Luciano's Forbidden Desire
She's sin wrapped in a nun habit.
He is the devil who makes her want to confess.
Luciano Moretti, the mafia's most feared enforcer, kills without hesitation, prays to no god, and bleeds for the Cosa Nostra.
Sister Elizabeth has spent her life behind church walls, burying her desires under layers of penance and prayer. She is supposed to be untouchable-a quiet, secluded nun devoted to faith.
But when she finds him bleeding on the altar one night, their worlds collide in a sin neither heaven nor hell can cleanse.
He's meant to marry her sister to seal a deal between two mafia empires.
She's meant to keep her vows and distance.
But temptation has a cruel sense of humour...
Because he's the last man she should want.
She's the only woman he can't have.
But one touch, one look, and everything sacred begins to crumble.
Luciano does not seek salvation. Instead, he lures her into a dangerous path, one that includes everything she is meant to avoid, and everytime she whispers "forgive me, Father," her soul sinks deeper into him.
As bloodlines clash and loyalty turns to betrayal, Elizabeth learns that the war outside the chapel isn't the only one she must survive. Because Luciano's world is built on violence and secrets, one of which binds her fate to his in ways neither of them saw coming.
Desire clashes with devotion.
Duty turns to betrayal.
And when they're both drowning in a love so forbidden, not even God can save them.
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Chapter 3
Chapter Two
*~°*~°*~°*
Elizabeth
*~°*~°*~°*
Resting my hand against his chest, a feeling of relief washed over me when I discovered he was still breathing.
That counts for something, doesn't it?
When I made a move to undress him, I started feeling fidgety and nervous all over, and I know why.
I've never been this close to a man before. Never ever.
I'm twenty-three and still a virgin. And I'm bound to remain one till I take my last breath. So this feeling should be totally normal. Right?
"Lord, please help me," I muttered to myself before reaching out to undress him. Each button I opened revealed a perfectly sculptured chest and I had to force my eyes back to his face.
This man was incredibly good looking. That was one fact that I couldn't deny, no matter how many voices in my head screamed that I should.
I peeled off his blood-soaked shirt completely and really took my time to look at him. Swallowing, my eyes roamed all over him in fascination. His chest and biceps are all covered in tattoos. The man is literally ink and muscle. All of him. Not an ounce of fat anywhere.
Heat flushes across my cheeks when I realize what I'm doing, and I have to drag my eyes away from him and on the first aid kit.
No distractions, Liz.
"Mister bleeding man," I started off, half to him and half to myself as I bring out all the items I would be needing for this inexperienced surgery. "I've never done this before, okay? Mother Roselyn is usually the one in charge of this kind of stuff, then she appoints someone to work with her." I started cleaning him up to make things easier and smooth for me. "I've never been chosen before, because the last time I was close to a bleeding person, I ended up lying in the sick bed right next to the bleeding victim. Mother Roselyn was furious with me, she called me dramatic because I fainted at the sight of blood."
I looked at him when I was done cleaning to check for signs that he might be listening, but there wasn't. I'm only talking to myself.
Regardless, I spoke up again, "But I promise... I promise to do a better job on you."
Wrapping my hair into a bun, with my hands still shaking all the way, I managed to stitch and bandage him up in places where necessary. My eyes strayed to the clock hanging above my closet and I realized that I've been doing this for over an hour.
Nevertheless, I did it. The stitches might not be so perfect but I really did it. I saved someone's life today.
I'm almost at the verge of crying out joyful tears when I remember I'm stained in blood too. So slowly, I lift myself off from him and step away from the bed.
His chest is rising and falling and that was all the hope that I needed. A lock of hair escaped, resting over his eyebrow and the urge to tuck them back grew with each passing second that I stood there. Shaking myself off from whatever trance I was in, I dropped the first aid kit back in the closet and made my way to the bathroom.
I needed to wash off every sign that I was close to a man... so close to him that I took his shirt off, that I imagined things.
Now I've got so many things to say during confession period.
After I took one good look at him to make sure he's perfectly okay, I hurriedly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind me, locking it like there was any way the unconscious man could break in.
Slowly, I took off my clothes, dropping them into the laundry basket before stepping into the shower.
As each droplet of water trickled down my skin, I start scrubbing, washing every trace of blood on my skin, and every attempt to shut down thoughts about him failed miserably.
Because, I had a thousand questions.
How did he get wounded?
Who shot him?
Was he running from someone... or was he the one behind the chase?
Why did he end up in the cathedral?
If he wakes up, would he remember my face?
Goosebumps rise on my skin as the last thought settles on me and I realize that I don't know if I want him to remember me.
What if he wakes up and gets everything all juggled up?
What if he ends up thinking I'm behind whatever happened to him since I was the only one up at that hour?
No.
No.
No.
Could such a thing happen?
I've heard stories where the good guys end up being framed for something they didn't do. What if I end up in that situation?
I reach up and wipe the tear rolling down my cheeks.
I'm not a murderer, but who would believe me? Not when there's proof of blood on the altar, proof of an unconscious man in my bedroom.
I'm scared. I've never been this scared before even when Mama hits me.
I'm really scared and I have no idea what would happen when he eventually wakes up.
"Lord, I just wanted to help an injured man. Please, let this not come back to bite me," I pleaded to the Almighty, hoping he was listening... hoping I wasn't alone in this.
It took me a total of thirty minutes to be done in the shower and dressed in a plain white nightwear that stopped just right after my knee-the kind of nightwear Mother Roeslyn expected us all to wear. Taking a deep breath again-something I've done quite a lot since today, I reached for the door handle, pulled and let myself out of the bathroom.
I released the breath I didn't realize I had been holding when I see him splayed on my bed, eyes closed and no signs of blood anywhere on my sheets.
I don't know but some part of me expected him to be gone by the time I was out. Seeing him still lying down on my bed unconscious made my nerves calm down a little bit.
I'm not going to lie, I feel so tired and sleepy altogether but I can't lie on the same bed with him.
That would be me going against everything Mother Roselyn taught us, everything a nun was supposed to stand for. So instead of lying on the bed, I walked towards my reading table and sat on the chair-waiting.
Waiting for sleep to take over so when I wake up, I'ld realize that all these is only a dream.
But as I tried to shut my eyes, I caught on to something on the bed, something I didn't notice before when I sat so close to him earlier.
With curiousity poking at me, I walked towards him and then I got a better view. My chest tightened when I saw it...
A gun.
There was a gun underneath him, almost like it slipped out when he slumped on the bed, and I was too blind to notice it.
My heart raced faster than normal as my gaze remained fixed on the weapon in my room.
What sort of man was this?
Who did I just let into my room?
An assassin? A murderer?
"Oh, God..." I slapped a hand over my mouth, suppressing whatever sound trying to crawl its way out of my throat.
What if... what if he killed someone and was only paying for his sins?
What if I saved the wrong person?
I'm still pondering over the numerous thoughts making their way to my head when I hear a loud thud at the door.
My heart skipped a beat.
The knock came again after a few seconds.
"Elizabeth! Open up, now!"
Oh, my. It's Mother Roselyn.
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7.7
Bella arrived New York City with ambitions, goals and desperate hunger to escape poverty. Raised by her single poor mother along side beloved sister Emily, Bella believed the only way to succeed and save her family from the ruthless hands of poverty was education.
After countless denial and rejection letters, she finally gained admission into one of the most prestigious universities in the country. What she doesn't realize is that stepping foot into that campus would pull her into a dangerous world of obsession, wealth, and power She never knew existed.
Benson Vale is everything Bella despised, Arrogant, untouchable and born into privilege.
As the heir to a billionaire empire, Benson is being forced to get married in order to acquire his inheritance something he dreaded with passion, but Bella crashed into his life and his tightly controlled world starts to unravel.
Lurking in the background is Angella Browns, Benson's childhood friend and the campus self proclaimed queen bee. Obsessed and possessive Angella would do whatever it takes to keep Benson all to herself even if it meant destroying Bella's life to pieces.
When tragedy strikes and secrets begins to unfold, Bella and Bensons relationship are bounded together by a dangerous DEAL - one that could either save or destroy them both.
As danger draws closer Bella must not only fight for justice but also uncover the truth behind her sisters death and choose Whether love was meant to survive in a world filled with Wealth, Power, and betrayal.
It was never meant to be love until fate made them collide.
9.1
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
7.1
For ten years, I disguised myself as my dead twin brother, fighting bloody mob wars to build the Falcone family's bootlegging empire.
When the war ended, I thought I could finally take off the men's suits and be Anya again.
Instead, my parents stole my victories to secure my father's power, demanding I disappear forever.
When I tried to expose the truth, my family dragged me into a soundproof basement.
My younger brother forced a metal funnel past my teeth and poured corrosive chemicals down my throat, dissolving my vocal cords into a blistered ruin.
They chained me to a freezing pier, whipped me bloody, and let the men I used to lead spit on me as a jealous traitor.
Then, under the guise of a family reconciliation dinner, my mother drugged my wine.
While I lay paralyzed but fully conscious on my bed, my brother took heavy iron pliers and crushed all ten of my fingers, bone by bone.
They wanted to ensure I could never hold a gun or write the truth again.
I had slaughtered for them, bled for them, and craved only their love.
In return, they pulverized my body and painted me as a hysterical madwoman just to keep the crown I had won for them.
The foolish girl who wanted a family died in that agonizing pain, leaving behind only a ghost.
Dragging my mangled, bandaged body into the rival Romano family's charity gala, I collapsed at the feet of their ruthless matriarch.
"I invoke the sacred code," I rasped through my chemically burned throat. "I demand a Vendetta."
8.7
I died in a mangled wreck of metal and fire, abandoned by the man I thought was my soulmate. But instead of the void, I woke up pinned against a cold marble wall, staring into the turbulent, storm-gray eyes of Damian Vincent.
This was the night I destroyed my life. In my past world, I spat in Damian's face and ran into the arms of Eddie, a parasitic loser who was secretly plotting with my cousin Jill to strip me of my inheritance.
My "escape" turned into a slow-motion suicide. My brother Donavan died in a horrific car crash while racing to save me from another one of my messes. Damian, consumed by a toxic mix of grief and vengeance, crushed the Nelson family empire until my father was a broken man. I spent years as a drugged-up social pariah, finally dying alone while the people I trusted laughed at my funeral.
The most bitter realization didn't hit me until the end. The "controlling monster" I spent years fighting was the only person who ever truly protected me. I had traded a man who would burn the world for me for a man who would burn me for the world.
Opening my eyes three years in the past, I find myself back at the airport, the rain lashing against the windows. My brother is pleading with me to run, and Damian is standing there, braced for the slap he thinks is coming.
But I don't strike him. I press my palm to his burning cheek and give him the only piece of my soul he couldn't buy.
"I'm not going anywhere, Dami. Keep this as my collateral."
The game has changed. This time, I'm not the victim-I'm the one holding the match.
7.2
I was dying in a rusted warehouse, paralyzed in a wheelchair while the man I loved and my own stepsister watched with smiles on their faces. The air smelled of old oil and damp concrete, and my vision was fading into a milky haze.
Dillon, the man I’d sacrificed everything for, smoothed his custom suit and pulled out a syringe filled with a clear, lethal neurotoxin. Beside him, my stepsister Bianca toyed with my mother’s sapphire ring—the one they’d just pried off my hand while I was too weak to even make a fist.
She leaned in and whispered that my father’s trust fund was already offshore and that they’d sent my husband, Kade, to the wrong coordinates to ensure he’d only find my corpse. Dillon slid the needle into my vein with the chilling efficiency of a man who had done this before.
"This will stop your heart in thirty seconds," he said, sounding as bored as if he were explaining a tax form. Ice flooded my chest, and my lungs seized, fighting for oxygen that wasn't there. As the warehouse lights blurred into white streaks, an explosion echoed in the distance. Kade had come for me, but he was too late.
I died staring at the ceiling, my heart giving one last violent kick of pure, unadulterated hatred. I had been such a fool, believing Dillon’s lies and running away from the only man who actually cared for me. I died with a single thought: if I ever get another chance, I will drag you both to hell with me.
Then, there was nothing. And then, there was air.
I sat up gasping, my silk pajamas drenched in cold sweat. The rusted beams were gone, replaced by a vaulted ceiling and the glittering Manhattan skyline. I grabbed the digital clock on the nightstand—it was five years ago, the exact night I first tried to run away with Dillon.
The bedroom door slammed against the wall, and Kade Mullen stood in the doorway, looking dangerous, furious, and very much alive. I looked at my shaking hands, then at the man I had once hated. This time, I wasn't going to run. I was going to make sure Dillon and Bianca lost everything.
8.4
Juliette was an agriculture major desperately trying to get top-tier CRISPR potato data from Adrian Castillo, the untouchable physics genius and wealthy heir.
But to get it, she was dragged to a high-end shooting club, where Adrian suddenly lost all his legendary motor skills, shooting zeroes and acting like a helpless nerd.
His clumsy act made Juliette a target. Blair, a wealthy heiress, cornered her, mocking her mud-stained cargo pants and calling her a pathetic dirt-girl.
"If you lose, you leave this club and never speak to Adrian again."
Blair challenged her to a professional air pistol match. The crowd of elites laughed, waiting for the farm girl to humiliate herself.
Even worse, Adrian just stood behind her, pretending to be terrified of Blair and whispering that his sinuses would swell shut if Juliette didn't save him.
The mockery and judgment felt suffocating. Everyone thought she was just a desperate fangirl who didn't even know how to hold a gun.
But they didn't know the dark trauma she had buried years ago. And she didn't understand why Adrian, a man who could supposedly shoot a coin at eight hundred meters in a sandstorm, was deliberately playing weak to push her to the firing line. What was his sick endgame?
To secure her experimental fertilizer, Juliette finally stopped hiding.
She picked up the competition pistol, locked her perfect stance, and fired ten flawless shots.
108.5. Total, undeniable annihilation.