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The Mafia's Crazy Obsession

"I think you enjoyed at least part of your punishment last night, sweetheart." "No," I whispered, my voice barely audible, my eyes still on his hand, on his fingers as they drew small circles that made my toes curl on my exposed, sensitive skin. He moved closer to me, making a small gasp push past my lips as I looked up, our gazes colliding. "Relax. Do you know what the fun part is, Lana? It doesn't always have to be a punishment. It could be something... exciting too. Something you'll most definitely like." - To save her entire family from the Stravkos Mafia - which was the most powerful Mafia family in Tuscany, Italy - Then sixteen-year old Solana Williams agrees to take her sister's place and becomes a sacrificial lamb - becoming Abel Stravkos' wife. Theirs is just a mere marriage of convenience, but now older, wiser and twenty-three, Solana vows revenge for all they did to her family by making Abel's life a living nightmare. Abel Stravkos does not need a wife, but with his cold-hearted father handling the helm of affairs, he's helpless to object. His heart isn't tied to this strange, beautiful, vengeful woman who's been forced down his throat. But the line between love and hate is thin, and Solana's staunch disobedience to his orders fuels his need to control her in every way possible. Driven by revenge, and an undeniable passion sizzling just beneath the surface, it's only a matter of time before their attraction for each other becomes apparent, much to the dismay of his father as well as both internal and external forces trying to pull them apart. Will they ever rise above obstacles lodged in their paths and get their happily-ever-after?

TwentiesGirl · Urban
Not enough ratings
84 Chs

Solana - One Sweet Day

Abel moved into the guest room downstairs while he recovered. The doctor was against him stressing himself, and climbing stairs would be fatal to his health since he was still very much fragile. I moved into the room with him and slept beside him, taking extreme care not to touch the still-tender spot the bullet had ripped into. I knew he still felt pain, but insisted on less and less medication, saying he could wing it. After a day of being home, he could walk to the bathroom and house entrance on his own, although it wore him out.

"This is sickening," he complained a week later after one of his visits to the bathroom. I looked up at him from where I was sitting on the bed. "I hate being weak. That's not the Stravkos way."

He lay back down and I helped him tuck the blanket up to his waist. "Stop whining. You're getting stronger every day. I can feel it."

"Well I can't feel anything but my weak bones and side. I'm not healing fast enough."