All Chapters of CLAIMED BY MY MAFIA BODYGUARD: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

SERENA’S POV“I don’t love Isadora,” Michael’s voice rang out as he kissed his mistress. “I never loved her. She’s nothing to me, other than a sex toy and a live-in maid.” For a moment, it felt as though my heart had stopped beating. He never loved me, really? For five years I stayed with him, for five years I loved and cared for him, but to him I was nothing but a live-in maid and a sex toy? Loss? That was what sat heavy in my chest as I replayed those words over and over again in my mind. I had carried that word “loss” since I was nine, when my grandfather’s body folded over mine and the bullets meant for me tore through him instead. It’s been sixteen years and I have never forgiven myself for that. Sixteen years had passed, but the guilt of that nine-year-old girl still lived somewhere inside me. The girl who had watched her grandfather take bullets meant for her. The girl who had spent years believing her family secretly blamed her for his death, even though none of them had ev

STEFANO’S POV This isn’t supposed to happen. Not with her. Not with Serena De Luca. But here I was staring down at her as she lay stretched across the sheets in nothing but that thin lace bra, it’s delicate fabric doing nothing to hide the dark peaks of her nipples. They stood tight and flushed, pushing against the pattern of the lace as if they had been waiting for my mouth. She reached for her the waistline of her thin lace underwear and pulled it down her legs as she stared at me. She tossed the underwear aside and parted her thighs seductively, giving me the view of her bare pussy. Her breathing came quick and shallow while her eyes stayed fixed on me, open and inviting.“Having sex with someone like her is a mistake especially when she’s your….” I tried to caution myself under my breath, but I stopped myself. I knew deep down that this moment was a mistake. Every calculated part of me knew it. Touching her like this crossed a line that could never be walked back. We were neve

SERENA’S POV Sixteen years of a carefully built life fit into three cardboard boxes and two suitcases. I sat in the quiet cabin of the private jet with my forehead resting against the cool window and watched clouds slide past in endless white. My legs trembled but I didn’t stand up. The flight from America to Italy took the better part of ten hours. Every minute carried me closer to the house where I had once known what safety felt like before fear and guilt packed me onto a plane at nine years old. I had built walls since then, thick ones. I answered my mother’s calls and my brother’s messages, yet I kept my father at a careful distance, not out of hatred. He had done what he believed was necessary to keep me alive. I simply no longer knew how to reach for him the way the younger version of me once had. The last time they had visited was two years ago and our conversation had ended in raised voices all because I refused to leave the life I had carved out for myself as a writer. I