Lahat ng Kabanata ng Intertwined : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

VioletteHours later, I stood in the center of Renzo’s vast living room, surrounded by glass walls, velvet furniture, and the hushed luxury only wealth can afford. For a fleeting moment, I felt like a jewel locked in a velvet box—precious, rare, and strangely fragile.The red dress clung to me in a way that felt both regal and dangerous, its silk catching the soft glow of the chandelier above. The neckline plunged just enough to suggest scandal, while the low back gave no illusions about its intent: to command attention. The diamonds at my ears and wrist sparkled coldly, a reminder that while beauty may delight, it rarely warms. My hair was swept into an elegant chignon, a few calculated strands left loose to frame my face in softness, despite the storm that brewed in my chest.When Renzo emerged from his bedroom, the shift in the room was instantaneous. His tuxedo fit him like armor, sharp and immaculate, but it was the way he carried it that held me breathless. Power radiated from hi

Violette The first rays of sunlight sliced through the curtains, painting the bedroom in a harsh, golden glare that did nothing to soften the haze of last night's exhaustion. I lay there, my body still buzzing from the marathon fuck session Renzo and I had unleashed hours ago, my small frame pinned under his unyielding weight. His dark hair tickled my thighs as his tongue worked relentlessly between my legs, lapping at my pussy with the kind of hunger that made mornings feel like a battlefield. I was used to early mornings, but this was a different kind of wake-up call."Renzo," I murmured, my voice a mix of frustration and desire. "I have a shift at 9. I really need to start getting ready."My fingers dug into the sheets, trying to anchor myself against the waves of pleasure he was stirring up. But he just looked up, his wicked grin flashing like a predator's, his eyes dark and unapologetic.“Oh, come on, amore,”he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my swollen folds. “You

Violette The hospital lights always buzzed a little too loudly at this hour. Late afternoon sun clung to the windows, but inside, the fluorescent glow was relentless—cold, clinical, and unforgiving. My shift was almost over, thank God, though the thoughts I’d been carrying for three days didn’t look like they were going to clock out soon.Three days since Renzo asked me to be his girlfriend. Three days since I should have been floating, glowing, telling anyone who would listen how he said it and how my heart almost broke my ribs with joy.Three days since the black flowers.And in those same three days, I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t told anyone.I leaned against the counter at the nurses’ station, my badge catching the glare of the overhead lights. My phone buzzed in my pocket. For one terrifying second, I thought it might be Renzo but no. The screen lit up with Aria’s name.Aria: Almost off shift? Can you swing by the apartment after?I typed back slowly, thumb hovering.Me: Sure. E

VioletteWhen I wake up the next morning, I’m already dressed for work. Sleep hadn’t been much of a friend last night, so by the time dawn crept through the blinds, I simply gave up trying to wrestle with restless thoughts and slipped into straight black skirt and white top, and put on light makeup.Distraction—that would be my salvation today. If my body stayed busy, maybe my mind would keep quiet.The faint aroma of coffee reaches me before I leave my bedroom, and I don’t have to guess who’s responsible. Only Aria would be awake this early, sitting cross-legged on the couch with her hair thrown up in that perfectly imperfect bun, a steaming mug in her hands. The news hums from the TV, some anchor droning about politics.See, I’ll never understand it. Most people avoid the heaviness of the news first thing in the morning, but Aria? She devours it with her coffee like it’s part of her routine breakfast. Weird. Comfortingly weird.“Morning,” I say softly, my voice raw around the edges.

Violette I slide into the cool leather of the back seat, the faint scent of polished interiors and Renzo’s cologne lingering in the air as if he had been in the car the whole time. The door clicks shut softly behind me, and before I can exhale, Renzo slips in on the other side—two seconds, maybe less. He’s always like that: precise, intentional, as though even something as small as getting into a car has meaning when it comes to me.We’re on our way to the airport. He told me this morning—no, he announced—that I was coming with him to New York. Just like that, no space for protest, no space for hesitation. His certainty should be comforting, and it is, but it also claws at that fragile part of me that’s still terrified of being left behind.New York. I haven’t been. It sounds like neon lights and restless energy, like a place I could lose myself in if I needed to. The thought should thrill me. Instead, it unsettles me in the way new things sometimes do.I woke up this morning to fin