Where Did The Nietzsche Horse Episode Occur In Turin?

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the bride's face covered in his thick sticky seed. After this night, he wanted to close this chapter of his life. He wanted to forget it all. He should have. Tristan awoke in a cold, unfamiliar room, the fear paralyzing. Now, bound and gagged in a concrete cell, the memory was a burning brand. He learned why they called Giovanni Sokolov "The Siberian Winter." Giovanni, a face carved from granite, stood before him. "My bride," Giovanni’s voice was a low growl, "You entertained my fiancée, She died a week ago, trying to run away with a man. Your seed was the catalyst. You helped her betray me." Giovanni leaned closer, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She was running away, Dr. Hayes. You helped her crave forbidden fruit. You opened the door to betrayal." He smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "Now, you will pay the price of her betrayal. You will take her place... as my companion in bed... my slave and my plaything. Don't worry I'll make you'll enjoy every second of it."

"Does riding a horse feel good?" The saddle jolted beneath us as the horse trotted along. I steadied myself by holding the slender waist of my friend's alluring wife. Her skirt fluttered constantly in the wind. My friend was in a nearby house, completely absorbed in a card game—while right in front of him, I was out riding a horse with his beautiful, delicate young wife…

With a sharp gunshot, my husband of twenty years, Marcus De Luca, rushed in front of me and took the bullet for me. As he lay dying, he spoke gently. “Nerina, live well.” I held him in my arms. My tears kept falling as I pressed hard against the wound in his chest. But he only touched my hair. His eyes fell on Vivian’s body. “She’s dead. I have no reason to live either.” It felt like a bullet had gone through my head. All the blood in my body froze. “She suffered in Sicily for twenty years.” “She finally came back, and now she died in front of me.” “Please stay alive. Bury me with her.” “If there is another life, don’t let her go to Sicily in your place again.” “Please make us whole.” His hand fell. My world collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of Marcus’s father. The old Don looked at me. “Your wedding with Marcus is set for three days from now.” I lifted my head and spoke calmly. “Marcus’s bride should not be me. It should be Vivian.” “As for Sicily, I’ll go.”

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

Simple, Smart, Sexy and Serene? then I must have you. Oh, you don’t date playboys? tough luck. Funny how I’ve been commanded to stay away from you but where’s the fun in that? If you think you can walk away from me, think again. You think dating someone else will deter me? watch me strategically deal with him so he wouldn’t dare touch you again. In fact, I will publicly claim you so that no sane man will dare to ever want you. I see you love your family and village so much, now I love them too, I might as well take them over. It’s not possession, I’m just crazy about you. Dream big baby, be the scientist you want to be. I will even build a research lab for you right here, now you have no reason to ever leave my side. It really hurts that you thought you were never going marry me, I might have omitted to tell you that we’ve been married for almost three years now and I don’t do divorce. Oh, don’t rely much on that contraceptive injection you’ve been taking because when I want an heir, I get an heir. You can be stubborn and rebellious, I find it cute but don’t go too far because you see that house and that village you love so much, you will have to watch it burn to the ashes. I am S’bu, the CEO of JC and the heir to the Jobe empire. I want you to be completely mine, who are you to go against me?

Jacopo's hands roved down my body, and he crushed me to his chest as the kiss grew passionate. A soft moan escaped my lips as I savored the feeling of his touch. His hard frame pressed against me, and I could feel the unmistakable bulge in the crotch of his pants. "You want me even though you know how bad I am for you," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire. I nodded, unable to form words. The feelings I felt for him were consuming me, and I knew there was no going back.Sophia's passion and dream was to restore art. Accepting a job from a mysterious wealthy man led her into a secretive world of the mafia, art theft, money laundering, and blood. But even with the danger that now surrounded her, Sophia chose to lose herself in the arms of the heir to the dirty empire behind it all. Could she survive the passion of the Italian mafia and their business, or will she become a victim of their world?Vendetta and Vino: Tuscan Temptations is created by Amelie Bergen, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.