Trapped Between The Billionaire Playboy & The Mafia Don

(AURIANNA'S POV)Giovanni's mouth crashes against mine as we stumble into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us. I can taste the expensive wine on his tongue as our lips smack against each other's.We stumble clumsily, our hands roaming each other's bodies until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. We fall together and he lands on top of me, pinning me to the silk duvet.My fingers are in his hair, pulling, needing him closer even though there wasn't a single millimeter of space left between us. His hands are everywhere, rough and possessive, skating up my sides, groping my tits through my dress until my nipples harden."This fucking dress," he growls against my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin. "I've been imagining tearing it off you all night.""Then do it," I pant, arching my back to give him better access. "Fucking rip it, Giovanni."He didn't need to be told twice.He pulls on my dress and the sound of tearing fabric fills the room. Cool air hits my skin,

(ZAYNE'S POV)Life's good when you're me. No scratch that, life's fucking great.I'm kicked back on the red leather couch of LUXE, the most exclusive nightclub in L.A. The bass is thumping through the walls, women are laughing, glasses are clinking, and the lights are dim enough to make everyone look ten times hotter than they really are.One of those women-brunette, legs for days-is sitting so close I can smell her perfume. She's got her hand on my chest, tracing lazy circles like she's trying to hypnotize me. The other one, a blonde in a red dress, is feeding me sips of my own wine like I'm some kind of goddamn king, which technically, I am.I don't even stop her. Why would I?"Mm," I hum, licking the last drop off my lips. "You girls are spoiling me.""That's the idea," the brunette says, giggling.I grin, leaning back.Yeah, Zayne Beaumont, you lucky bastard.The blonde reaches for the bottle, tips it, and frowns when not a single drop comes out. "We're out," she pouts, batting he

(AURIANNA'S POV)The doors to O.A.S.I.S Headquarters slide open, and I step inside, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The smell of coffee and antiseptic hits me first, but it's comforting in a weird way. The sound of ringing telephones and beeping monitors filled the hallways. As I walk by, agents and staff nod, some calling out a quick "Morning, Agent Siren," and I smile or wave back. Small courtesies, nothing more.Then I hear a loud, familiar voice call out my name."Anna!"I turn to see Chelsea striding toward me, that bright grin on her face like she just won the lottery, and her arms are wide open.We collide and embrace each other in a tight hug."Missed you," I say, pulling back just enough to look at her properly."Missed me? You've been gone longer, girl," she teases.I step back slightly, laughing.Chelsea Parker, codename Mirage, is my closest friend and my ride-or-die at O.A.S.I.S. We've run dozens of missions together, from hostage extractions, operatives try

(AURIANNA'S POV)I hate packing.Not because it's hard-hell, I can disassemble and reassemble a sniper rifle in less than two minutes-but because it's always the same story. The sound of zippers, the neat folding of clothes, the quiet that fills the room like a thick fog. It's the calm before whatever storm O.A.S.I.S. is about to throw me into.I grab another shirt from the closet, fold it, and toss it into the box on my bed. My suitcase is half-full already. It's muscle memory at this point: mission briefing, pack light, kiss normalcy goodbye.Just as I'm reaching for another stack of shirts, there's a knock on my door."Come in," I call without looking up.The door creaks open, and I hear that familiar voice-soft, worried, and always too gentle for this world."Anna, you're packing? But you just came home."I turn around, and there she is.Mom, standing in the doorway in her robe, her brown hair pulled into a messy bun. She looks like she hasn't slept much, which, knowing her, she p

(AURIANNA'S POV)For a second, I genuinely think I misheard.The little girl's tiny arms are wrapped around me like I'm her favorite person in the world, and I'm just... standing there, frozen, staring down at this bundle of dark hair and green eyes who just called me mommy.Mommy.What the actual hell.I blink once, twice, maybe three times. My brain's buffering. Then I look up, straight at Zayne. He looks just as surprised too. Even the nanny standing at the bottom of the stairs looks like she just walked in on a live soap opera."Did she just-" I start, still processing.Zayne steps forward so fast you'd think I was holding a grenade instead of a child. He gently pulls the girl off me and says, "Brielle, honey, you can't just go around calling random strangers your mom.""But she looks like Mommy," the girl protests, her little face scrunching up in confusion.Zayne sighs, his voice softening. "That doesn't make her your mother, Bree."The kid pouts, her eyes glistening like she's