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Do It Yourself
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-04-14 01:31:09
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Sold To The Devil In Armani A Touching Reunion II
Elena's POV I never really cared about my mother, not in the way other people seemed to. I loved her, of course. I cried when she died — I was six, and the world felt too big and too empty without her soft voice reading bedtime stories or her hands braiding my hair. But after the tears dried, I didn't think about her much. She had died when I was far too young to understand the weight of it, and my father had stepped into the role so perfectly that I never felt the absence of a mother. He made sure I never felt like something was missing. That was why I never asked questions. I never wondered how she died, never demanded details, never even asked what her side of the family looked like or where they were. I simply accepted that she was gone and moved on with the life my father built around me. But now… everything had changed. Standing in Carlos's living room with my father's arms still around me and the bruise on my cheek throbbing like a reminder of last night, I realized I wante
Sold To The Devil In Armani A Touching Reunion I
Elena's POV I woke to an empty bed. The sheets beside me were cool, the indent where Carlos had lain already smoothed out. The faint scent of soap and his cologne still lingered in the air, sharp and clean, telling me he had been awake for a while. He must have slipped out quietly sometime before dawn, leaving me to sleep off the exhaustion and pain from the night before. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, testing my body. My cheek still throbbed, a dull, persistent ache, and when I gingerly touched the swollen skin, I winced. But overall, I felt… better. Stronger than I had any right to after what happened with Don Moretti. The terror had dulled into something manageable, the adrenaline crash replaced by a heavy, bone-deep tiredness that made even sitting up feel like effort. I pushed the covers back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The oversized black shirt Carlos had dressed me in last night hung loose on my frame, the hem brushing mid-thigh. It smelle
Sold To The Devil In Armani Homecoming
Carlos's POV The drive back to the estate was silent except for the low hum of the Maybach's engine and the occasional shaky breath from Elena beside me. I kept my eyes on the road, but every few seconds my gaze flicked to her swollen cheek, the darkening bruise blooming across her skin like a brand I had allowed to be placed there. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Rage directed entirely at myself, coiled tight in my chest. I should have been closer. I should have ended Moretti the second he put his hand on her. Instead, I had sent her in alone, dressed like temptation, wired like a weapon, and told myself it was necessary. Necessary. The word tasted like ash now. When we finally pulled through the estate gates, I didn't wait for the car to come to a full stop. I killed the engine, stepped out, and rounded the vehicle in seconds. Elena's door opened before she could reach for the handle. I unbuckled her seatbelt and lifted her into my arms without a word. She didn't
Sold To The Devil In Armani Do It Yourself
Raquel's POV I slammed the door to my private suite so hard the crystal chandelier above my bed rattled violently, sending tiny shards of light dancing across the walls like broken promises. The sound echoed through the empty room, followed by the sound of my heels flying off my legs. My fingers clenched into fists so tight my nails dug deep crescents into my palms. Blood welled up in tiny beads, but I barely felt the pain. All I could feel was rage, hot, vicious, all-consuming rage. Carlos. He had brought her to the gala. That nobody. That auction whore. Elena Bush. He had probably done that to spite me, to remind me just how obsessed I was with him. He had definitely gotten what he wanted because he'd reminded me quite well. The image wouldn't leave my mind no matter how hard I tried to shove it away. The way she had stood beside him in that gown, wearing his ring like she had any right to it, the thin gold chain around her throat glinting like a brand of ownership. She had loo
Sold To The Devil In Armani Who Is She?
Marco's POV I was in my study, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted like ash and lemons, when the phone rang. The call came at 2:17 a.m., exactly the hour when most men were either drunk or dead. I let it ring twice before answering, already knowing the voice on the other end would bring trouble. "Boss," my informant said, voice low and hurried. "Don Moretti is dead. Found in his hotel suite thirty minutes ago. Shot once in the leg, once through the hand, and once in the head. Execution style. Police are calling it a professional hit." I didn't speak right away. I simply swirled the whiskey in my glass and smiled into the dark room. Of course it was Carlos. The timing was too perfect. Moretti had been scheduled to meet Nico Vargas tomorrow night to finalize the new routes. Now the fat bastard was cooling on a hotel carpet, and my little brother had removed another pawn from the board. "Any witnesses?" I asked calmly. "Hotel security is being… cooperative. One maid saw a woma
Sold To The Devil In Armani The Task II
Elena's POV Panic surged through me like ice water in my veins. Was I really going to die here? And to a man like Don Moretti? No, I wasn't going to, and I definitely wasn't going to wait until Carlos to save me. I didn't think, I just acted. I hurled the glass of whiskey that was still clutched in my hand, whiskey and shards exploded across his cheek and nose. He flinched hard, eyes squeezing shut, gun dipping just enough. I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, knee driving upward into his groin with every ounce of rage I'd swallowed since the auction, since the moment my father handed me over like currency, since Carlos locked that chain around my throat, since Marco whispered freedom in my ear like poison. Moretti let out a choked grunt, doubling over. The gun clattered to the carpet between us. I dove for it. My fingers brushed the grip of cold metal, but his hand shot out faster than I expected. He smacked me across the face with the back of his fist, the blow landing like a
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