Tempted by the Mafia Lord

NATASHA “Have you gone mad?” I asked, staring at Luca in disbelief. He glanced around him, then back at me. “I assure you, I am perfectly sane.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No you're not. If you were, you would not ask me to do the impossible.” “Oh please,” He sniffed haughtily. “You infiltrated the navy and killed off three commanders. Nothing is impossible for you.” “It was two commanders and a colonel!” I defended, my brows furrowed. “And they are nothing compared to Hell, and you know it! No one even knows who he is!” Luca nodded, pursing his lips. “True. And that is precisely why I'd like to hire you.” Hire me? Oh yeah, he had definitely lost his mind. “This isn't hiring. You threatened me into working for you!” The Italian brute shrugged and straightened. “Hiring, threatening, same shit, Vera. Look, I traveled down from Italy to find you. If anyone can uncover Hell's true identity and get rid of him while at it, it's you.” “I don't want to,” I told him, shaki

NATASHA “That bastard!” I yelled to no one in particular as I walked down the road that led to my home. Oh, I was infuriated. I was mad. I was so angry, and yet, I was incredibly turned on. I was a mess! I hated how pompously he acted, assuming that I enjoyed his touch. I hated even more that I really had enjoyed the touch. My head tingled as I recalled the way he had grabbed my hair. It had felt thrilling, I could swear I felt myself grow slick with desire. I couldn't help it, really. One minute I was furious with him, the next minute, I found myself wishing he would rip my top apart and just touch me where I needed him. My nipples begged desperately for his attention. For his hands. “Stop thinking about him!” I snapped at myself, quickening my steps home. I had to see Alisa. But before I did, I needed to take a bath and change into something presentable. My sister would lose her marbles if I stepped into her giant house wearing tattered jeans. I stepped into the house, took

NATASHA"Bastard," I grumbled, tossing the phone on my ratty mattress and trying to fish out whatever clothes were manageable from the tiny heap of clothes I had. It wasn't that I couldn't afford more clothes, or better ones. Alisa had worried for two years, asking me why I didn't move somewhere more comfortable, or get better clothes or at least refurbish the ratty apartment I lived in. I told her I didn't mind it and I wasn't lying. I really didn't. In the mafia, I was trained to live on less. For two whole years, I wore the same pair of clothes. Black jeans, torn and ragged with age and a black top. I performed all my assignments in them. No matter how much I washed them, I could always smell the heavy stench of blood.It lived around me, surrounded me like a halo. A constant reminder of who I was and the work I had done. The work I did. The work I was about to do. I fished out a pair of faded jeans that looked the most presentable and sh

LORENZO“Report,” I ordered, sitting on a sofa in the hotel room we'd gotten, and pouring myself a glass of brandy. “We found him,” Martino said, rubbing a cigarette between his fingers. He hadn't set fire to it yet because I had a strict no smoking around me rule. I didn't like the stench, and I definitely did not want to die due to lung cancer or some shit. I had bigger goals to attain. Like setting up a retail in New York before I hurled my ass back to Italy. The problem was finding a fucking retailer. Everyone seemed to shy out of doing business with the Italians. Probably because they knew they would get a bullet in the balls if they made one stupid move. I chuckled at the thought and took a sip out of my glass. The alcohol burned down my throat, slow and hot, and I closed my eyes at the feel. “Did you set up a meeting with him?” I asked and watched Martino nod curtly. Good. That was perfect. Setting up a company in the United St

NATASHAI take my words back. I take them back big time. This was hell. I didn't think this through at all. Olivia was crazy. She's fucking crazy. I coughed as she dumped my head into the water, sputtering as water rushed through my gut and spleen, driving me crazy. This was it. I was going to die. I had spent three days in Lucas mansion and suffice to say, I was certain he wanted to take my life instead. That had to be the goal of it all. There was nothing else. Why on earth was I being subjected to Torture? It started a day ago. After the sparring with Olivia, I had won by the way, my body was sore as hell, next thing I knew, I was thrown into a tank and drenched with water. Yesterday was hell. I could still hear my screams. I could still feel myself choking as I struggled to stay afloat in the water. If Luca hadn't ordered for them to stop, if he had waited a minute too soon, I probably would have passed out. That was yesterday.