Bulletproof Heart Finally Breaks

I fell for Don Lorenzo Moretti the second I saw him. Hard.

As a mafia princess, I wasn't supposed to chase anyone. But for him, I swallowed my pride and made him my mission.

A year later, he finally had me, pinning me to the bed as he moved inside me.

His eyes were pure fire, and in that mo ment, they saw only me.

For ten years, we were electric. We fucked in five-star hotels all over the world. We just fit.

I was his lucky charm at the poker table.

I took shots for him until I bled from my stomach.

I even took a bullet for him.

Then came our engagement party. Lorenzo left me standing there alone. Said something "came up."

I went back to our apartment, only to find him kissing my stepsister, Juliana.

That’s when I knew. He had always loved her. I was just a stand-in.

He tried to explain, words tumbling out in a panicked rush, promising a bigger, better party to make up for it.

A laugh, cold and hollow, died in my throat. I turned my back on him, pulled out my phone, and called my mother in Sicily.

"I'll marry into the Romano family."

A week. An entire week without a word. Then tonight, he showed up at my door, reeking of whiskey.

"Bella." His voice was a low, rough growl. His eyes devoured me.

I sat up in bed. "Lorenzo? What are you..."

He didn't answer. He just launched himself at me.

He kissed me with a desperate hunger, like he was trying to devour me, to erase the last week from existence.

"Don't..." I tried to push him away, but my voice was a whisper.

His hands tore at my nightgown.

I should have clawed his eyes out. Demanded to know why he only craved me when he was drowning in whiskey.

But when his lips found my neck, when he slid inside me with the same perfect fit we’d shared for a decade...

When that familiar fire swept through me, all my resolve turned to ash.

Maybe... maybe he regrets it.

Maybe he finally realized what he was losing.

I closed my eyes and let him pull me into that familiar, dizzying spiral.

Every thrust was a frantic, punishing claim.

"Lorenzo..." I breathed his name against his ear.

He didn't answer. He just fucked me harder, like he was trying to brand himself back onto my soul.

It went on for a long time. So long, I thought time had stopped.

When it was over, I lay limp in his arms. His heart hammered against my chest, a frantic drumbeat that finally, finally slowed.

Then, a phone buzzed.

Lorenzo’s body went rigid.

He reached for the phone on the nightstand. The moment he saw the name on the screen, all the softness vanished.

"Jules," he answered, his voice instantly gentle, careful.

My blood ran cold.

Her again. My stepsister.

"Baby, what's wrong? ...Don't cry, I'm listening...