Marco »»»◈««« "I'm furious with you," Mum seethed, her frustration palpable in her tone. "How could you not tell me, not call me, not even bother to send a message?" She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. "If it wasn't for Niko, I wouldn't have even known if you were alive. Do you have any idea what it's like to not know if your son is dead or alive? To have to rely on second-hand information?" I reached out and held her hand, "I'm here now." Mum squeezed my hand, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "Don't ever do that to me again!" Dad walked into the room, sparing me a disapproving glance before taking his seat in his armchair. "I know how important it was to go underground in the narcotics labs with no contact, but you could have said something before leaving," he said, lighting up his cigar. "I left in a hurry," I said, my voice subdued. "There wasn't time." He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly. "In a hurry, huh? Or maybe too caught up

Lilianna »»»◈««« I groaned, my head pounding even before I dared to open my eyes. Hangovers were the worst, but sometimes, you had to do things you'd never do for the sake of the job. Like last night, when I found myself indulging in celebratory drinks just because my casting director insisted on it. Rolling over in bed, I winced at the slightest movement, my stomach churning with every shift. The room spun slightly as I cracked open my eyelids, the harsh light searing through my skull. I reached for the covers, pulling them over my head in a feeble attempt to block out the world. My mouth felt like a desert, dry and parched, as I groaned softly, regretting every sip from the night before. But then, I realized something. I slowly pulled down the covers once more, and a sense of unease washed over me. The beige-colored ceiling looked vaguely familiar. I furrowed my brow, trying to recall where I was, but my mind drew a blank. I jolted up in a seated position as I recognized the roo

Lilianna »»»◈««« We walked into a high-end restaurant, his hand firmly anchored to my back as he guided us inside. The maître d' greeted us with a nod, instantly recognizing Marco. We were swiftly escorted to a secluded table, the dim lighting casting an intimate glow over the polished silverware and crisp linens. Apparently, Mr. Costello here had reserved a table for us and planned the entire dinner. Typical. He probably planned dates with the same precision he used to run his counterfeit money empire. He pulled out a chair for me and guided me into it before seating himself opposite me. The server approached our table, and without missing a beat, he ordered their most expensive wine. "We'll call you when we're ready to order," he added, dismissing the server with a nod. I watched as the server hurried off, likely to retrieve a bottle that cost more than an average person's rent. Typical Costello—always making a statement. The wine arrived, and as the server poured it into o

Lilianna »»»◈««« I was alone in the elevator as it ascended, my mind still reeling from the night's events. Marco had dropped me off before heading to his warehouse to lock up Mrs. Williamson in a cell. When I entered the penthouse, it was eerily quiet. I wandered through the rooms, finally finding Killer resting peacefully on his bed. At least someone was having a normal night. I crouched down beside Killer and ran my hand over his fur. His food and water bowls were freshly refilled by the automatic feeders. "At least someone's got their life together," I murmured, smiling down at him. After a few moments, I stood up and made my way to my room, my thoughts still a jumbled mess. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, replaying the night's events over and over in my mind. Each detail seemed more surreal than the last, and I couldn't quite believe everything that had happened. Did I just kidnap a woman at gunpoint? And not just any woman—the wife of the M

Lilianna »»»◈««« As soon as I settled into bed and shut my eyes, the sound of the doorknob turning startled me awake. I quickly switched on the nightstand lamp, and the soft light showed Marco standing in the doorway. He was wearing low-slung black pajama pants, and his toned chest was bare, showing off his tattoos. A white pillow was tucked casually under his arm as if he'd just grabbed it on a whim. His hair was tousled in a roguish look, as though he had just rolled out of bed but still managed to look effortlessly put together. The sight of him made my heart race, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the contrast of his dark pants and the ink on his skin. Great, just what I needed—a live-action Calvin Klein ad in my bedroom. I had to calm down before I started drooling like a teenager at a boy band concert. “What are you doing in here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Since you’ve made it clear you’re never moving back to that room, so, I’ve decided to move into th