Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 6

Isabella's PovI've always been drawn to the edge of danger, the kind that makes your pulse race and your skin flush with heat. The forbidden. The taboo. The thought of being claimed, used, treated like a filthy little slut—it’s what keeps me awake at night, my fingers slipping between my thighs as I imagine a man like ‘him’ taking control. Not just any man. Don Massimo. The mafia king whose name alone sends shivers down my spine and makes my pussy throb with need. I’ve dreamed of him for months, ever since I first heard the whispers about him in the shadowed corners of my father’s mansion. A man who owns everything he touches. A man who could break me, ruin me, and make me beg for more. Tonight, I’m done dreaming. Tonight, I’m making it real. I stand in front of my full-length mirror, my heart pounding as I adjust the scandalous lingerie clinging to my curves. The black lace barely covers my full, heavy breasts, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination. The thong

Isabella's Pov I groaned, my head pounding like a drum as I blinked awake. The ceiling above me was strange...high and dark, with fancy wooden beams I didn't recognize. No pink canopy from my bedroom at home. No soft pillows. Just cold, hard reality hitting me. My arms ached, and when I tried to move them, I couldn't. Panic should have kicked in, but it didn't. My wrists were tied to the bedposts with soft silk ropes, tight enough to hold me but not cut into my skin. I tugged a little, testing them, and a rush of heat flooded my body. Massimo did this. The mafia king himself tied me up. My breath hitched, sharp and needy. God, why wasn't I scared? I should be screaming, fighting, begging to be let go. He was the most dangerous man in the city—whispers said he killed without blinking, owned half the underworld, broke people like toys. But no. The thought of his strong hands wrapping those ropes around my wrists made my pussy throb. Wetness pooled between my thighs, soa

Massimo's POV Markus left with that stupid victorious smile still stuck on his face, and the silence that followed him was loud enough to choke me. I stood there alone, one hand around my whiskey glass, swirling the amber liquid in slow circles. The ice clinked softly, mocking me. I stared at the smooth swirl like it held answers, like it could explain why the hell I—Massimo De Luca—had let a foolish, reckless girl stay in my home. It shouldn’t matter. It should not concern me if Pablo wanted her. It should not be my problem if he paid three million to own her, hurt her, ruin her. That was none of my business. I should have just let Markus take her out. Let Pablo claim her. Let whatever happened…happen. But the moment Markus talked about her and Pablo in the same sentence, something in me twisted—tight, sharp, ugly. And the word “Wait” left my mouth before I even knew I’d said it. I brought the glass to my lips, but I didn’t drink. I just stood there,