LOGIN“He looked at Chloe and saw nothing. She is the perfect camouflage. She is safe because she is... undesirable.” Lorenzo Moretti, the King of Sicily's underworld, trusts no one. A deep, unresolved betrayal has poisoned his heart, leaving him obsessed with control and viewing women as a liability. He met Chloe Rossi: a clumsy, unfiltered cook drowning in debt. She stumbles into his life and is hired for her invisibility. She is too messy, too chaotic, and too chubby to attract the attention of assassins or rivals. But Chloe is an accident in motion. Her nervous, unfiltered honesty cuts through Lorenzo's defenses. When a moment of rage forces him to lock them both in his office, she becomes a witness to his deepest weakness. He told her she was undesirable. He hired her for utility. Now, trapped and holding his most dangerous secret, she watches the King’s paranoia turn into an obsession he can’t fight. She is the only one who sees the broken man beneath the monster.
View MoreThe plate sat empty.She scraped the ceramic with the fork. She chased the last grain of rice. She wiped the sauce with her finger and put it in her mouth.I watched her throat work. I watched her swallow.I took the tray from the desk. I moved it to the side table near the door. The china clattered. The sound echoed in the quiet room. It sounded like a gunshot in a canyon."It is late," I said.Chloe looked at the heavy velvet curtains. Darkness pressed against the glass. The reflection showed a distorted version of the room. It showed a monster and his prisoner.She looked at the door. It remained locked. The brass bolt shone in the dim light. It mocked her."Am I leaving?" she asked. Her voice was a rasp."No."I walked to my desk. I sat in my leather chair. The leather creaked under my weight. I picked up a file. I did not open it. I used it as a shield."You stay," I said. "You remain under ob
The silk hung in tatters. I looked at her chest. I looked at her stomach. I saw pale skin. I saw a cheap white bra. I saw terror. I did not see wires. I did not see tape. I did not see a microphone. She was clean. She sobbed. The sound filled the room. She tried to pull the torn fabric together. Her hands shook. Tears ran down her face. I lowered the gun. I engaged the safety. The click sounded loud. "You are clean," I said. I did not apologize. Kings do not apologize. I made a calculation. I acted on a threat. The threat did not exist. I holstered the weapon. I took off my suit jacket. I threw it at her. It landed on her head. It covered the exposed skin. It covered the ruin of the red dress. "Cover yourself," I commanded. "You look pathetic." She pulled the jacket around her shoulders. She buttoned it. It swallowed her. She looked small inside my clothes. She pulled her knees to her chest. She hid against the leg of the desk. I walked to the window. I stared at the darkn
The lock clicked shut. The sound echoed in the large room. It marked a boundary. Outside the heavy wood door lay my empire. My soldiers waited there. My enemies waited there. Inside this room stood only two people. Me. Her. I did not turn around immediately. I stared at the grain of the wood. My heart hammered against my ribs. I hated the rhythm. It betrayed me. It proved my control had slipped. Chloe breathed fast behind me. The sound grated on my nerves. It sounded loud in the silence. It sounded like a trapped animal. I classified the noise. Panic. Desperation. Fear. "You saw the note." My voice came out low. I did not yell. Yelling showed weakness. "I saw nothing." Her voice shook. "I cleaned the room. I broke the vase. I will pay for the damage." "Do not lie to me." I turned. I faced her. She gripped the mahogany desk. Her knuckles looked white. She looked out of place among my leather books and steel weapons. A smudge of white flour sat on her cheek. It mocked
[Lorenzo]The package sat on my desk. It was small. Wrapped in brown paper. No return address.I knew who sent it.I cut the tape. I opened the box.Inside lay a single sheet of paper. It was a photocopy.Page 42. The Black Ledger.It listed the bribes my father paid to the judges in 1998. It was evidence. Enough to bury my family.A note was attached. The handwriting was elegant. It was hers. Vanessa."Happy Anniversary, darling. Marco sends his love."I stared at the date on the calendar. December 16.Five years ago today. The wedding. The wine. The betrayal.My blood turned to fire. The rage was a living thing. It clawed at my chest."They are laughing," I whispered.I imagined them. Marco in his silk robe. Vanessa in my bed. They were drinking my wine. They were spending my money.I grabbed the whiskey bottle. It was half full.I threw it.It flew across the room. It hit the fireplace.CRASH.Glass exploded. Amber liquid sprayed the stones. The smell of alcohol filled the room.It
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