All Chapters of POSSESSED BY CIRO : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

~~Oriana’s Pov~~My feet tapped involuntarily on the floors, making a sharp annoying sound that was getting on my nerves but somehow I could not get myself to stop. I walked to the waiting desk once more, “Excuse me,” I motioned to the tan middle aged man looking that couldn't seem to stop stealing glances at me every five minutes.“Yes ma'am” he shone his yellow thirty sets at me, I almost gagged.I slammed my ID down on the desk, “May I know why I've been waiting for a bail I posted for the past two hours? Standard procedure said forty five minutes to an hour did it not? Why am I not being attended to?” My voice grew colder and harder the more I spoke, something I had learnt dealing with different kinds of clients in court.His face paled, his gaze turned respectful “we'll get to you as soon as possible ma'am” he straightened his back, adopting a more respectful stance and tone. I rolled my eyes, “you do just that. And I would like your Badge number too. You'll be hearing from m

~~Ciro~~ The club roared with life, music boomed from all angles, the smell of cigarettes, musk and sex filled the air. I walked straight to my private room, ignoring the dirty looks sluts threw at me. They knew better than to approach.The door shut behind me, “Let's welcome the man of the hour” Aiden's voice bounced off the soundproof wall followed by cheers. I rolled my eyes, “Drama King” I plopped down to a chair, a server handed me a glass, I took and nodded for her to leave. She cat walked out, her ass shaking through the see through thong she wore. Aiden whistled, smacking her ass, “now that's what I'm talking about”“Aiden” I warned, stopping whatever was about to happen before it began.“Later” he mouthed at her with a wink, she blew him an air kiss, then turned to me, one look at her froze whatever idea was running through her pretty little head.She practically ran off.Aiden stared at me, a frown etched on his face. “What?” I sipped my wine.“Spoil sport” he rolled hi

~~Oriana~~Eight minutes.I stared at that screen and felt my whole body go cold.Eight minutes before everything I had ever loved got blown to pieces because of me. Because I had the most terrible luck of walking down the wrong alley on the wrong night in this rotten city.My throat tightened.I pressed my lips together hard, refusing to cry in front of these men. I had already given Ciro enough satisfaction for one night. I wasn’t about to give his little puppets any more.But Cassie’s face on that screen wouldn’t leave my head. Blindfolded, trembling, a gun pressed to her forehead like she was nothing. Like her life meant nothing.And Matron. God, Matron.I thought of her hands first – always her hands. Rough and warm, always smelling faintly of the soup she had permanently on the stove. She used to press them to my forehead whenever I was sick, checking my temperature before she even said a word. She had raised me without being asked to. She had never once made me feel like a burd

~~Oriana~~I’ve known about you longer than you’d think.Rosa’s words followed me all the way back upstairs.I turned them over in my head while Nica helped me into the dress Rosa had picked –a deep blue thing, fitted and simple, the kind that didn’t try too hard but still made a statement.I turned them over while Rosa sat on the edge of my bed talking at a speed that probably had its own weather system, pulling my hair back with hands that were surprisingly gentle for someone who moved through the world like a small controlled explosion.I didn’t ask her what she meant. Not yet.Partly because I had learned early that the best way to get real information out of someone was to let them forget you were listening. And Rosa, for all her brightness, was still a Conti. She had grown up in the same house as Ciro. Whatever she knew, she would only tell me on her own terms.But mostly I didn’t ask because I was still carrying the morning inside me like something fragile, and I wasn’t sure I

~~Oriana~~“Four days.”That was how long I had been inside Sept Tour without losing my mind completely.I wasn’t sure if that said something good about my resilience or something concerning how quickly a person could start adjusting to circumstances they never asked for. Probably both.The house had a rhythm. I had spent the first day just listening to it - the way it woke up before the sun did, the distant sounds of movement downstairs before I even opened my eyes, the smell of coffee that drifted up through the corridors every morning like clockwork. By the third day I had stopped flinching at the sound of boots on the ground floor or voices speaking rapid Italian somewhere below my room.I was adapting.I hated that I was adapting.Breakfast was the one part of the day that had its own specific kind of tension.It was just the two of us every morning at that long table. Ciro at the head, papers and coffee. I to his right, tea and the quiet effort of pretending to be unbothered by