Semua Bab BURN FOR ME: MR. MATTEO'S DESIRE : Bab 1 - Bab 10

ARIELLE'S POVCold seeped into my bones, then the pain as I woke up slowly. My head throbbing like someone had hit me with a hammer while I slept. My mouth felt dry, I could still persive the hoozing smell of blood on my dress. I tried move my arms and whimpered softly as I felt rope dig into my skin. I realized that my wrist were now bound to the chair. My hankles tied so hard I could barely even wiggle my toes. I felt thirsty and hungry. The room felt darker than before, I noticed that the single bulb in the room had been switched off my Mr Morretti’s men. I tried to move but the more I did, the more pain travelled through my delicate skin. The door opened softly and Matteo Morretti stepped in, looking fresh in new clothes. Black shirt with sleeves rolled up, showing his strong arms. He switched on the light and I winced as it blinded my eyes which was already getting used to the darkness. I hated that he saw me broken and Vulnerable. Matteo pulled a chair and sat across me, kn

ARIELLE'S POV This was the third time I was wearing a wedding gown.The cathedral was grander than the others. Matteo's family chapel at the estate. It was obvious that the building had been standing for centuries. His men lined the pew again in dark suits. But this time there were others too, Matteo's cousins and relatives, business associates also clad in dark suits. Women dripping diamonds and dresses that looked like they would cost a fortune. I stood there, staring at my reflection in the tall guarded mirror. My gown was exquisite, off the shoulder lace that clung to my skin, outlining every curve. Someone had done my make-up flawlessly. My red swollen eyes were not visible. They were hiding under layers of make-up. I felt like a corpse being dressed for viewing. I could still remember everything from this morning. A soft knock on my door, then it opened without my response.Celeste walked on first, her expensive perfume lingered in the air. Behind her was Lydia, a blond, ta

ARIELLE'S POV After the disastrous wedding night with Don Matteo, I forced myself to sleep. It felt like my entire body was protesting against me, but with time my eyelids felt heavy and I finally fell asleep. Morning came quickly. I groaned as my eyes met the sharp lights in his bedroom. “Buonginora, Signora Moretti." I stared at the maid in a black dress and white apron around her waist. She had a white net on her head too, and gloves. I've noticed all his workers dress in black. What would one expect from a man with a black heart. “I'd prefer you speak English. My Italian isn't fluent.” I said and her eyes widened for a split second before it vanished. “Si.” She muttered under her breath and paused when she realized her mistake. “I'm sorry Madame.” She said and I brushed it off. “It's okay, I understand that it takes a while to come to terms with things like that. Call me Arielle.” I instructed. “The Don would not hear of it, Madame. You are his wife. It is our duty to

ARIELLE'S POV After the disastrous breakfast moment with Matteo and his associates, Liora approached me on my way out. I knew I was going to meet up with her for the training. But here she was, already in front of me. “Mr Nikolai Morretti does not like to be kept waiting, my lady. We must hasten up.” I bit my bottom lip, and walked with her. “What's he like? I don't think I got to meet him at the wedding. I said and she chuckled. “None of the Morretti's were present at the wedding with the Don. You should be careful, My lady.” She said calmly, but I knew those words had an even deeper meaning. One I wasn't ready for. We walked together. After some time, we appeared in front of the training room. It smelled of leather, sweat, and gun oil. Located, in east wing of the estate—high ceilings, mirrored walls on one side, padded mats on the floor, and racks of weapons that looked far too well-maintained to be decorative. Nikolai Moretti waited in the center of the mat, arms c

Arielle’s POVWe were still in the same position, I tied off the suture with trembling fingers, cut the thread, and pressed fresh gauze over the neat row of black stitches. Matteo hadn’t made a sound the entire time, just watched me with those unreadable eyes, his hand still resting lightly at the nape of my neck like an anchor.I sat back on my heels. The gown had slipped further, barely clinging to my hips now. I didn’t fix it. What was the point? He’d already seen everything the silk wasn’t hiding.“Done,” I said, voice steadier than I felt.He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Not bad for a civilian.”“I’ve stitched worse.” The words came out before I could stop them, too revealing.His brow lifted. “When?”I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”He studied me another long second, then his fingers flexed against my neck, not pulling, just… holding. “It matters to me.”The admission hung between us, quiet and dangerous.I swallowed. “You’re losing blood. You need to lie down.”“I need