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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 · Ciudad
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84 Chs

Abel - Lunchbox Friends

"We shouldn't have come here."

I looked up from my menu, at her, exhaling softly. "Is there any other restaurant you'd love us to try out? It's not too late for us to leave."

She kept her eyes down, on her lap, her lashes fluttering. "You don't just get it. I'm not hungry. That's what I meant."

"No," I shook my head. "You don't mean that. I know you, Lana. You're only being difficult," I paused, leaning in closer now. "I won't take no for an answer. You're eating and that's final."

Before she could protest further, I turned my head and signaled the waiter over. He was tall, with a looping frame and a smart uniform.

"Go on, now. Tell him what you'd like to have."

She glared daggers at me, but obeyed, her shoulders deflating. "Fine. I'll have the green herb risotto with goat cheese, please."

"Coming right up," the waiter beamed, giving me a curt bow before taking our menus and disappearing through the door behind the countertop.