All Chapters of Ten Sinful Commandments : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The wine was dry. The party was louder than she liked. And yet Lydia Roman stayed rooted in place, her fingers tracing the crystal rim of her glass, waiting for something she couldn’t name.Or someone.The room shimmered in gold and shadows—an engagement party for someone she barely knew, in a city she never wanted to return to. But here she was, twenty-seven, perfectly composed in red silk and stiletto heels, pretending she still belonged in this world of power, money, and whispered sins.“Lydia Roman,” came a voice behind her. Deep. Smooth. Familiar in the most unsettling way.She didn’t have to turn. She already knew.Damian Moretti.The man she’d run from five years ago. The man who once had her pinned against a wall in Milan, whispering things no man ever dared. The man whose name she hadn’t said aloud since… but never stopped thinking.Her breath caught—just a second too long. Then she turned.“Damian.” Her voice was steady. Her heart was not.He hadn’t changed. Tall, effortless

Lydia stood in front of the black double doors, heart pounding so violently it echoed in her ears. The card Damian left her—black, unmarked, just an address and a time—was still tucked into her coat pocket, like a dare burning against her skin.She was here. She shouldn’t be.And yet, she wanted to be.A dark-suited man opened the door without a word, eyes cool as he stepped aside. Inside, shadows and gold met her. Velvet walls. A low hum of jazz. Opulence wrapped in mystery.And him.Damian stood across the room like he owned every secret within it. His shirt, half unbuttoned. A tumbler of whiskey in one hand. And that gaze—unchanging, unreadable, but devouring.“You came,” he said simply.Lydia swallowed, walking in as the door shut behind her.“I shouldn’t have.”“But you did.”He moved toward her slowly. Each step deliberate. Commanding. She fought the urge to step back.“I have one rule, Lydia.”Her spine straightened. “Only one?”“For now.”He handed her a folder. Black leather.

Lydia didn’t go to the gallery that day.She stayed home. Curtains half-drawn. Coffee untouched. The photograph of Damian—kneeling, bloodied, younger—burned on her nightstand like a warning she couldn’t look away from.Her phone buzzed again.Damian: “You left the envelope open. That’s brave.”She didn’t respond.Buzz.Damian: “Do you know what number two is yet?”Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Then, finally:Lydia: “You’ve done this before. Haven’t you?”A long pause.Buzz.Damian: “I’ve never done you before.”She hated the jolt of heat that sent through her. Damn him. Every word felt like a velvet rope—soft but coiled with tension.She tried to turn her phone off.But it lit up again.Damian: “Check the box by your door.”She froze.Slipped quietly to the door.A black box sat there. Wrapped in matte ribbon, cold as the air around it.Inside: a phone. Not hers. A burner.And a note.“Only this line. When I want you, you’ll know.”It lit up instantly in her hand.Unknown Numbe

Lydia stood frozen in place as the man in the suit stepped into the room. His cold, calculating eyes met hers, and her stomach twisted in knots. It was as if the air around them thickened, heavy with unspoken threats. Damian’s back was to her, and she could see his muscles tense as he addressed the intruder.“I told you before, don’t come here,” Damian’s voice was low, his tone edged with something darker.The man didn’t flinch. He stepped fully into the room, his eyes never leaving Lydia. “I didn’t come for you, Damian.” His voice was smooth, controlled, and the faintest hint of amusement curled his lips. “I came for her.”Lydia’s heart slammed into her chest. “Me?” Her voice barely escaped, breathless with confusion and unease.Damian’s head snapped toward her, his eyes blazing with a storm of emotions. For a moment, their gazes locked, and she saw it—the flicker of warning, of possession, of something that threatened to unravel everything she thought she knew.The man in the suit i

The ride to his penthouse was silent.Not tense, but simmering. The kind of silence where every second feels like a tease, every breath a challenge. Lydia sat beside Damian in the backseat, her legs crossed, her dress a little too short after he’d dragged her out of that gala like she belonged to him.And maybe… she did. At least for tonight.“I hate that you think you can just pull me out of places,” she finally said, voice low but sharp.Damian didn’t even glance at her. “And yet you came.”That smug bastard.She turned her face toward the window, catching her reflection—flushed cheeks, lips still stained from his kiss earlier, eyes wild like a storm about to hit land. This wasn’t her. Or maybe it was the version she had buried for far too long.The elevator ride was worse. Confined. Quiet. Electric.His scent—dark leather and expensive sin—wrapped around her like a noose. Her body ached, throbbing with the need she didn’t want to name. When the doors slid open into the penthouse, h