I stifle a yawn, brushing a hand over my weary face as I stretch my aching limbs. Slowly rising to an upright position, the sound of chains rubbing together fills the small, elegant room. Clink, Clink, Clink… I shake my hand that is cuffed to the bedpost above my head. Turning my body in an awkward position, I knock harshly on the wall three times with my free hand. I pause. And then I knock another three times, but quicker and louder this time around. The door to the room flies open seconds later. And the early morning sun strikes me like a beam of light as it shines through the large window on the opposite side of my room—instantly blinding me. Riccardo had me brought to this room yesterday after I spent the entire night and all yesterday in the abandoned wine cellar. I believe Don Valentino uses the cellar for his enemies. Specifically, when his business deals turn gnarly. After I had called him an arse hole, Don Valentino crushed his lips against mine, stealing my breath

My eyes snap open.Dread seeps from my pores.Clawing at my neck, I struggle to fill my lungs with air. I sit up and ultimately realise that I'm no longer in the same room. I'm in another room that's been dimmed of its natural light as the large maroon curtains have been pulled shut. I concentrate on trying to elevate my breathing. In through the nose and out through the mouth.What kind of screwed-up dream was that? I think to myself, feeling like I’m going to be sick.I brush my hand over my sweat-coated face and groan. My body aches. My muscles are screaming in agony as if I've just completed a marathon. Which, is ironic. Because I've never run a day in my life. Well, not by choice anyway.I persist in the act of blinking. I flutter my lashes in a butterfly effect, basking in the first rays of daylight. Through the slender opening of the lavish drapes, a beam of radiant light filters in, casting a luminous white glow upon the foot of the expansive bed where I presently occupy.

“Oh, my god, Ivy…” Lowering her gaze to the ground, she whispers, placing a hand over her heart. “I am. I'm so sorry.” Her voice is raw and brimming with unsaid emotion.If I had a dollar for the number of times someone offered me their sympathy, I’d be living in a penthouse in the CBD.“Don’t be, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like you were there.” I pick up the glass of water that remains on the bedside table. “It happened eleven years ago. It’s a distant recollection stuck in the back of my head, infusing itself with the rest of the bad memories I have.” I say as I toss the rest of the water back in one gulp. An awkward silence lingers between us. It’s the kind of silence that I expect every time I open up about my past. It leaves people speechless and occasionally, it’s the only kind of response I need.Because fuck trying to dive deep into my traumatised past, digging through the skeletons hidden in my closet. I knew from the moment that the tip of my sculpture knif

ALESSANDRO, AKA DON VALENTINO: I bask in the cool water as it rains upon us. Ivys’ body temperature has skyrocketed, causing her skin to burn with fever and act out deliriously. “Please, stop… it hurts, it hurts…” She whimpers, clawing at my suit jacket fiercely. 'What the fuck is wrong with me?' I dare to question my own sanity. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't feel compelled to hold her tightly under the cool shower to bring her fever down. She is the enemy. She has come to steal the only piece left of my brother, Savannah. If she were anyone else, she would already be buried six feet under, along with the rest of her bloodline. But she’s also vulnerable, and it strikes the beast within me every time I steal a glance at her. She looks so much like Rose, and it fucking hurts. Fate can be so cruel, and this would have to be her cruellest test for me. Like it wasn't bad enough that she made me sit back and watch my brother, Roman, marry the girl I loved with everythi

I look down at our joining hands, running the pad of my thumb across my father's knuckles, wondering how we ended up here.His hands are cold, fragile, and calloused. He has the hands of a man who has carried the weight of the world on his back for too long. The hands of a man who has worked his entire life to feed his family the best that he can.Tears stain my cheeks as I raise our joined hands and press a light kiss on the inside of his palm. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Dad.” I whimper, rubbing the side of my cheek against his hand, needing to feel his touch.When I entered my fathers’ room, I didn’t know what to expect. I was hoping that he would be awake, sitting up in his bed and nutting off at the nurses to allow him to return home.Instead, I walked in to see him hooked up to a life support machine in a dimly lit room. I almost collapsed to my knees with grief. My father is the only family I have had by my side since my mothers’ passing.He did his best to raise me