Delilah scoffed, her grip tightening on her fork.Ruby noticed, tilting her head. "What? Whatâs wrong?""Thatâs the woman who called me poor," Delilah muttered, nodding toward the couple. "And thatâs her fiancĂ©."Ruby followed Delilahâs gaze, her eyes narrowing. "They do look wealthy."Helen, who had been eating quietly, looked up and froze. Her face paled as her gaze locked onto the man."Thatâs Jonah," Helen said, her voice strained. "My husband. And thatâs probably his new mistress."Delilahâs jaw dropped. "Youâre joking. That woman wears designer clothes and talks about engagements."Helenâs bitter laugh escaped her. "Iâm not. Heâs the one I wanted to deal with when I pretended to be a client."Rubyâs lips curled into a smirk. "He looks like someone who deserves a beating. But he doesnât seem poor."Delilah noticed the flicker of pain in Helenâs expression, the subtle tightening of her jaw and the way her grip on the wine glass trembled slightly. She nudged Rubyâs leg under the ta
The steady hum of the jet's engine filled the luxurious cabin. Seated in the opulent, cream-leather chair, Marco Donato's fingers moved swiftly across the keys of his laptop. His eyesâdark greyâwere locked on the screen, his expression sharp and focused. In his mid-twenties, Marco's entire presence radiated dominance. His tall, muscular physique filled the seat with an effortless grace, his black hair styled just enough to maintain a hint of messiness, giving him a charming look. The dim lighting of the jetâs interior cast sharp shadows across his face, emphasizing the stern line of his lips.He typed out a quick message to his family, and just then, the door to the cabin opened softly. Gino, his trusted right-hand man, entered. A hulking figure with an athletic build, Gino always bow to Marco, though he carried the strength of a man not easily intimidated.Gino bowed his head slightly in respect. "Boss, is there anything you would like?"Marco didnât look up. "Just wine," he rep
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee still lingered on Delilahâs clothes as she entered her small apartment. As soon as she stepped inside, the scent of something delicious hit her nose. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of spices and herbs that made her stomach growl with hunger. After a long day at the cafĂ©, it was exactly what she needed.With a tired sigh, she dropped her bag lazily by the couch, her shoulders slumping in relief. She moved toward the kitchen, following the irresistible smell, already guessing who the culprit was.She rounded the corner into the kitchen, and found her aunt, Mary Flynn. Mary stood over the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like her famous chicken stew. Her auntâs graying hair, always tied back in a neat bun, gleamed under the kitchen lights. Despite her age, Aunt Mary had the energy of someone half her years and the warmest smile that could melt any stress away.Mary glanced up and smiled warmly when she saw Delilah. "I knew you wouldnâ
Later that night, Delilah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the memories of her parentsâ death resurfacedâflashes of their lifeless bodies, the sound of their voices silenced forever. She clenched her fists, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only grew louder in the silence of the night. Finally, she couldnât take it anymore. She slid out of bed, grabbed her handbag, and made her way quietly toward the door.Delilah knew she had to be careful. Her aunt, Mary, was usually a light sleeper, but tonight, Delilah hoped sheâd be resting deeply in her room.As she tiptoed through the hall, she paused when she saw the faint light coming from the living room. Heart racing, she peeked around the corner and saw Mary on the couch, snoring softly."Close call," she muttered to herself, quickly ducking into a nearby corner to stay out of sight.Delilah waited, holding her breath as Mary shifted slightly in her sleep. Once she was sur
Delilah wasted no time. She moved slowly, circling Marco as if she were stalking a prey. The music playing softly in the background set the rhythm, but it was her own confidence that controlled the dance. Her hips swayed, her body moved fluidly, each motion designed to captivate. She leaned in, letting her hands gently graze his shoulders before pulling back just enough to tease.Marco watched her every move, mesmerized by the confidence in her technique. She was unlike any dancer he had encountered beforeâthere was no hesitation, no doubt. She knew exactly what she was doing. Delilah didnât need to rush. She took her time, letting the anticipation build, as her fingers traced along his chest and then drifted away, always keeping a careful distance.Her lap dance was flawless, a combination of smooth, sensual movements and calculated control. She bent forward, her chest grazing his face as her hands trailed down his arms, then smoothly straddled his lap without missing a beat.He
The next few days were a blur of excitement for Marco. With some rare free time on his hands, he indulged himself, hopping from one bar to the next, surrounded by beautiful women and taking his pick of whoever he desired. It was the kind of life he enjoyedâfree from responsibility, with no strings attached.But the fun didnât last long. A message from his Nonno arrived, summoning him to the Donato mansion immediately.With little choice, Marco climbed into the back of his car, and Gino drove him toward the estate.Sleek black cars flanked them, one at the front and one at the back, escorting them through the winding roads leading to his grandfatherâs expensive property. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft glow over the mansionâs grand facade as they pulled up to the entrance.The cars came to a halt, and Gino exited first, opening the door for Marco. Without a word, Marco stepped out, straightening his jacket as he approached the mansion. A maid stood by the door, her posture
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Donato estate. Then, a yellow cab pulled up to the expensive mansion. Delilah, seated in the back, gazed out of the window, her eyes widening in surprise at the grandeur of the property. It was the first time she had ever seen a mansion so intimidating, so luxurious. Her aunt, Mary, sitting beside her, noticed the look on Delilah's face and smiled warmly. "Itâs quite a place, isnât it?" she said, her voice gentle but encouraging. "Your grandfatherâs best friend, Elder Donato lives here."Delilah nodded, not saying a word as they stepped out of the car and were escorted inside. The mansion was just as magnificent on the inside, with tall ceilings and marble floors gleaming under the soft lighting. They were led through the grand halls, their footsteps echoing, until they reached the dining hall where the Donato familyâs patriarch, the old man who was her grandfatherâs best friend, sat waiting.When they entered the roo
Marco led Delilah to a spacious room with rich, dark wooden floors and tall windows that bathed the space in a soft evening glow. On one side of the room, a grand library stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books that looked untouched. The room smelled of leather and old paper, adding to the quiet intimacy of the setting.Once they reached the center of the room, Marco turned toward her, a faint smirk playing on his lips. In his mind, he recalled their last encounter. He had told her they would see each other again, and now here they were. The thought made him feel a spark of excitement, one he couldnât quite suppress, despite his cool demeanor. Even though he had ordered Gino to dig up information on her, Gino had come back empty-handed. No matter. Heâd discovered her secret himself."So," Marco began, almost mockingly, "the Holy bride works in a club, huh? As a pole dancer. And quite the experienced lap dancer too."Delilah stiffened but refused to show any reaction.
Delilah scoffed, her grip tightening on her fork.Ruby noticed, tilting her head. "What? Whatâs wrong?""Thatâs the woman who called me poor," Delilah muttered, nodding toward the couple. "And thatâs her fiancĂ©."Ruby followed Delilahâs gaze, her eyes narrowing. "They do look wealthy."Helen, who had been eating quietly, looked up and froze. Her face paled as her gaze locked onto the man."Thatâs Jonah," Helen said, her voice strained. "My husband. And thatâs probably his new mistress."Delilahâs jaw dropped. "Youâre joking. That woman wears designer clothes and talks about engagements."Helenâs bitter laugh escaped her. "Iâm not. Heâs the one I wanted to deal with when I pretended to be a client."Rubyâs lips curled into a smirk. "He looks like someone who deserves a beating. But he doesnât seem poor."Delilah noticed the flicker of pain in Helenâs expression, the subtle tightening of her jaw and the way her grip on the wine glass trembled slightly. She nudged Rubyâs leg under the ta
Delilah gripped the steering wheel, her fingers tapping against it as Marco's car glided through the morning traffic. The soft hum of the engine and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the vehicle reminded her of the previous nightâa memory that sent a quiet thrill through her.The buzz of her phone broke through her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen, a quick peek before returning her eyes to the road. Ruby. A smile tugged at her lips as she picked up the call, pressing the speaker button."Good morning," Rubyâs voice came, light but carrying a playful undertone.Delilah chuckled softly, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. "Good morning to you too, Ruby. Iâm already on my way to the cafĂ©. Iâll be there in a few minutes."A pause followed, and then Ruby asked, "CafĂ©? Have you forgotten what day it is?""What day?" Delilah frowned, confusion clouding her tone as she signaled to stop at a red light.Checking her phone, she saw the date glaring back at her. July 7.
Delilah tied the sash of her robe and glanced at the early morning sunlight spilling through the curtains. The soft rustle of sheets behind her told her Marco was still sound asleep. She cast a quick look at the bed, his bare chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. A small smile tugged at her lips as she slipped out of the bedroom.She had freshened up quickly and was now padding down the hall toward the library. The faint scent of him clung to her skin, mingling with the memories of last night. A flush crept up her neck as she opened the library door.Stepping inside, she was immediately struck by the disarray. Marco's white shirt was draped over the back of a chair, her nightgown tangled on the floor, along with his trousers and belt. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she began gathering the scattered clothing. Her lingerie was caught under the edge of the desk, and she crouched down to grab it."What else am I missing?" she muttered to herself, her eyes scanning the room.As
Marco obeyed without hesitation, his body moving as though under her spell. He reclined on the desk, the smooth wood cool against his heated skin. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his dark eyes locked onto her every move. Delilah climbed up beside him, her bare knees pressing against the desk as she straddled his waist. The raw vulnerability in his expression sent a thrill through herâhe was completely hers, body and soul. She ran her hands along his chest, marveling at the taut muscles beneath her fingertips. "Youâre so beautiful, Marco," she murmured, her voice filled with an affection that softened the tension between them. He reached for her, his hands settling on her hips, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. "Not yet," she whispered, leaning down to brush her lips against his in a feather-light kiss. The restraint in his touch, the way his fingers flexed against her thighs as if to keep from pulling her closer, sent a rush of power through her veins
Delilahâs heart raced as Marcoâs words hung in the air, his voice thick with desperation. His gaze bore into hers, hot and unrelenting, daring her to take the next step. She could feel the weight of his request pressing against her resolve, urging her to give in to the temptation that had been building all night. But she wasnât ready to let go of this control just yet. "Tell me again," she demanded softly, her fingers still wrapped tightly around his aching length. "Tell me what you want, Marco." His chest heaved with each breath, his hands gripping the edges of the desk for balance. "I want you, Delilah," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to see you naked, I want to feel every inch of you. Show me how much you want this." Her lips curved into a slow, secretive smile. "Good boy," she murmured, her tone laced with a teasing edge. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his cock twitched in her hand, desperate for release. But she wasnât done playing yet. With d
The weight of Delilah's body shifted unsteadily, and she instinctively grabbed Marcoâs shoulders for balance, her fingers digging into the fabric of his crisp white shirt. His lips were relentless against hers, his tongue pressing insistently into her mouth as if demanding a response. He couldnât stop himself. The way she fit against him, her warmth, her scentâit drove him past reason. She moaned softly, her head tilting back to grant him better access, but her mind was racing. This wasnât how it usually went. Typically, Marco took charge, always so confident in bed, while she melted into his touch, following his lead. But tonight⊠tonight something had ignited within her, a flicker of boldness that refused to be extinguished. "MarcoâŠ" she murmured against his lips, her voice trembling with both nerves and desire. "I want⊠I want to try something." He paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers, curiosity mingling with heat. What was she thinking? She looked nervous, but there w
Marco raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze cutting through Delilah like a sharp blade. Delilahâs mind raced as she replayed her gory remark. A wave of dread washed over her, and she quickly forced a smile, hoping to lighten the moment. "I was just joking," she said, her tone overly bright. Marcoâs brow didnât relax, his expression unreadable yet commanding. Delilah felt the walls closing in on her. Without waiting for a response, she gestured toward the door. "Iâll, uh, leave you two to it," she muttered, her words rushed. Turning on her heel, she quickly exited the library, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. The room now belonged to Marco and Gino. Gino wasted no time, pulling a stack of documents toward him. He sat at a small table on the far side of the library, diligently error-checking the papers. Marco, meanwhile, settled into his chair, unwrapping the food Delilah had brought and eating with calculated leisure. As Gino worked, a stray thought struck him like
Ginoâs throat felt like it had closed up, his knees weak as he stammered, "IâI would never hide anything from you, boss. Never! Iâve never hidden anything from you before." Marco tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but undeniably menacing. "Are you certain?" Gino nodded furiously, his heart pounding. Marco leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "And what if I find out that youâve been hiding something? Or that youâre hiding something even now?" Gino gulped hard, his hands clammy as he tried to avoid the sheer force of Marcoâs gaze. "What should I do then, Gino?" Marco asked casually, the words a stark contrast to the danger emanating from him. "Cut off your legs? Or your hands?" Gino froze. His mind raced as he tried to figure out the safest answerâor if there even was one. If he chose neither, Marco might grow suspicious. But what if he chose and Marco actually followed through? Marco was a man of his word, and Gino knew that. His eyes darted across the desk, ho
The memory faded as Delilah blinked, her vision adjusting to the light of the bedroom. Her eyelashes were still damp, her cheeks streaked with traces of her earlier tears. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to push back the emotions threatening to surface. Her hand moved to her cheeks, wiping away any remaining evidence before the door creaked open. Marco stepped inside silently, dressed in a crisp white shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His short, black hair was stylishly messy, as if he had just run his fingers through it. He carried a lap tray filled with food, his expression a mix of focus and excitement. As he quietly shut the door behind him, his gaze finally landed on her. "Youâre awake," he said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Delilah quickly sat up, pulling the oversized shirt closer to her body. "Yeah... Whatâs with the tray?" she asked, her voice casual despite the blush heating her cheeks. Marco approached her, his lips curving into a soft smile.