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 4
Chapter Three
*~•*•~*•~*
Elizabeth
*~•*•~*~•*
When I finally opened the door, Mother Roselyn stood at the other end, fuming with rage.
"Mother-" I didn't even finish because she cut me off mid-speech.
"Where have you been? I've been calling you for a while now, and don't tell me you didn't hear me screaming your name like I've lost my mind."
I couldn't tell her the truth. She wouldn't believe me. Worse still, the mister was undressed and on my bed. There were so many theories that can be cooked up and I'm very sure none of them would end up in my favour.
"Elizabeth!" she yelled out, trying to look into my room but I blocked her view. She can't look inside not while he's still on my bed.
"Yes, Ma," I answered too quickly, my attention diverted. I hoped she didn't notice that I was shaking.
"Didn't you hear my question? Or have you suddenly gone deaf?"
"I did... I was sleeping. I didn't hear when you called earlier, I'm sorry."
She looked at me like I was another mystery she was trying to uncover.
"You've become way too sneaky these days," she uttered, refusing to leave.
"I'm not... I've been in my room the whole time," I said, choosing my words wisely. Mother Roselyn was always prune to getting angry easily. One word, one slip up and she would be yelling over the place, and threatening me with exorcisms.
"I can never know with you... you know," she murmured. "Is Leah here with you?"
Leah was one of the children who I had grown attached with since my stay at the convent. Sometimes I fed them, sometimes they came to my room to hear bedtime stories, they also sneaked into my room at night when they got too scared of the rain and most of the time, I'm the one who braids Leah's hair so it's expected that when any of the children who am fond of, especially Leah gets missing, my room is always the first prime suspect.
"No, she's not. I slept early today," I lied smoothly.
Another confession to make.
"Your eyes does not look like you've been sleeping at all," she fired back, hinting that she did not believe me at all.
"My eyes?" I repeated, rubbing at them to dissuade whatever doubting thoughts she was having. "You're mistaken ma. I've been asleep for hours now. Remember that's why I didn't hear you earlier."
She gave me a once over look, trying to look inside my room at some point, but I still didn't let her.
Oh, dear Lord, wasn't she going to leave soon?
Apparently not.
"Come with me then. We'll go find her together."
I almost heaved a sigh of relief when she said that, but I didn't because if I did, she'll get the hint that I'm hiding something. And she would probe further, and I know fully well that the outcome wouldn't be good at all.
"Okay," I responded, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind me.
Her eyes darted from me to my door. I know she wants to say something else, particularly about why I'm being so uptight about my room, but I was glad that she didn't.
We took the stairs, heading downstairs. We both froze when someone screamed loudly,
"MOTHER ROSELYN! OH MY, MOTHER ROSELYN!"
The voice was persistent, like how someone who saw a ghost would scream. Panic clawed at my chest.
I didn't know why, but I was panicking real good.
Mother Roselyn stilled for a bit, trying to detect where the voice was coming from. She only stayed still for a few seconds before she began running down the stairs faster than someone her age should, and I followed suit.
When we got to the exit leading us outside, Sister Maria stood there. Tears rolled down her cheeks, she looked extremely terrified.
"Mother... I think... you should come see this," she managed to utter, the words coming up as gibberish.
"What's going on?" Mother Roselyn asked, following Maria as she led us to whatever had terrified her that much. Maria took us out of the convent, heading towards the cathedral.
It was at that moment my heart began to thump loudly against my chest.
What if she saw the pool of blood? Was that what terrified her?
Would they conduct a search party to check who the blood belonged too?
But to my utmost surprise she wasn't leading us into the cathedral. No, not at all. Instead, she was taking us to the far end of the cathedral, specifically to one of the exit doors, the one I didn't follow when I helped the bleeding man out.
After what seemed like a minute of following Maria, she finally stopped.
Mother Roselyn was the first to scream. Her loud cry erupting into the darkness. I stood there, horrified... frozen for a while until I joined in the screaming.
I couldn't help myself, because on the floor was Father Philip lying in his own pool of blood... out cold and dead.
Holy Mary!
Was that a slash on his neck? I looked closely and it was. There was also an outpour of blood gushing out from his throat.
Oh my God. I placed one hand to my chest and the other over my mouth.
I couldn't breathe... I needed air.
I need air.
Someone killed Father Philips. Right here in the cathedral.
And I think I know who that is.
Oh, Father Lord, I've done something really, really bad. I saved someone I shouldn't have.
"What happened?" Mother Roselyn asked, visibly shaking. "How did he... how did you..."
"You asked that I look for Leah, and that was what I was doing until I stepped outside and I saw someone lying on the floor." Her voice cracked, and she gripped her dress, trying to put herself together. "At first, I thought I wasn't seeing properly because no one is supposed to be out at this hour, but my curiousity had the best of me. And when I came close, I realized..."
She didn't finish, didn't have to because we knew what words would come next.
I hadn't said anything since we got to the spot and I hoped they wouldn't notice.
"What do we do?" Maria asked, her gaze refusing to leave the body.
"We'll have to tell the other priests, we can't handle this ourselves. Come on." Mother Roselyn answered, already turning to leave.
I managed to say the words out, "And me?"
"Go back to the convent and look for Leah." she said, not sparing me another glance.
I nodded too quickly, running back. Not once did I turn back, because I was too engulfed in fear.
One thought stayed on my mind as I ran all the way back to my room -the killer was still in my room.
And I was an accomplice... an accomplice to murder.
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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.