The muffled music from the golden French era buzzed in Frantino mansion, the romantic melody sharply contrasting the stretched atmosphere an hour ago. Since the guests did not belong too far from mafia, they were fairly accustomed to such happenings. It had taken hardly fifteen minutes for the guests to move on from their don punching the blood out of his father in law. Even though the hushed whispers spread like fire, no one pellucidly knew what the man had said to deserve Don's beating. Whatever it was, they had overlooked the incident for now, postponing the gossip sessions to the next meetings. Now that the room bustled with music, many seized their partners, making a room in the center of the hall to softly sway. The chandelier above completed the beautiful frame for couples.Tara watched the love birds from her table, chewing on her crunchy salted Papad, pretending to enjoy when she could all but think about Donavan, the flash of possessiveness in his forest green eyes. The a

Tara did not know how she had managed to stretch her cheeks into an acceptable smile. Her face hurt as she politely bid goodbyes to their unusually joyful guests. Regardless of how the night had turned out for Tara and Donavan, French had had the blast, the night had just become brighter and brighter with music and drinks. It wasn't until midnight that everyone had realised it was time to call it a night. Tara had retracted herself from the crowd far earlier, sitting in the corner watching the blur world from wine glass as it moved in a rhythm, taunting her tumult within. Withdrawn from a reality she went into trance, revisiting her seemingly careless actions that still and all had felt necessary at the time. Even when she knew he wouldn't harm her, the world she was born and brought up in, her actions had aligned with punishments far cruel, worse than death ever could be.In the realest moment she felt grateful for having Donavan, and more importantly so, his endless love, it had

"You should go back to Italy"He declared, mirroring her empty eyes, barring himself from feeling anything.He noticed as her brows met in distress, unsettled that he suggested something so obscene as a solution. Probably it was the thought of being alone, the habit of being around him, but whatever it stemmed from, it was too late. He had already made a decision."No" her voice dropped into desperation, contrasting her strength before.He knew she had to go. Her presence was becoming unbearable. She had sported ruthless games in his wretched heart, playing with his mind like a board game. He had become detached from his usual focused self, leaning more into the illusive world revolving around her. He realised while he was busy trying to being everything for her, she was never willing to be his in the first place.He gave a sigh out in exhaustion, reminiscing his foolishness that had been all for nothing, his emotions rendering merely dross of ruined heart.He started to turn back to

The images of his vigorous movements reflected in the endless mirrors around, reminding her just how they looked under their thick skin, raw and real, reveling and yet severely hurt. It was all but a fleeting thought before she let herself wallow in the pool of her own voices, her own pain. She jostled back to reality only when his raspy deep voice whispered in her ear, letting the dread sink,"Not very quiet now are we?"For a brief moment, she cared and then, she couldn't, not when he was so deep inside her that she felt him more than she felt herself. In response, she all but inhaled, simply forgetting that he said anything before focusing on the orgasm that approached dangerously faster.From learning her body so deliberately, when he felt her pussy tightly clenching around him he understood what it meant, stilling instantly, remaining embedded deep within her,"Not so fast" he whispered before flipping her yet again, coming face to face with the woman of his dreams, vixen of his

She knew something was wrong and that he didn't want to share it. Not that he ever did, but in the corner of her heart she wanted to know what bothered him, to find a way to soothe it. It was astounding that her nerves crawled to calm him just anytime he was distressed, different from his normal arrogant demeanor intended to nothing but irritate her. She would be unusually at peace at his bawdy remarks and dirty comments, but when he did not make it, turning distant and quiet, she would immediately tick into agitation, wondering what made him perturbed. Her growing feelings for him was an absurd turn of events. She never wanted it to happen. At the end of the day, no matter what he did for her, he still lived as a hideous criminal, heartless murderer and a ruthless sex trafficker, all the things she could never condemn. If she would have been in the position of telling him to stop his atrocities, she knew, she would have. She'd gone to the extents of excruciating efforts to make h