Novelas y relatos de Novel Luka Hati Seorang Istri

She took her head up only to find his feral grey eyes on her, and at that moment, her heart started hating him more for this pain which he was now going to bring to her. She hated him. She had never hated anyone the way she hated this man in front of her. The man, who was the father of her child and the man, who was now going to be her husband. Completely lost in her closeness, Luka waited for her to hold his hand. And thankfully, she was smart enough to not create any scene there by ignoring his hand. She placed her palm over his and he clutched it.

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Isabella heard her mutter as she increased her speed. "God, I hate men! All of them, but none of them as much as I hate your husband" she told Isabella bitterly. Isabella refrained herself from reminding the woman that she had two sons. "All he had to do was to part with mere millions. That was all. He could have kept the bloody brat and you as well, but, no…he claims to love the pair of you but he obviously doesn’t love you very much, does he?" Lillian was already dangerously driving and frantically Isabella tried to think of some

"So, that's what this is about? My husband?" "Of course it's about him, Livi! He hates me!" Luka hisses his final words, acting as though his worries couldn't have been more obvious. And Liviana could admit that it was. It should've been her first guess, but somehow, she almost missed it. She blamed the aftershocks of such a surprising reunion. They couldn't blame her for being scattered after such a shock. "He doesn't hate you," she tries, insisting it wasn't like that. "He just... doesn't trust you."

“I… didn’t…” “Of course you didn’t,” Adrian sneered. “An innocent face. Tears. A country girl pretending not to understand.” His gaze lowered, filled with contempt. “Do you think sleeping with me will make you Mrs. De Luca?” Tears fell silently from Livia’s eyes. She was not given the chance to defend herself. Her face was red and had already begun turning bluish. Her eyes rolled upward, and her tongue had already begun to protrude. She still did not even understand why she was in this room.

The feeling of not being in control was ass and seeing Lucia so still in my arms made me realize just how much she'd been through. I checked her file which Adrian gave to me: Orphaned at a young age, raising her sister all alone then a brief spark of stardom before everything went sour and her dreams were trampled upon. Then the fire and her sister's sickness. And now,a marriage contract with me…a stranger who took her hand with the coldness of a business proposal. My eyebrows furrowed in anger. I hated my inefficiency and cluelessness but here I was feeling everything I hated and had once buried.

Christian asked. "No, Lilly, Hannah is not a Mendova, she goes by Hannah Victoria not Hannah Mendova." I said as Christian scoffs. "Or Hannah Victoria Montiquez, she is my wife after all." I could see Christian clenching his fist tightly, if I pushed my luck any further I'll end up either with a bruise on my face or a broken nose. "Don't worry, my deal is reasonable." He said as I give him a go ahead. "Let's hear it." I muttered.

“It’s not that, Sir. She’s overwhelmed. She doesn’t want to be treated specially.” For a moment, Lukas said nothing. Then he frowned. “She doesn’t want to be treated specially?” he repeated. “What kind of idiot is that? Any woman will kill for all that.” “I’m not entirely sure, Sir,” Isaiah replied carefully. “But she said it’s because of her experience with her ex-husband. She prefers to be treated like a regular employee.” Lukas scoffed. “What a strange woman.” He walked to his chair and sat down, leaning back lazily. “Is that some kind of fetish?” he muttered.

A door that had been firmly closed had cracked open just a little. Whether she wanted to walk through it, or slam it shut forever, was a question she couldn’t answer yet. Downstairs, Luca sat at the kitchen island, staring at Valentina’s message. He didn’t reply. Not yet. But his heart the one that had stayed loyal to his daughter for months was now torn in two directions once again. The forbidden love had found its way back. Quietly. Carefully. Dangerously.

“Yeah.” “Why?” “Because you’d touch me. You’d want me.” “That means these nipples belong to me, don’t they?” He squeezes one roughly, sternly, and I whimper, but it breaks into a moan when he cups my core just as hard. “This pussy is mine, too. It’s my pussy, isn’t it?” “Oh, fuck…” “Language.” “Mmm.” “Answer me, Anastasia. Whose pussy is this?” “Yours.”