All Chapters of My Biker Mafia Stepbrother: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Candice's P.O.V.I stood at the Los Angeles airport, gripping my suitcase while Mom bounced beside me, fixing her lipstick like a teenager. Since my stepdad said he’d pick us up, she acted like it was the biggest honor.Sanna d' Agostino was a famous billionaire, but I didn’t get why Mom acted like a giddy schoolgirl. My real dad always picked us up, and no one made a fuss.I heard loud footsteps and a high-pitched giggle. I turned and saw Mom making out with Sanna like it was a show. I wanted to throw up.The same woman who scolded my dad for public affection was now kissing her new husband. The divorce was just a month old. Maybe this had been going on longer. They never told me, so I stayed quiet.Sanna came over grinning too wide. “Candice, sweetheart! How are you?”I forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mr. d' Agostino.”Mom shot me a glare, but I didn’t care. I had a plan: one year, then college far from this mess.“No need for formalities,” Sanna said. “Call me Dad.”I smiled fake. “My d

Candice P.O.V.I rolled around my bed like a restless kitten, moving from one side to the other. This weird habit had followed me since childhood. I always rolled around when I felt angry, bored, or annoyed. Sometimes I even fell off, but I never cared—it helped me feel calmer.I had already unpacked my things in this oversized room that looked like it came straight from a dollhouse. Pink and purple everywhere, a giant princess bed, and a bathroom bigger than my old bedroom. Any normal girl would have squealed in excitement, but I didn’t feel anything except emptiness. I missed my old small room where everything smelled like home.The wardrobe was filled with expensive clothes—dresses, skirts, shoes, bags—all shiny and new. I didn’t even bother to look at half of it. I hated dresses. My go-to was jeans, hoodies, and sneakers. All of this felt like my mother’s doing, her way of turning me into some rich man’s showpiece.Sanna had spent a fortune trying to impress me. I wondered why he

Mantovani's P.O.VAt nine on the dot the convoy came out: three black SUVs, dark windows, armed drivers. Candice and Sanna were in the middle car with me. Mom- Sanna’s wife was sitting up front with whatever classical she had picked on humming along with. Candice was sitting next me, and then her thighs were pressed together, and that white dress seemed to be getting higher each time we felt a bump. I stared at the window, and counted olive trees like beads of a rosary.She smelled of orange blossoms and something warmer, something that made my mouth water and my stomach knot at the same time. I hated it. I detested the fact that I was conscious of her, even so that every breath she drew made me feel as though I were being scratched by fingers.Sanna fussed in the passenger seat. "You two should talk. We have three hours."Candice made a little courteous laugh. "I'm fine watching the scenery."“The scenery is the same as it was yesterday,” Sanna said. "Talk."I felt her glance at me.

Candice's P.O.VI woke up with him on my tongue, and sore between my legs, as though I had been possessed in a dream. When I tore my bikini in the shower it was still wet, and the slightest drop of water on my breasts caused me to say his name in my thoughts.I had practised a hundred cold, ungrateful phrases by breakfast. Nobody managed to live long enough to see me enter the terrace and encounter him.Mantovani was at the balustrade of the stone, holding black coffee in one hand, the phone, in the other, the white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Wilhelm stood in the sunshine in the same way that he looks untouchable. As his eyes jerked up and his eyes met mine the cup paused half-way to his mouth.Just a second. Less than a second. But the fire of that look burned right down my back and into the pit of my stomach.I compelled myself to continue walking. Conti was there at the table already, both delighting Mom and Sanna with tales. Bianca was sitting next him and she had enormou

Candice’s P.O.V.The second the lock clicked, the air in the room changed.It wasn’t soft anymore.
It wasn’t tender.
It was oxygen meeting gasoline.Mantovani turned from the door and looked at me like a man who’d just heard his own death sentence and decided to greet it with teeth bared.“You want me to ruin you?” His voice was barely human. “Fine.”He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the front of the cut still hanging open on my shoulders, and ripped it down my arms. Leather hit the floor with a heavy thud. Then his hands were on my throat…not squeezing, just holding me still while his mouth crashed into mine so hard I tasted blood.I kissed him back just as violently, biting his lower lip until he growled. My nails clawed down his chest, reopening the scratches from earlier. He hissed in pain and liked it.He spun me, slammed me chest-first against the wall beside the bed. One brutal hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine bowed.“You want the