Bitter Melon

Caily Galileo believes everyone can change, everyone can become an angel. Everyone except Pietro Giacometti. He is a damned monster who will never change. And not his devilishly charming smiles that are only ever directed to her can change her opinion of him. Pietro Giacometti knows what he wants and what belongs to him and Caily Galileo belongs to him. He has been away from her for years but it is now time Caily knows and accepts that she can only ever belong to one man, Pietro Giacometti... MINE PEACHES NOTE: If you have read any of my books in the past, then you'd know my male leads kill and things can get a little bit dark but this particular book might be darker than all my previous books. Pietro Giacometti is an obsessed man who will do anything and everything to be with Caily even if it's the most unhinged thing ever. He is dark and wild. This book, however does not contain non consensual sex or rape in any form. Thank you for choosing to read 'MINE, PEACHES'. Trigger warnings: Stalking, obsession, explicit violence, BDSM.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

"I curse you." A mewled whisper erupted her throat steadily raising her shaken up gaze. The man who had her jaw held in a terrific grip gave her a twisted smile having no effect from her words. He found them absurd and full of stupidity. "I CURSE YOU! YOU AND YOUR FATHER WILL LOSE ALL YOUR HAPPINESS AND PEACE! IT'S A CURSE OF A DAUGHTER, YOU IMBECILE!" She cried loudly right on his face which did snatch his smile but something in him refused to accept the power behind her curse. But her heart bled curse did what he considered a myth. Shaken up his soul. Tarnished his peace. Snatched his every happiness. He was left with nothing but agony and pain he once conflicted on an innocent. If you want to read a story full of regret, redemption, hate and pain then welcome. WARNING: THERE CAN BE GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES SO DON'T MIND.

At a young age, Lushiane Meradeltas tasted the bitterness of life. Having an incomplete family is such a pain in her heart. But, someone caught her attention. That's the start when she tasted the sweetness of life. But conflicts started to show up, giving her a tasteless life. How could she endure life's challenges? If forgiveness and acceptance are the solutions to one's problem, can she do it? How can she be loved, if she keeps on running?

“Stop this God forsaken wedding!!” I boom, my voice resonating through the halls of the church. Murmurs fill the air as eyes turn to me, dressed in nothing but rags. My grip tightens on the bat in my right hand. How dare they? How dare he? My eyes burn as I match forward, my body trembling with rage. “Clara, what–” His words are barely out before I send my hand forward, swinging the bat at him. Thick red blood spurts out as screams fill the air. ~~~~~ Clara Anthony thought it was love when she took the fall for a theft her husband committed just a few weeks after she gave birth. Thought she was doing the right thing for him, for them, but she was wrong because on the day she came out three years later, she found out he was getting married to her best friend of ten years. Her whole world shatters as she watches her best friend take her life, her husband, and her daughter. Left with nothing but pain and a deep ache for revenge. She teams up with the one person she swore never to look at again, the one person everyone thought was dead. Spencer Anthony, twin to her husband and her first love, the same man who left her without a word. Now he is back from the dead, not as the same man she once knew, but a cold, heartless mafia man who wants nothing but destruction. As Spencer offers her a chance to reclaim her life and daughter. Filled with nothing but hate, she takes up the offer, determined to make everyone pay. But what she didn't know when going close to Spencer was that when dining with the devil, you use a long spoon.