LOGIN~LUCAS~I barely sleep.Actually, calling what I did last night “sleep” would be generous.I spend most of the night lying on my back, staring at the ceiling while Fiorella's words replay over and over again inside my head.‘Goodbye, Lucas.’I don't know why those two words bother me so much.Maybe it's because of the way she said them.There was something final about them. Something that made a cold feeling settle somewhere deep inside my chest.Every time I close my eyes, I see her sitting on the edge of that bed with her phone in her hand.I see the way her expression changed.I hear the slight crack in her voice when she told me she couldn't afford another trip with me.And most of all, I remember the way she stopped herself when she almost said something about a Mafia lord.There is a secret buried inside all of this….I'm sure of it.But no matter how many times I turn it over in my head, I can't figure out what it is.Eventually, I give up trying to sleep
~LUCAS~I stare at her.For several seconds, neither of us says anything.The room is silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sound of my own breathing.Fiorella is sitting on the edge of the bed, her phone clenched tightly in her hand.She looks furious. But underneath the anger, there is something else….. real fear.I've seen Fiorella angry.I've seen her frustrated, irritated, arrogant, stubborn, sarcastic, and completely impossible.But I've never seen her look like this.Her eyes are fixed on the screen, and there's a strange tension in her face that makes me sit up straighter.“Why don't you want to go to Italy?” I ask her, but she doesn't answer.“Fiorella?” I try again.She simply shakes her head.“I'm never going to Italy, Lucas,” she says with a firm and final voice.“Fiorella.....”She sighs heavily and throws her phone onto the mattress beside her.“I said I'm not going. Leave me the fuck alone, Lucas.”“That doesn't answer my question. Why are you no
~LUCAS~Her words don't just hurt, they tear straight through me.‘I never loved you, Lucas.’I stare at Fiorella, and for several seconds, I honestly forget how to breathe.I want to tell myself she's angry.I want to tell myself she's only saying those things because she's hurt.But knowing that doesn't make hearing them any easier. Especially when I know her.I know Fiorella.Maybe not every part of her, but enough.Enough to know that Fiorella Vincenzo is not the kind of woman who gives just anybody access to her personal space.She doesn't let people get close. She doesn't trust easily.She doesn't surrender control easily.And she certainly doesn't let a man into her bed, into her private world, into the vulnerable parts of herself, unless she feels something for him.I've seen the way she fights to maintain control over everything around her.I've seen how quickly she builds walls whenever she feels exposed.So when she tells me she never loved me...I know she's lying.Not becau
~FIORELLA~“Is it Fiorella… or Marcella?”The question hangs between us. And I don't know why I ask it again.Maybe because some foolish, desperate part of me is still hoping that hearing my name from his lips will make everything okay.Maybe I'm waiting for him to look at me and say it without hesitation.‘You.’Just one word……one damn word.And I'd probably forgive him for everything.I'd probably let him pull me back into his arms.I'd probably convince myself that what happened tonight was nothing more than a mistake.A terrible, humiliating mistake.But Lucas doesn't say anything. He just stares at me, and that silence destroys the tiny piece of hope I was desperately clinging to.My chest tightens, and my throat burns.I stare at him, waiting, counting the seconds as I wait.He still doesn't answer, and something inside me cracks…. a quiet, devastating crack somewhere deep inside my chest.And suddenly, I understand.He can't choose me, and it's not becau
~LUCAS~I don't know when it happens.One moment, I'm completely lost in Fiorella, in her warmth, in the sound of her breathing, in the way she looks at me with those eyes that make it almost impossible for me to remember that there is a world outside this room.And then, Marcella's face flashes through my mind.I blink hard.No….Why the hell am I thinking about her right now?I look down at Fiorella.It's Fiorella…..not Marcella.I know that. My mind knows that. My heart should know that too.Yet another image of Marcella comes rushing into my thoughts.Her smile, her eyes, the way she looked at me when I was buried deep inside her pussy.I close my eyes briefly, trying to push the memory away.It doesn't work. If anything, it makes it worse.Why? Why is she suddenly in my head?I focus on Fiorella again, but her striking resemblance to Marcella doesn't make things easier for me.Because seeing Fiorella's face feels like I'm looking directly at Marcella.The sa
~FIORELLA~I squeal as Lucas rolls us as one, his bodyweight pinning me to the bed.Looking up at him, I search for his beloved features. And my fingers go up to touch his thick, sexy hair.I look into his beautiful eyes fringed with long black lashes any girl would kill for. He's so handsome.Dropping my gaze, I concentrate on his full, very kissable lips.From experience, I know how soft they are and how they easily curve into a smile. When he grins broadly, a dimple appears in his right cheek.Forget handsome….. My man is freaking gorgeous.As he gazes down at me, I feel bathed in his love.“I wish we weren't on a trip with limited clothes. I would have loved to dress you up as a naughty school girl, and then bend you over the table, and whip your ass hard,” Lucas says.“Lucas!” I gasp in surprise. “What a wild and naughty imagination you've got!”He chuckles hard.“Don't be too surprised at my naughty self. Not everyone gets to see it,” he says.“So I should count myself lucky??” I
~ELENA~The whispers multiply until it feels like the entire hallway has turned into a low hum of excitement.“Who is he? Does anyone know?”“They say he is doing his masters.”“I heard he's transferred.”“Transferred? He looks like he walked straight out of a magazine.”“D
~NICO~The moment my fist connects with Alessandro’s jaw, the sound is louder than I expect. A sharp crack that silences even the shrieks around us.He stumbles, spits blood, and collapses onto the floor.The crowd roars….half in shock, half in awe. Phones are out, cap
Alessandro stands in the middle of his father’s office, tall and impassive, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. His black shirt clings to his frame, sleeves rolled to the elbows, veins prominent, tattoos peeking at his wrists. The room is thick with tension.Behind the heavy mahogany desk sits
~ELENA~Nico's lips graze my cheeks…almost a kiss.Almost.And then the gym door swings open.“Damn!” We both exclaim.Riccardo walks in, towel over his shoulders. He pauses, eyes flicking between our too-close bodies.“Everything okay here??” He asks, voice neutral, but b







