She's too young. Jailbait young.
Her innocence and purity don't belong in my world.
I killed her father.
None of it matters. Angelina Baldi is the bane of my existence and my absolute obsession.
She belongs to me. She's safe only with me.
But her wedding bells are ringing, and I'm not the man waiting at the altar.
I've killed for her before. I'd do it again.
Except that her groom is the only man on earth I can't kill.
My own blood.
The Italian Obsession is a stalker forbidden obsessive jealous possessive DARK DARK DISTURBING Mafia romance Standalone. Do NOT read if you're not a fan of dark romance.
All the books in The Italians series can be read in any order.
One-Click now. Because you have to.
over half a million pages read in 10 days. Top 2-3k in whole amazon. Top 100 in all its categories.
When I straightened my back, something warm and soft fell on the side of my neck.
A breath.
A gasp fled my throat, and I froze for what seemed like an eternity.
“Don’t move,” he barely whispered. His low voice was strained and hard. His breath kept falling hot on my skin.
Everything in me shuddered, and all the air escaped my lungs. A Horrible wave of fear crippled my mind, and the ridiculous thoughts about him not hurting me shattered with his command. I should try to run. I should scream. I should do anything other than just stand there and wait for his next move. Whatever that might be.
But I obeyed him. I didn’t move. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My limbs had gone cold, unmoving just like they were at the auditorium when he looked at me.
“A-are yo-u…gonna…?” I couldn’t finish, tears choking me.
“Am I gonna what?” he asked with the same low, hard voice. So deep and masculine and terrifying.
Kill me? Rape me? Kidnap me? All three? I didn’t say anything so I wouldn’t put ideas in his head. Besides, I was hiccupping through the tears I could barely breathe, let alone speak. I closed my eyes, pretending this was a bad dream like I always did.
“Shhhh.” His breath came closer, sending a stronger shiver through me. Then I felt something pointy and scruffy on my shoulder. A bearded chin? His bearded chin? The confirmation came as the scruffy hair pressed to the side of my neck. Lightly, gently.
Suddenly, I was no longer cold. I was burning hot. The heat coming from his body seeped through my pores with his simplest touch. Oh my God, he was touching me.
And I was letting him.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Italian
|
Translation in progress.
Translated by Mattia Castorino
|
|
Spanish
|
Translation in progress.
Translated by Christian Cordova
|
