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Property Of Vittore Martinelli

When she was 14, Dalia was sold to Matteo Martinelli, the former leader of the largest Italian mafia. Flash forward with his son, Vittore Martinelli as the new leader, Dalia is given to him as a birthday present after years in spent in the "safe house". Dalia struggles to fulfill a promise she made and get her old self back as Vittore tries not to fall for the black beauty. Will they go through all the lies, jealousy, betrayal, envy, lust and murder together all in the name of love? Because at the end of it all, she is still Property Of Vittore Martinelli. * * * "Lift your hand," I said looking at how he held onto his bicep with a tight grip. "Let me take a look at the bullet wound." "No tesoro. I can do this myself," Vittore grumbled and I gave him incredulous look. "Don't start that bullshit with me Vittore. Remove your arm and let me help you or..." I trailed off, not able to say more. I was still in shock but I could do this. "Just... just let me help." "No." I glared at Vittore. "Why are you being so damn egotistic?! Let me help you! Do you know what it was like to find you like... and to..." I couldn't even get all the words out. "Let me help you. Please." Begging wasn't something I'd ever do but I just needed him to let me help him. "No-" "Why?!" I suddenly exploded. "Why won't you just let me help you?!" "Because I don't know how to handle it ok?!" Vittore suddenly exploded, his dark eyes glaring at me. "I don't know how to handle these... feelings. Fuck tesoro you drive me crazy! Don't you see that? You make me question everything I've ever known and... I can't..." I watched Vittore as his expression turned determined. "Fuck it." He leaned forward and pressed his lips on mine. * * *

Melissa · สมัยใหม่
Not enough ratings
85 Chs

46

"And who the fuck might you be?" I asked looking at the guy who was sitting all too comfortably in my couch.

That's right. I claimed it even though this is Vittore's penthouse.

"Just chilling love," the imposter answered and that's when I noticed the British tilt in his voice. He even had the audacity to wink one of his deep brown eyes at me. My eyes roamed over how his feet were placed on the coffee table and I scoffed.

"Name?" I asked and the guy grinned.

"King," he simply stated and I still kept my eye on him. His skin was a brown, much much lighter than mine, probably mixed and he had curly hair at the top of his head that was shaved at his sides.

My glaring was immediately put to a halt when a hand landed on my arm and pulled me towards the staircase. It didn't take rocket science to know it was Vittore and once we were up at the top level and out of King's view, he pushed me to the wall and got all up in my personal space.