Sorry for the late update. Enjoy! XOXO
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Bianca Costello spoke with a hint of sadness, a faint smile touching her lips as she said, "Just look at all these people..." She glanced at Allegra, who was teary-eyed, and continued, "You know what she used to say, right?"Allegra sniffled and gave a slight shake of her head. "What did she say?""She used to confide in me," Bianca began, her voice heavy with emotion, "She'd tell me, 'I don't want to die alone, Bianca, but sometimes it feels like you're the only one who will be at my funeral.' She genuinely believed she didn't have people who cared about her enough to be there when she was gone. I'll never forget the day she cried on my shoulder, fearing she'd die alone."Tears welled up in Allegra's eyes as the weight of Claire's words sank in. "Bianca, we should have been there for her more. We should have shown her how much she meant to us."Bianca cried even more, "I'm such a terrible fucking best friend. I shouldn't have left her alone like this. She acts to
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was dimly lit but it was seriously fancy. I mean, it was like something out of a movie or a rich person's I*******m feed. Panic clawed at my chest as I tried to piece together the puzzle of where I was. This wasn't my home. Am I in heaven? I made it, Mom and Dad... I turned my head to the side, wincing as a sharp pain shot through me. My body ached, and I could feel the heaviness of blankets covering me. The details of the room came into focus—the wallpaper was all swanky, with deep reds and golds, and the lighting came from these fancy chandeliers that made everything look like a mood. This was no hospital or heaven; it was someone's home.My memory was a jumbled mess. The last thing I could recall was the desperate need for escape. The sting of a needle, the familiar rush of heroin, and the surge of cocaine snorted through a rolled-up bill. A deadly cocktail I thought would silence
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Four days...It's been four long days since I was unceremoniously transported to this unfamiliar territory known as Chicago. Allegra, with her kindness and a baby bump to boot, keeps urging me to step out of this room, but the overwhelming embarrassment holds me back. I never asked for any of this, and I'm lost in a sea of strangers.But the most unnerving aspect of this situation is the presence of Vincenzo Capone. I'm well aware of his authority and his reputation here in Chicago. In New York, I had a sense of power and Scott to back me up, but here, in Capone's domain, he reigns supreme. He's the untouchable boss, and my vulnerability in this foreign territory is fucking real. In his world, he could pull the strings as he pleased, and no one would so much as flinch.I want to be the brave, gutsy Claire, ready to face whatever curveball life throws at me. I want to jump out there. But anxiety? It's like this relentless bully that's got me cornered. I've spent the
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My heart pounded in my chest as I paced back and forth in the dimly lit room. It was almost two in the morning and the minutes felt like hours, and I dreaded the moment when Vincenzo would show up. I didn't know what he wanted, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant.I glanced nervously at the door, my trembling fingers reaching out to turn the lock. With shaky hands, I pushed the bolt into place, the faint click of the lock echoing in the quiet room. I'm usually not the nervous, fidgety type, but the overdose and the medication have ramped up my anxiety, turning me into a jittery, twitching wreck.I needed something more to feel safe. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything to barricade the door. My gaze landed on the heavy dresser pushed against the wall. It was the only piece of furniture that could possibly block the door.Summoning all my strength, I moved toward the dresser. It was difficult to maneuver on my own, but fear fueled my effort
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"You're not ready yet, Claire," he murmured, his eyes dark and focused on mine. "But when you are, you'll come to me willingly."I sat there, just watching him, feeling like a fish out of water, trying to grapple with the overwhelming mix of emotions churning inside me. Fear gripped me like a vise, coiling around my every thought and squeezing tight. All this time, I had been right. He's into me, plain and simple."You have feelings for me," I whispered."Feelings?" His eyes flickered with something more complex. "It's not that simple."I forcefully got off the couch, taking a few steps away from him. My thoughts were all over the place, a crazy mix of fear and confusion. My body felt like it was burning up, and I couldn't make sense of his words. I had never been in such a bizarre situation, and it left me completely disoriented.He got up as well, making me take a step back, "What if... What if I don't want to be with you," I stammered, as he casually slipped his
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Morning rituals – a symphony of punches echoing through my home gym. The home gym was lit just enough to give it that gritty, underground feel. Sunlight struggled through the blinds, casting long shadows on the equipment. I tossed my gloves on a bench, worn and cracked from too many showdowns, and started wrapping tape around my fingers.The punching bag hung there, like an old friend waiting to get pummeled.Bare-knuckled, fists taped, I unleashed fury on the punching bag. Each blow, a calculated dance of power and control. Muscles strained, body dripping sweat. Each punch sent it swinging, and the sound of knuckles meeting leather reverberated through the room. The air was thick with the musky scent of sweat and determination.No fancy workout gear – just me in black boxer shorts, throwing punches like I was settling a score. The morning light played off the sweat rolling down my face, and the whole place felt alive with the energy of a good, hard fight.The t
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅╭────────────────────╮Idiot: Keep drooling over Mancini, and I'll make sure he's a distant memory once I'm done with you. Don't test my patience, princess, unless, you want me to bend you other thistable...╰────────────────────╯While his entire family shared the breakfast table with us, that's the message he decided to shoot my way.Glancing at Vincenzo, I caught a glint in his eyes – a mix of arrogance and amusement. Is this a game to him? Testing my limits or merely a twisted form of flirting? Is that what he calls flirting? Is this his idea of charm?Well, someone needs to give him a crash course in flirting – it's like watching a dinosaur attempt salsa.It was odd how innocent he acted in front of his family. I'm sure he never shows his real face to his Aunt Alessia. After finishing up the breakfast, everyone dispersed. Vincenzo got a call and he left home almost immediately, he looked a little upset and my heartbeat quickened, I hope everything was
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅The room was hushed, with only the soft shuffling of cards breaking the silence. We sat opposite each other, our eyes meeting in a playful challenge. The table between us held an assortment of chips and a deck of cards. The initial cards were dealt, and I glimpsed at my hand—two eights, a decent beginning. Vincenzo, his eyes a mix of confidence and darkness, kept his cards close to his chest.The first community card unveiled itself, adding a nine to the mix. Vincenzo's nonchalant demeanor didn't give away much, but I sensed a subtle tension.The second community card, a seven, appeared, and his expression remained unreadable. I weighed the odds and decided to raise the stakes. As the final card, a six, completed the tableau, his eyes flickered with something akin to satisfaction. We revealed our hands—my pair of eights versus Vincenzo's straight. I looked at him and he stared back at me with an annoying, smug smile and darkness-riddled eyes, "Strip," he ordered.