Poisoned Passion: Burn From My Love

At the annual Mafia Summit, my childhood sweetheart, Salvatore Russo, falls victim to an aphrodisiac slipped to him by a beautiful spy from a rival family.

And I, the cherished daughter of the most feared Don in the west, willingly become his antidote.

That night, he drives me to the edge of breathless surrender, again and again.

"Principessa, what did I ever do to deserve your favor?" he mutters.

From that moment on, his love consumes me whole, making me forget what loneliness ever felt like.

But in the third year of our marriage, someone sent me a private video of a man and a woman. It's from Rosa Conti, the same woman who once drugged Salvatore.

In the video, Salvatore's voice is thick with desire. "Darling, of course I remember. The one who should've been in my bed that night was you."

Then, Rosa sends me another voice message, taunting, "Arianna Moretti, for three years, he's been dulling your claws, turning you into something soft and spoiled. Everything he did was just to bring me back."

However, she doesn't know that when I love Salvatore, I don't mind surrendering to him. And when I no longer love him, he'll face my fiercest vengeance.

Three years into my marriage to Salvatore Russo, I received a private video. It was sent by Rosa Conti, the same spy who had drugged him three years ago.

At that moment, the video replayed. I stared at the two bodies entwined on screen, biting my lip until I tasted blood.

For the past three years, Salvatore had taken good care of Rosa. The scars she had borne as punishment for betrayal had been smoothed away by surgery, and the deepest lash on her back had been transformed into the stem of a red rose.

On the screen, Salvatore hovered over her, lowering his head to kiss the petals.

"Rosa," he murmured. "I've thought about you every second of every day for the past three years."

Every second of every day, huh? Funny, because just yesterday, he had held me in his arms, our bodies tangled beneath the sheets.

On the nightstand beside the bed sat our wedding photo. Salvatore took it everywhere he went, saying it was his lucky charm.

Now, the same picture was spattered with white stains.

My chest clenched in pain, but I forced myself to keep watching. I wanted to see just how long he could keep up the act.

When it ended, Salvatore rose and headed for the shower.

A beat later, Rosa turned to the camera, a triumphant smile curving her lips.

"So, Arianna, do you remember when you had me whipped 81 times in your family's dungeon? Call this payback. It hurts, doesn't it? Just wait. This is only the beginning."

With that, she winced and gasped in pain. Salvatore immediately rushed out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

Then, I watched as those strong arms wrapped around another woman.

The video cut off abruptly.