him and closer to my age. We bonded, in a way. She was a ballet instructor, too, and one of the few people who didn't make me feel inadequate. She showed me how to use my frustration and lack of control to fuel something productive, something that could center me.My years in hiding taught me more than patience and strategy. They tau
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