Todos los capítulos de The Don's Rebel Pet: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 9

I’ve slept with the most feared man in New York for five years. 999 times. But tonight, he tells me I'm just a tool. And my next task is to pick out a welcome gift for his fiancée.Half an hour ago, Damon showed up at my apartment.Just like every other night for the past five years, he showered, then came to me with that familiar hunger, slamming me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Manhattan a blur below."I want you, Nora."I lost myself in his hungry kisses and rough thrusts.He still smelled like blood, even after his shower. I knew he’d just put down a traitor in the family.I didn't care.He was a monster, the king of New York’s underworld. And he was my only religion.In the dim light, his fingers found the raised scar on my shoulder.I got it saving him from flying glass in an explosion."Does it still hurt?" he whispered, kissing the scar."Not anymore, Damon… For you, it was worth it…" I gasped his name between broken breaths.I used to think this was a fair

The safe house was in an old building in lower Manhattan.My fingerprint opened the lock.Damon was sitting on the sofa.Unexpectedly, he was really injured.His left shoulder wrapped in a makeshift bandage. Blood was already soaking through the white gauze."Who was it this time?" I asked, pulling out the medical kit."Some punk from the Kozlov family," he grunted. "Thought he could make a move on my turf."I cut away his shirt.The bullet had grazed his shoulder blade. Not deep, but it needed stitches.Damon's muscles tensed as the needle pierced his skin.Pain always made him more dangerous, like a wounded animal.Twelve stitches later, I was about to wrap the wound when he yanked me into his lap, crushing my mouth with his. Every thrust was a claim. Mine. Mine. Mine.But all I felt was tired.When he was finished, he held me, his chin resting on my shoulder.His fingers toyed with the Heart of Sicily on my ring finger.It was an ancient, blood-red garnet ring, the symbol of the Vit

Damon's POVI got Bianca back.The price was Nora."Get everyone!" I roared at Marco. "Find Viktor!"Two hours later, the dockyards were on fire.I burned down every Kozlov family stronghold in New York, one by one.I snapped Viktor's neck with my own hands and watched the life drain from his eyes.The satisfaction of revenge lasted only a few minutes.But when the smoke cleared, the rage faded, leaving only a hollow ache where my heart used to be."Marco," I said, wiping the blood from my hands. "Send men to find Nora.""Yes, Godfather.""Use every resource. Hospitals, morgues, the Coast Guard." My voice was shaking. "You find her."Day one.Nothing."Godfather, we've searched a fifty-mile radius of the coast," Marco reported carefully. "No sign of her.""Keep looking.""Yes, sir."I sat in my office with a bottle of whiskey I couldn't drink.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her falling.I saw the blood bloom in the water, like a dying rose.Day two.Still nothing."Godfather, the c

Damon's POVEighteen hours later, I was standing in front of the Volkov estate outside Moscow.Snow was falling. The air was twenty below.I didn't feel the cold.The fire in my gut could melt the damn permafrost."Damon Vitale," one of the Russian guards said in perfect English. "Mr. Volkov is expecting you."I didn't answer. I just followed them inside.The place was a Baroque fortress, a castle of ice and stone.I wasn't here for a tour.I was here to take back what belonged to me.In the main hall, Leo Volkov was sitting on a leather sofa, a glass of vodka in his hand.Blond hair, blue eyes, a tailored black suit.But she wasn't there."Where is Nora?" I got straight to the point."Mr. Vitale," Leo said, his voice calm as he set down his glass. "You've come a long way. Won't you have a drink?""I'm not here for small talk." I pulled my gun. "Give her to me."In an instant, twenty guns were aimed at my head.Leo waved a hand. His men relaxed slightly, but the guns stayed on me."Sit

Nora's POVI knew who sent it.No one else had ever seen the original painting up close.No one else knew what it meant to me.I didn't burn it.Instead, I carefully put it away.Not because I was touched. Because it was a reminder.No matter how perfect the copy, it would never be the original.Just like us. We could never go back.For the next year, the gifts kept coming.Jewelry, famous paintings, antiques, even an entire art gallery.Each one worth a fortune. Each one sent back unopened.The ones I couldn't return, I burned.In the gardens, I built a bonfire from his letters.The flames licked the night sky. A funeral pyre for the girl I used to be."Burning the past again?" Leo asked, wrapping his arms around me from behind."No," I said, leaning back into his embrace. "Just wondering when he'll finally give up.""Maybe never," Leo whispered, kissing my ear. "The men who fall in love with you don't let go easily."I turned to face him. "Including you?""Including me," he nodded se