Amor Secreto Novels & Stories

I popped a Champagne. Since Forrest traveled a lot, he planned on purchasing a jet. He let me look over the reports, investments, and insurance of the new Atto Tech project last month. “What are we celebrating? Don’t tell me Lord Kentworthry is buying this jet?” Pyke joked around. “Not this one. But it’s more than that.” I bit my lip. The girls awwed at me. “You’re not pregnant because you’ve been drinking wine,” Camila clarified. “I am not, silly.”

“But… I loved it. The whole time, I thought I was dreaming.” They both laughed. “Pretty sure my dick finally tapped out about an hour ago,” Thiago said, stretching lazily. “I’m not done yet,” Andres said, his hand grazing her ass. “How do you keep this thing so perfect? What’s your secret?” “Oh, I’ll tell you...” “I’m right here,” Amelia cut in, his voice dry. “Hmm, why so mad, mi amor? Just chatting with my brother,” Thiago teased, his fingers trailing lazily over her skin.

“Ah, a delicious secret. Don’t worry, cousin, my lips are sealed—unless you give me reason to spill.” “Nick,” Tristan warned. “What? I’m joking,” Nicholas said innocently, though his grin betrayed him. Amara, bless her little heart, leaned forward on her elbows, whispering as if it were the biggest conspiracy in the world. “So it’s our secret?” I softened, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes, sweetheart. Just ours.” Her eyes sparkled. “Okay! I’m good at secrets.” Sebastian’s hand squeezed mine beneath the table, the smallest gesture, but it sent warmth flooding through me. For once, there was no need to hide, not from these three.

I should get some secrets unlocked, yeah? 2345? 7890? 0000? Like seriously, did I think he'd be so stupid to use something as simple as that? One last try, Amelia. There was a tattoo on Alessandro's body that says 8989. It was tatted on his lower back but I had seen it while we fucked a couple of times. I punched in the numbers, my heart thumping loudly. Please Lord, this should be the correct password. If I should get what I want then I promise to go to church next Sunday for a Thanksgiving offering.

Curious, she pried it up with a small knife. Tucked away in the dark space was a single envelope, yellowed with age. Her name was written on the front in her father’s neat, shaky handwriting: To my Amora. Her hands trembled as she tore it open. “My dearest daughter,” the letter began. “If you are reading this, it means you have left the city. I prayed this day would never come, but I knew the Alonsos would never appreciate the light you carry. I have a secret I have kept from you to keep you safe from their greed.”

The simplicity of it shook her. “I won’t pretend this is romantic,” he added. “It’s strategic. Dangerous. Complicated.” He stepped closer, voice lowering. “But it’s also real. And I refuse to leave you exposed while the world sharpens its knives.” Amara closed the file slowly. “You’re asking me to marry you in secret,” she said. “To become your wife… without anyone knowing.” “Yes.” “And if I say no?” Dante met her gaze steadily. “Then I’ll protect you anyway. I’ll stand beside you anyway.”