Mag-log inGianna Toricelli has always survived by wearing masks. By day, she’s the disappointing daughter trying to make her dying mother proud. By night, she dances under neon lights to pay debts that could cost her friends their lives. Then her mother marries into the most powerful crime family in the city. And Gianna comes face-to-face with the man who once watched her behind a mask. Raphael Capone is ruthless, brilliant, and used to winning. He doesn’t tolerate weakness. He doesn’t forgive betrayal. When secrets start to unravel, debts turn deadly, and billions hang in the balance, Gianna is forced to choose: Protect the people she loves… Or survive the man who has decided she belongs to him. In the Capone world, love isn’t soft. It’s possession.
view moreShe froze for the briefest moment. Then her fingers found the front of my shirt, holding onto the fabric as though she were afraid I might disappear if she let go. Her soft gasp died in her throat as my mouth pressed into hers. The small hesitation in her body melted away, turned into a fire that
Or... For me. She smiled. It wasn't the bright, carefree smile she wore during her rare moments of happiness. This one was smaller, almost shy. As though she wasn't entirely certain how I would react to finding her here. I simply stood there with one hand still resting on the doorknob, staring at
One picture made my hand stop. Gianna couldn't have been older than ten. Her hair was tied neatly into a bun, every other child smiling proudly toward the camera. Gianna wasn't looking at the photographer. She was staring somewhere beyond the frame, her expression distant, almost watchful, as though
His gaze softened in a way I had only seen a handful of times. "Raphael, if anyone can convince her to speak, it's you." I looked away, the words never reached my mouth because another thought had already taken their place. Scars. My breathing slowed by instinct. Images surfaced one after anothe
The air in my lungs stopped. My eyes flew open, my vision swimming with dark spots as the pressure increased. He was holding me so tight I couldn't swallow, couldn't gasp, couldn't do anything but feel the terrifying power in his arm. My heart hammered against my ribs, and the panic rose up in my
She let out a small, broken whimper and dove back down, her tongue frantic, her teeth grazing me as she tried to prove me wrong. She was gagging, her eyes watering as she fought her own anatomy to please mine. It was exactly what I needed. No complexity. No "stepsister" bullshit. I watch
“Shit—!” I gasped. I grabbed a handful of tissues from his desk and leaned over him without thinking. I started dabbing at his lap, my hands moving fast and frantic. I was pressing the tissues against his thighs, trying to soak up the heat before it burned him, my mind screaming with panic. “I’m
"You're even hotter than they said." "Please!" I sobbed, my face half-buried in the leaves, "Please, let me go! I didn't know... I didn't agree to this!" I tried to crawl forward, my fingers clawing at the mud, but he just laughed. It was a dark, mean sound. He grabbed the back of my black top and












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