PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS CHAPTER *Penelope’s POV* It was obvious that Edgardo was struggling as he led me to our room. I mean, the tent in his pants had me struggling too, especially after that hot kiss he gave me. Something about jealous Edgardo made the area between my legs clench with desire. I don’t even recognize the person he turns me into. Edgardo pulled me into the bedroom before I could dwell too much on the moisture pooling between my legs. I was about to walk towards the closet, but he stopped me by tugging my hand towards the bathroom. “We can pick something out after our shower,” he commented when I raised my brow in question. As soon as we entered the bathroom, he released my hand and made his way towards the shower, opening the faucet and checking the temperature after a few seconds. I licked my lips nervously as I waited by the counter. I looked into the mirror, making sure that my hair looked good. Don’t ask me why, after what ha

*TRIGGER WARNING* *Alberto’s POV* ~Several days later~ “Would you stop fidgeting already? I need to clean the blood from your knuckles,” Francisco muttered, pulling my hand closer to him as he pressed the rag on my cuts again. With my other hand, I lifted my glass of whiskey to my lips to try to make my body, heart, and mind numb. Nothing hurt more than my fūcking heart though. My angel was alone. Dio, what were they doing to her? I knew the answer to that fūcking question. I was even more certain when I received that message about her getting married a few days ago. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Now he’s touching her. Hurting her. A tug on my cup broke me free from the dark place my mind was going to. “You need to stop drinking so much,” Francisco muttered as Aurelio’s eyes met mine through the rearview mirror. “You aren’t looking good.” My gaze shifted towards Francisco’s, fixing him with a hard glare as he raised his brow. “She’s my daughter too. I’m just a

*Penelope’s POV* I don’t recognize myself. The fact that the little show actually made me so wet and Edgardo… Well, had me at the brink before pulling away had my emotions clashing. I was horny as hell, and I was pissed. How could he just tease my poor pūssy like that? She has feelings too, you know? I looked around briefly, realizing the little hallway was getting pretty full, and leaned into Edgardo’s face as I poked his chest. “You can’t just tease my body as you wish and where you wish,” I sneered, making him chuckle lowly, sending the vibrations right to my aching pūssy. Well, r.i.p. panties. “You sure about that?” He taunted as he wrapped his hands around my small wrists before twisting me around and pinning both hands behind me. “Need I remind you that you, Penelope Benedetti, are all fūcking mine?” I cleared my throat while trying to hide my flushed cheeks from the nearby onlookers. I wanted to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, but I quite like his package and woul

*Alberto’s POV* “Fūck, angel,” I groaned as I pushed her against the bed and ripped her tiny dress right through the middle. “I missed you so much.” “Padrino,” she cried, spreading her legs further apart for me. “I want you. Need you.” “Me too, angel. Me fūcking too,” I growled as I popped the button of my pants open and lowered the zipper. She watched me with hunger as I pulled out my throbbing cōck. The tip of my shaft leaked with pre-cūm at the thought of being so close to home. My cōck and I have never been so desperate to be inside of a woman before. “Fūck me, Alberto,” she begged me with hooded eyes as her teeth worried her bottom lip. “Patience, angel,” I hissed as my hand slowly caressed up and down her body. First my thumb trailed her pouty lips before my rough knuckles stroked her jaw and then her neck. My eyes and hands mesmerized at the beautiful woman before me. I’d never bow down to anyone but Isadora Blanco Di Luca. A fact that even I can’t believe crossed my mi

*TRIGGER WARNING* . . . *I'M SO SERIOUS | YOU'VE BEEN WARNED* *Alberto’s POV* I walked into my basement as I rolled up my sleeves. The room smelled—reeked of blood, sweat, and piss. As it should, of course. My men surrounded Santoro’s already bleeding figure as he hung from the ceiling by his arms. “I hope he’s awake already,” Francisco hissed from behind me. “Because I’m itching to have some fun.” “Me too, Fratello. Me too.” I said as my men opened a path for Francisco and me. As soon as Santoro heard our footsteps, he lifted his head and smiled at us cockily. I really hate the fūcker. Him and his son. “It took you long enough,” he stated calmly before spitting out blood to the side. “You’d think he wouldn’t be so cocky when he’s going to die,” Francisco hissed as he ripped open his shirt. Unlike me, Francisco tended to prefer to have his shirt off when things were about to get extra bloody. Me? The more blood, the better, and I could care less if my clothes was d