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Twenty
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2025-05-27 17:00:00I turn slowly, not taking my eyes off her as I step closer. I can see the fear in her eyes, and honestly, a part of me is happy. She took my life, my husband. I have no mercy for her or her people.
“It must be a daughter,” I say in a slow and deliberate voice.
She flinches, and I know I hit the nail on the head. Who would have thought someone as heartless as her would have someone she cared for? I mean, she’s an assassin, for chrissake. Didn’t she think for a moment that having a child would be a huge disadvantage in the lifestyle she lives? Because, one way or another, someone was going to find them and use that child as leverage. I see the way her hands clench into fists, the way her eyes dart away like she’s already imagining the worst.
“This… this is bigger than you think,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You only know the surface.”
I scoff. “And you’re the one drowning in it.&rd
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The Don's Forbidden Muse Twenty Three
Alessandro’s breath is uneven, his lips parted as he watches me. I should say something—anything—but my thoughts are tangled, and my feelings are all over the place.I know one thing for sure: he shouldn’t have stopped.I don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s both of us. One second, we’re just staring at each other, and the next, our lips crash together again.This time, it’s worse.Worse because it’s not just desperation—it’s knowing. Knowing what this is, knowing what it means, knowing we shouldn’t. But I don’t stop. I don’t care. I need this. I need something to make me forget. Maybe I can deal with the consequences later.And when our lips move in sync, when my heart calms at how his hand wraps around my waist, I hate it.I hate how good it feels.I hate how familiar it is.I hate that for a moment—just one brief, stolen moment—
The Don's Forbidden Muse Twenty Two
I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles ache, but it’s the only thing grounding me as I pull into the driveway. I don’t know how I managed to drive here safely, but I barely know how I manage to do anything at all. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot, my mind still stuck on the sight of that little girl. Luca’s daughter. His daughter. Almost six years old. He had a child this entire time, and I never knew.I feel stupid.The betrayal sits heavy on my chest, pressing against my ribs like it wants to break me apart from the inside out.Could that be the reason why Aria shot him? Because she felt betrayed that he was marrying me?I know she was working for someone—that part is clear. Someone sent her to kill him. But what if she could do it so easily despite knowing he was the father of her child because she felt betrayed? Because she wanted to get rid of him before he committed to me?I slowly walk
The Don's Forbidden Muse Twenty One
"She’s gone.” Mateo’s words echo, and I feel like I can’t breathe.My mind is spinning, my vision starting to blur as I stagger back. I feel like I’m being suffocated by the room.This can’t be happening.Aria is dead. Dead. The blood pooling beneath her limp body and her messily sliced wrist is the reality I am struggling to come to terms with. She did this to herself. When she asked me to loosen the ropes, she needed a way to bite her wrists.She chose this over talking.Why?What the hell was she so afraid of? What kind of monster would make a woman like Aria—an assassin, a killer—take her own life instead of revealing their name?Watching her blood brings back dark memories, and I know I can’t be here anymore. I quickly run outside, stumbling on my way as I gasp for air. My hands shake uncontrollably as I try to understand what the hell just happened. I press them against my te
The Don's Forbidden Muse Twenty
I turn slowly, not taking my eyes off her as I step closer. I can see the fear in her eyes, and honestly, a part of me is happy. She took my life, my husband. I have no mercy for her or her people.“It must be a daughter,” I say in a slow and deliberate voice.She flinches, and I know I hit the nail on the head. Who would have thought someone as heartless as her would have someone she cared for? I mean, she’s an assassin, for chrissake. Didn’t she think for a moment that having a child would be a huge disadvantage in the lifestyle she lives? Because, one way or another, someone was going to find them and use that child as leverage. I see the way her hands clench into fists, the way her eyes dart away like she’s already imagining the worst.“This… this is bigger than you think,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You only know the surface.”I scoff. “And you’re the one drowning in it.&rd
The Don's Forbidden Muse Nineteen
The moment I step out of the car, a chill skates down my spine.It’s not that cold.Ever since I got that call from Alessandro telling me he had Aria, I knew I wanted to come. Look her in the eye and ask her why she did it. But the thing is—I’m scared. And I think that’s why I’m feeling this way. I have questions, lots of questions, and I’m hoping I’ll get the answers tonight. My fingers twitch at my sides as I glance at the old warehouse Alessandro told me to come to. It looks like a forgotten place—the kind where secrets are buried and never unearthed.A flicker of movement in the shadows makes me tense, my pulse quickening. Then he steps into the light.Mateo.I sigh in relief and force a smile.I haven’t seen him in years, but there’s no mistaking the man in front of me. He looks different—older. But don’t we all? His eyes sweep over me, unreadable at first, then soften just slightly as he steps closer.“Renée.” He doesn’t seem surprised to see me. Rather, he looks… happy. It’s li
The Don's Forbidden Muse Eighteen
My hands shake as I press the cotton to Claudia’s wound. The sight of blood—whether small or big—always sends a chill down my spine. The cut on her throat isn’t deep, but it’s enough to shake me. Enough to remind me of another night, another wound, another moment when blood and love tangled into something I didn’t understand at the time. And given that this scar has been caused by the same person, I am scared.Luca.The memory crashes into me, pulling me back to that night.I run my fingers over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the scars he never wants to talk about. Luca has scars—a few of them. The one on his face, he freely told me about. A fight. Then there’s the one from when Alessandro shot him. But the one he never talks about is this one, just below his ribs. I press my lips to it and look up at him as he leans against the headboard.“What happened here?” I ask.He tenses, his fingers stilling against my skin. For a moment, I think he’ll brush it off, tell me some half-truth
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