All Chapters of PROTECTED BY THE DEVIL: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

DIANAI felt my blood boil. Girls like Diana. What the hell did that miserable bastard Domenico mean by that? I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to make a sound that would give me away. Who the hell was he to talk about me like that?“What man could handle that little hellion for more than three days?” I heard Domenico say with a forced little laugh.I looked at Rocco, holding my breath, waiting for his reaction. He kept his expression serious, giving a small nod of agreement.“Yeah, the girl’s a handful.”I was hit with a wave of both anger and relief. Anger that he’d agreed, even if it was part of the act, and relief that he’d managed to keep up the front.He better be bluffing, or he’s going to have to deal with me, I thought, biting my lip hard.Domenico took another deep breath, glancing around the bedroom. “I need to go. I’ve got better things to do than indulge some junior senator’s paranoia.”I watched as he left the room, my anxious mind about to collapse. It wasn’t unti

ROCCOThe sun was high overhead, burning the back of my neck as I walked across the perfectly manicured lawn of the farm. The sound of waves crashing against the beach in the distance was constant, almost calming, but I knew I couldn’t afford to relax. Not while there was still business to close.The real estate agent—a scrawny, jittery guy—wouldn’t stop yapping beside me, like some fucking parakeet trying to convince me this was the best farm on the whole island.“This property is simply exceptional, sir,” he droned, his tone so servile it grated on me more with every word. “Two stories, the best ocean view you’ll find around here. And of course, the isolation… there’s not a single soul within a ten-kilometer radius, just as you requested.”I barely listened, my eyes fixed on the scene ahead. Diana stood there, talking with a local woman while playing with her kids on the grass. The sight of her, that blonde hair catching the wind, mixed with the sound of children laughing. She looke

DIANAI woke up to the sound of waves crashing below, so close I felt like I could reach out and grab the foam through the window.I opened my eyes slowly. The bed was huge—one of those canopy deals with a mosquito net swaying in the breeze. White sheets, cool, crumpled from our bodies all night. Outside, the sun was already high, slipping through the gaps in the linen curtains and painting gold stripes across the light wood floor.Rocco wasn’t next to me.I sat up, my hair falling over my shoulders, and looked around. The room was beautiful—rustic in that way that looks simple but costs a fucking fortune. Exposed stone walls, reclaimed wood furniture, a fluffy rug that sank under my feet when I stood up.I heard noise from the kitchen.I got up, grabbed his t-shirt off the floor—the same one I’d worn yesterday—and went downstairs barefoot. The wood creaked softly under my steps, and the smell of fresh coffee got stronger with every stair.When I got to the kitchen, I almost stopped i

ROCCOA couple days later, I hired a local team to take care of the house.A Hawaiian cook named Leilani, a gardener who barely spoke English, and a new maid—the daughter of a local fisherman. Simple people. Didn’t ask questions. That’s all I cared about.The problem was the maid’s son.The kid showed up the first day to help his mom carry boxes. Early twenties. Strong. Tan. That easy smile guys have when life’s never punched them in the fucking mouth. He hung around after, “organizing” shit that didn’t need organizing.And ever since, he hadn’t stopped looking at Diana.Not just glances. Full-on stares. The kind where you can feel his eyes crawling all over her like ants on honey. I caught him the second day. Third day, he was finding reasons to walk past wherever she was sitting. Fourth day, I was already mentally burying him in a shallow grave.She didn’t help.Today she’s wearing this little yellow dress. The kind that barely covers her ass. Brown hair loose, blowing in the wind.

DIANAThe scream that ripped out of me got swallowed by the wood of the desk. He was too big, too thick, and the feeling of being filled up all at once, no warning, no time to adjust—it was pain and pleasure at the same time, that thin line he loved to walk."Like that?" He asked, his cock buried inside me, stretching me."More.""More what?""Deeper."He grabbed my waist with both hands and started.This wasn't love. Wasn't tenderness. It was raw, visceral fucking—the kind that leaves your body sore the next day and your mind empty of any thought except his name.Rocco fucked me hard, deep thrusts that made the desk creak and slam against the wall. Each drive pushed me forward, and I had to hold onto the edge of the wood so I wouldn't fall. My breasts bounced loose, and the sound of his body hitting mine was obscene, wet, constant.He didn't say anything. Just breathed heavy, grunting low with each stroke, and the silence made everything more intense—just the noise of the wood, skin