All Chapters of Filthy Desire : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Isabella had been thinking about this moment since the plane took off from Paris.Two weeks in France had been perfect on paper—museums, late dinners, the kind of soft morning light that made everything look like a painting—but she had spent more time than she wanted to admit missing Lorenzo. Missing the weight of his arm across her waist. Missing the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. By the time her flight landed she already knew exactly how she wanted to see him again.She still had the spare key he had given her months ago. It felt warm in her palm when she slid it into the lock of the apartment he shared with his younger brother. The door opened on quiet. Afternoon light cut across the living room in long stripes. No music. No voices. Enzo’s shoes were not by the door. She checked the time. He should be home any minute.A slow smile pulled at her mouth.Isabella walked straight down the hall to his bedroom and c

Isabella told herself she could handle being in the same room as him again. She was wrong the moment the door opened. Rico didn’t greet her with the easy half-smile he used to give. He just stood there, one hand on the edge of the door, and looked at her. The look was slow and deliberate—mouth, throat, the neckline of her top, back up to her eyes. It felt like a hand sliding over her skin. He stepped aside without a word. The apartment was quiet except for the distant sound of the shower running. Enzo was still getting ready. “He’s almost done,” Rico said. His voice was low. Controlled. It still scraped over every raw nerve she had left. Isabella walked past him into the kitchen because standing in the entryway under that stare felt dangerous. She heard him shut the door and follow. The air between them changed the second they were alone. She opened the cupboard for a glass. He reached past her and took one f

Three days later Enzo left town for an overnight client meeting.Isabella knew the moment he told her. The information settled low in her stomach and stayed there all day. By the time evening came she was already at their apartment, key turning in the lock with fingers that were not entirely steady.Rico opened the door before she could knock a second time.He was barefoot, black T-shirt stretched across his chest, jeans sitting low on his hips. His eyes moved over her once—slow, deliberate—and whatever restraint he had left visibly snapped.“Inside.”She stepped past him. The door shut. The lock clicked. The sound was final.Rico crowded her against the wall of the entryway before she could take another step. His mouth claimed hers in a deep, hungry kiss, one hand gripping her jaw, the other already pushing her dress up her thighs. Isabella made a broken sound against his lips and opened for him. He kissed her like he had been thinking about it every hour since she had been on her kn

The knock came at 9:47 p.m. Three slow, measured raps against the thin wood of her apartment door. Not loud. Not hurried. Just patient enough to make the silence afterward feel deliberate. Olivia Espinosa froze on the worn couch, the plastic fork still in her hand. The cup of instant noodles on the table had already gone lukewarm. No one knocked on her door at this hour. No one really knocked on her door at all. She wiped her hands on her sweatpants, stood, and checked the peephole with her heart already climbing into her throat. A man stood on the other side. Tall. Black coat. Dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. Face expressionless under the dim hallway light. He looked like he had never once raised his voice in his life and never needed to. She cracked the door the width of the chain. “Can I help you?” “Olivi

The knock came at exactly the same time as it had one week earlier. 9:47 p.m. Olivia had been sitting on the edge of the bed for nearly two hours, fully dressed, shoes on, the folded loan papers resting on the table beside her like a verdict. She had thought about running more times than she could count. Packing a bag, leaving the city, disappearing into some other place where no one knew her name. But the thoughts always ended the same way. She had almost no money left. Nowhere to go. And a cold, quiet certainty that Andrzej would find her regardless. When the three slow, deliberate knocks sounded against the door, her body reacted before her mind fully caught up. She stood, crossed the small room, and opened it. Andrzej stood in the hallway exactly as she remembered him—long black coat, dark hair falling slightly forward, expression unreadable beneath the dim light. His eyes moved over her in one b