LOGINMy mafia husband, Vincent Santoro, was born a monster, incapable of loving anyone. But one day, I discovered he was hiding a ‘forbidden fruit’. A girl from the slums, Claire Murphy. Scarred by life, yet as beautiful as a wildflower growing through concrete. For a man who'd waded through blood his whole life, she was a fatal attraction he never saw coming. He thought he'd covered his tracks. He was wrong. At the Santoro family's annual dinner, I confronted him about Claire, tears streaking down my face. He just lightly frowned, then had his consigliere slide the divorce papers across the table to me. "Isabella. Sign it. The three North Side docks and the shipping lines are yours." I tore the papers to shreds. He just kept raising the offer. He had me thrown into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. He blew up my family's distillery—the Romano family's legacy. Finally, he took my parents. Tied them in an abandoned warehouse and made one watch as he set the other on fire. "Sign, or watch them burn. Your choice." I begged him on my knees, but a roar of flames consumed the world— The heat seared my skin, the ash of my parents clinging to my face. "No... NO!" When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back on the day I first learned about Claire. This time, no tears, no drama. That night, I called my family in Sicily and set my escape in motion. But the moment I vanished from his world… Vincent Santoro went insane.
View MoreIsabella's POV"Isabella?!"Vincent appeared in the exotic banquet hall in Marrakech, with an unfamiliar woman on his arm.The moment he saw me, his pupils constricted.A choked, guttural sound escaped him. "You're alive?!"Vincent instinctively moved to grab me.A hard, cold ebony cane whipped out and struck his outstretched wrist.A figure moved to my side. Damien. One hand came to rest proprietorially on the small of my back.He was wearing a dark, embroidered suit that matched mine, his face still holding its sickly pallor.But his eyes were imperious, and he radiated a cold aura that warned everyone to stay away."Vincent Santoro," Damien's voice was low but cut through the noise. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself. She's with me now."Claire bit her lip and timidly tugged on Vincent's arm, writing in his palm: "Vincent, don't... We were wrong to her... I'm so sorry..."She bowed slightly, her pregnant belly prominent.I caught the flicker of annoyance in Vincent's eyes, and h
Isabella's POVNevada. The Black Rock Desert.Almost half a year had passed since my "death."I had fallen in love with underground desert racing.It was as if only the roar of an engine and the sting of hot sand could wash away the blood and ice left in my bones.The death certificate was fake, of course.Ten million dollars. That's what it cost to buy off the soldier, the family doctor, and a hospital record so perfect it could fool anyone.My parents were already rebuilding the family business in Sicily.Today was the last illegal race before "Burning Man."I was behind the wheel of a modified Ford Raptor, battling a beat-up old JEEP that looked like it was about to fall apart.The guy driving the JEEP was a lunatic, drifting recklessly through the rocky terrain as if he had a death wish.Suddenly, a yellow wall rose on the horizon.A sandstorm. An unprecedented haboob was swallowing everything.I instinctively slowed down, but the JEEP accelerated, a blatant challenge to the grim r
Vincent's POVVincent found the fat man at his birthday party in a luxury hotel.He kicked the private room door open, ignored the crowd of guests, and grabbed the man by the throat, slamming him against the wall."Where is Isabella?" His voice was a low growl, promising pain. "Make him talk," he growled, his eyes bloodshot. The order was quiet, but it promised agony.The Romanos had liquidated their American assets and vanished. Fled back to Sicily like rats.He couldn't find Isabella.This man, the last one to have contact with her, was his only lead."Vincent! Are you fucking crazy?!" The fat man's face was bruised and swollen, his pride shattered in front of his associates.He was done playing nice. "You were the one who said 'you may'! You let us pour the booze on her! What's with the act now?! Didn't you say it was just a rash? Ha! You almost killed her, and you didn't even know it!"The man's screams were like poisoned daggers stabbing into Vincent's nerves.He froze, the wor
Vincent's POVAt the hospital, Vincent had summoned the best medical team in Chicago.All for a goddamn scrape on Claire's elbow."Does it still hurt? Don't worry, I've already made those scumbags pay. I promise, this will never happen again."Claire's eyes were red, but she stubbornly ignored him.Only after the doctors confirmed the redness was completely gone did Vincent dismiss them.Alone in the VIP room, Vincent knelt before her."I'm sorry, Claire. It's my fault. I wasn't there to protect you. I'll have the maids prepare a room. We'll live together, starting today. Okay?"At the words "live together," Claire finally looked at him.Her gaze was clear but tinged with a frustrated helplessness that snagged on his heart like a thorn.That look seized him.This strange, new feeling was more addictive than the slice of a blade against skin.After calming Claire, Vincent called the estate's butler, his tone back to its usual ice."Get Isabella and all of her things out of the main hous
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