onlyalonelywriter

[onlyalonelywriter]

i don't know if this is the right place to write this but i need to clear my head about some current events in my life. basically soon i’m gonna take my teachers exam and i’m so nervous and scared at the same time because being an english teacher isn’t really my dream. but i don’t have another option for a moment and i’m so stressed and confused at the same time about my future career. and tomorrow i have the practical exam basically a class inspection at a highs school in my town and my brain can’t stop thinking about those hurtful words that my ex best friend told me two years ago, “you’re not good enough for this”. i don’t even know if i can make it right even if the inspection is quite simple to do. but again i’m scared of failure and to disappoint myself and my grandmother who always support me in everything.

[onlyalonelywriter]

you are so fucking lucky you’re private because i would rip you into two. chan doesn’t owe you shit bitch

idc i will name drop anyone acting like a spoiled brat and i will name drop people being toxic. they deserve to be outed when they act like this idgaf

selfish and entitled. they made an effort to come to latin america when most kpop groups don’t even go there and yall are complaining about a bubble message. did yall forget korea has been having WILDFIRES? even then, hes allowed to check up on stays that he’s not performing for. oh my god grow the fuck up. i cannot believe people are so selfish.

call me toxic and mean all you want but i don’t fucking play when it comes to chris. he saved me and i will defend him always.

[onlyalonelywriter]

kiss

I remember our first kiss

and the way our lips collide.

I remember how it feels

to be kissed

like this.

I remember how you touch my cheeks

when you look me in the eyes.

I remember how you touch my lips

and the way they curled up

on a smile.

I remember the butterflies I felt

when you cover my skin in kisses.

and the way my hear skipped a bit

when you asked me:

"May I kiss you again?"

if this is the type of kiss

that poets write about,

then I want a millions,

and I need you to give me

all of them.

[onlyalonelywriter]

I was just a child when I fell in love with you. I don't know if you ever loved me, or if I meant anything in your life.

But you meant too much to me.

You were also my love.

And longing.

And suffering.

And now you have become my memory.

And I have matured. I have matured by loving you, only to learn now that it was all just in my mind. That I never had you. That you never belonged to me.

But if in another life you reappear on my path, know that you meant something to me. And if you wonder, no, I have not forgotten you.

I have only learned that infinity was never about us.

That you were never mine.

And I was never yours either.

[onlyalonelywriter]

!!! TW list

CHAPTER 4

VICTOR

The press is buzzing with photos of Isabela and me from last night, and no matter how hard I try to hide the anger I’m feeling right now, I can’t seem to stay calm.

I shouldn’t have picked Isabela up from that club. Fuck, I shouldn’t have even touched her!

I slam my planner down on the desk, trying to calm my heart rate. I glance out at the vast expanse of New York City from my office window, hoping the landscape outside will calm me down.

But it doesn’t.

My phone vibrates on my desk, and I bet it’s Sartori calling me right now. My suspicion is confirmed when the caller finally speaks.

"When I warned you not to touch my daughter, I didn't think you were such an idiot as to carry her in your arms. Are you aware of the mess you've created?"

"I think the one who should be aware right now is you, Sartori. Because you've just entered on an extremely dangerous territory."

"Are you threatening me in any way, kid?"

"Not at all, old man. Not at all", I say in a tone as calm as possible.

"But?"

"But I have a condition", I said and I feel anger taking over me again.

"What condition?"

"Listen carefully, Sartori, if you don't do as I say, I'll blow your brains out without a second thought. Do you understand?"

"What do you want, Romano?"

I weigh the answer I'm about to give him twice before opening my mouth:

Your daughter's hand," I say. "And in return, I will demand all the pictures from last night disappear from the Internet and the newspapers."

"Impossible!" Sartori shouts into the phone

"Does that mean our deal won't happen?" I ask to annoy him even more.

"Why do you want to marry Isabela?"

So that I can kill you more easily and quickly, I feel like telling him, but I keep it to myself.

"Why do you want to marry her, Victor Damiano screams again.

"Because I fell in love with her," I'm lying.

I have nothing to do with her at all, but he doesn't have to know that. The only thing I want Sartori to know is that any wrong step he takes from now on will cost him his life.

"Lies! You don't even know how to lie, Victor! Sartori snorts angrily.

"Do you accept the deal or not? I don't have all day," I say in a glacial tone.

"If all this is part of your dirty games, rest assured that you will soon be no more. I do not want my Isabela involved in your vile deeds."

"None of this has anything to do with your daughter. She will stay away from this."

If Sartori thinks that I will put his daughter in danger with all the things I am involved in, then he is sorely mistaken. Isabela will not have access to all this, and if, one day, she discovers my true intentions, then I will make sure that I never touch her again.

"Okay," Sartori finally said, "but if a single hair of hers is touched by your people..."

"Shut up, Sartori! You are not in a position to threaten me when I am cutting off your head."

The man seems to be muttering something on the other end of the line, but I don't have time to figure out what's going through his dry head.

"I'd like to let Isabela know first," he says half-heartedly.

"Perfect! Then we'll have dinner tomorrow night at 6:00 PM. And don't try to be late or not show up because you have no idea who you're messing with!"

And with all that said, I hung up the call, grabbing my briefcase and coat from the chair.

"Anastasia, tell the press to delete everything that's been published about me and Miss Sartori. I don't want to see anything about us on the press by tomorrow morning. "

"Yes, sir," the blonde replies while adjusting her glasses on her nose.

I've never wanted a marriage, and I'm sure Isabela isn't ready for one either. But in the end, I choose not to care because I don't want to get emotionally involved in this marriage. I want everything to be as formal as possible for me, but as real as possible for the rest. That's why no one will know that this marriage is just a formality.

I look at the watch on my wrist, and I realize that it's past six in the afternoon.

On the last Wednesday of every month, I go to visit her, hoping that the pain I feel every time will disappear, or at least that it will stop occupying my life like it does now.

I want her to understand this too, and I hope that one day she will recognize the real Victor, the one who still has an ounce of feelings in him, well hidden from the eyes of the world.

I close the car door and start the engine.

I wasn't born to be weak or silent. I was born to make the world crumble and tremble in fear at my feet.

And this time, I am absolutely not going to make any exceptions.

[onlyalonelywriter]

!!! TW

CHAPTER 3

ISABELA

As a lawyer, I have always been a stickler for discipline and order. Both in my private life and at work. But the headache I am experiencing this morning does not suggest that.

The light that seeps through the curtains makes my eyes sting. I lie on my back on the soft surface of the mattress, feeling the fine material of the bedclothes. I feel the quilt covering me with the tips of my fingers, and I realize that the material is silk. Then it hits me: these are not my sheets, this is not my bed. And then, where the hell am I?

I sit up, scanning the room with my eyes. The place is unfamiliar. I have never been here before, but despite this, I feel safe, even though I do not even know where I am.

I try to get out of bed, but my legs will not cooperate with the rest of my body. My head throbs with pain, and I immediately remember everything that happened last night until I passed out. From that moment on, the chain of events abruptly breaks.

My feet touch the cold floor of the room, but the feeling of coolness doesn't help me. I urgently need an aspirin. Otherwise, I feel like my head is going to explode.

The entire room I'm in is bathed in sunlight. In front of me is the most beautiful panorama of the city, which, honestly, I've never seen before.

"I thought you wouldn't wake up," I hear a male voice behind me, and I start.

I turn to the person who spoke to me and remain motionless. In front of me, as if nothing had happened the night before, stands Victor, dressed in a very well-kept suit. He doesn't smile at me. In fact, he doesn't make a single gesture, no emotion.

"What am I doing here?" I ask him, trying to hide the emotions that have taken over me.

"After we left the club, you fainted, and I brought you here."

The tone of his voice is emotionless, like his face. I get the impression that Victor has never experienced emotions, that he doesn’t know how to express them, if he has anything to express.

"Breakfast is ready. You’ll receive him in your room soon."

He takes a step back, and without realizing it, I take two steps forward.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Where are you going?"

"To the company."

I could have bet anything that this would be his answer. I don’t know why I’m suddenly angry at him and why I feel like throwing something at him. Something stops me from doing it.

His low, piercing voice brings me out of my reverie. I look back at him and make the huge mistake of looking him in the eye. I swallow my words. My brain refuses to cooperate, and it takes me a few seconds to recover.

"I made sure that the bastard who touched you last night didn’t come looking for you. You’d better not wander around places like this alone next time."

I want to tell him that I was there with my father, but it probably wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t my father who saved my life. It was Victor.

"Wait!" I tell him before he can reach the doorknob.

I take a few steps towards him. My legs are shaking uncontrollably and I have no idea why. Suddenly it feels like the room is on fire. I try to ignore the sensation, so I speak:

"Thank you… for last night," I said in a low voice that I don’t even recognize.

“The pleasure was mine, Isabela.”

I feel the room spinning with me again. I thought the effects of the alcohol should have worn off, but it seems to be the other way around. I place my right hand on the door frame, looking for a foothold. The expression on Victor’s face suddenly changes, and I think it’s the first emotion I’ve noticed on him so far: worry.

Victor seems worried about me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. My breath has picked up again, and I can feel my heart in the middle of my throat.

"Not again," I tell myself as I try to remember everything my therapist has taught me over the course of my sessions.

This can’t be happening to me right now. I need to breathe, but damn it if I still know how.

My eyes are filled with tears, and I look up at Victor, who is supporting my body with a hand firmly placed on my waist. I feel my pulse increasing, I hear Victor calling my name, but I can't cooperate with anyone or anything.

A cold shiver runs down my spine when Victor's hand touches my palm. I feel an electric shock throughout my body, as if my entire organism had suddenly come to life.

His eyes look at me insistently. His lips move rhythmically, forming words that I am unable to understand.

Breathe, I tell myself.

"Isabela, breathe," I hear Victor. "Try to follow me," he continues.

So that’s what I do. I breathe in with him and feel the air in my lungs adjust with each passing second. My heart rate starts to return to normal.

I’m fine, I repeat in my head, trying to gather myself.

Victor loosens his grip on my wrist, but he continues to look at me with insistence and concern.

I should leave his presence, but I can’t. My legs refuse to move.

I don’t even realize it when Victor has brought his lips close to my ear. I can feel his warm breath all over my body. His voice makes me shiver down to the smallest cell in my body.

"Be careful, mia rosa. Next time, I might not be here to save you."

I want to ask him what the hell that word means, but he’s already opening the door, and without even looking in my direction, he leaves the room.

***

I left Victor’s apartment complex three hours ago, and I should be able to focus on the file on my desk, but every time I close my eyes, everything that happened this morning comes flooding back.

I haven’t had a panic attack in about a year and a half. And since then, no one has seen me in the state I was in a few hours ago. No one except Victor.

He seemed so calculated and pragmatic that it scared me. I didn’t think he would know what to do with me in the event of a panic attack, but he turned out to be much more effective than all my efforts combined.

In my right hand I hold a pen, and with my left I turn over the papers scattered on the desk, trying to figure out whether or not the new case I’ve been involved in will have a happy ending.

I’ve been working as a lawyer at Western for eight years. I am considered one of the best lawyers here, and I don’t say that myself, but all the degrees I have been awarded since now. Over the years, I have won over a hundred trials, many of them related to organized crime.

And now I have a similar case in front of my eyes. I should know where to start, but I am missing very important evidence from the file and I can’t do much without it.

My assistant Kimberley enters without knocking and throws another file on my table, this time sealed and with the NYPD stamp printed on the paper.

“What are these?” I ask, looking at her.

Kimberley adjusts her glasses on her nose and clears her voice before answering me.

“It’s the evidence from the Morrow file,” she tells me in a very confident and determined tone. "The police," Kimberley continues after a short pause, "took some pictures of the crime scene and provided them to us as evidence in the case."

"Thank you," I said in a voice that denotes gratitude.

"Sheriff Millers told us that we will also receive the autopsy results later today. Oh, and one more thing! I have arranged a visit to Steve Morrow at the penitentiary today at three thirty."

"Thanks for everything, Kimberley. I promise to make it up to you."

"Don’t worry", she assures me with a smile. "By the way, Isa, who is the guy in the pictures on the Internet?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked because I don’t know what she is referring to.

"The whole Internet is full of pictures of you and an extremely handsome guy. Who is he?" My friend questions me.

Without answering her question, I randomly open the front page of a tabloid, and reality hits me right in the face. A huge photo looms large on my computer screen. In it, it’s me with Victor, but not just any photo, but him carrying me to his car right after I passed out at the club.

I try to pretend not to be affected by the photo, but Kimberley knows me better than anyone.

"Well?" she insists.

"His name is Victor," I say in a low voice. "Victor Romano," I fill in after a few minutes of pause.

Victor Romano!? my friend almost screams.

"Speak more quietly, Kim," I say nervously. "I don’t want anyone to hear us."

"What are you doing together?"

"I was drunk," I explain. "And I passed out," I continued, avoiding telling her that I was about to be raped in the club’s restroom. "Victor helped me get home. I met him last night, and before you ask, there’s nothing between us. We didn’t have sex, if you’re wondering again."

“Wow!” Kimberley exclaims, looking me up and down.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my case. I can’t put this off any longer. I have a lawsuit to win!”

Without asking too many questions, Kimberley storms out of my office, leaving me alone.

I try to pick up where I left off, not thinking about my dad’s reaction when he reads the online press.

[onlyalonelywriter]

!!! TW list

CHAPTER 2

VICTOR

I've barely met her and I already feel like this woman is going to destroy me one day.

I look in Isabella’s direction, trying to unravel her mind. In business, this seemed much simpler.

But when it comes to a woman, nothing seems simple anymore.

That's why I've tried to stay as far away from serious relationships as possible all this time. I'm a fan of fleeting affairs, I don't like complicating my life with a woman who wants stability, a family, and children.

I don't like children.

And I definitely don't want a family.

Isabela's watchful gaze has been following me for several minutes. She's drunk, that's for sure. And I'm not here tonight to babysit the daughter of my number one enemy.

I'm getting closer and closer to achieving my goal, to finally seeing justice, which is truly served for my family. I can’t afford to miss a step or make a mistake because business is like dancing: one wrong step and the whole choreography is gone.

This is different. I don’t want my plan to go to hell, and I don’t want the woman in front of me to stand in the way of it.

Half an hour ago, I ordered a glass of water for her. She obviously didn’t touch it, and she kept drinking her whiskey.

Her stubbornness drives me crazy, and at the same time, it turns me on. And I don’t know why I’m starting to think about her when, in fact, I shouldn’t.

I sit back in my bar stool, trying to ignore the bulge in my pants. I have to push my mind away from this girl, whoever she is.

Suddenly the glass in front of me fills up again with scotch. I don’t remember asking the waiter for another drink. I look in his direction, but he’s not paying me any attention.

“It’s from me,” a female voice says from my side.

I look in the direction of the voice.

Isabela.

Of course she did. I should have realized that.

“My dad paid for all the drinks tonight. I’ll buy you a whiskey or whatever you’re drinking there.”

Of course Sartori did. I don’t think any other businessman in this town would be able to afford to pay for that much alcohol, just for one night.

This shit is unbelievable.

I get up from my seat. Isabela looks at me in panic.

“Are you leaving already?”

“I don’t think I have any reason to stay,” I cut her off coldly.

“Let’s have a drink together, please,” Isabela says, then bursts into hysterical laughter.

“You’re drunk, Isabela. You should go home. This is not a place for girls like you,” I tell her calmly.

“Girls like me? What do you mean? That I don’t belong in this world? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t drink or step out of my comfort zone. You men think you own the world, but you’re so wrong. You don’t know anything about me, Victor! And believe me, you wouldn’t want to see what I’m capable of!"

If there’s one thing I hate about this world, it’s drunk women. And Isabella is driving me crazy right now. I don’t know why the hell she’s here, I don’t know anything about her. But I’d like to find out.

I mentally slap myself.

No. I’m not allowed to do this.

So, in response to her accusations, I straighten up and leave the bar.

I didn’t come here tonight to fuck anyone. I came to get revenge. In fact, to make sure my plan works.

And so far, I haven’t done anything about the plan.

And that’s Isabella’s fault.

I return to my seat, which is on the top floor of the place, where I can see everything that’s going on down there, on the dance floor. And even at the bar.

When I get up there, Isabella has disappeared from her seat. I hope she’s gone home and won’t do anything stupid that will put her in danger.

Why the hell am I suddenly interested in Isabella? Why am I trying to lie to myself that I don’t care where she’s gone or what she’s doing?

If I don’t get out of this place as soon as possible, I’m going to go even more crazy. And I have no right to lose my mind over a woman like Isabella. Over any woman, for that matter.

Suddenly, the place has gotten way too hot, and I don’t even know why. I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for the temperature to be turned up. I can feel terrible tension in the air, a tension that constantly presses against my entire ribcage, preventing me from breathing properly.

“Romano!” I hear an icy voice behind me.

I turn around, trying not to seem disturbed by the owner of the voice from earlier.

“Sartori!” I reply in disgust.

Damiano Sartori is the one who shot my family to death thirteen years ago. My father was his rival, and Sartori was apparently jealous of all his achievements and gains, so he decided to execute him, not caring what he left behind.

I don’t have time to relive that day now. And I don’t want to. Not here and not now, in front of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall to the ground.

“If you lay a single finger on my daughter, I’ll make sure you lose your head.”

That’s how Sartori proceeds. Without further ado, he gets straight to the threats.

“Don’t worry, old man, I’m not going to do that. Instead, the only one here who should have his brains blown out is you. But that's for another time."

I'm not going to mess with him. Not now, at least. But when I have to kill him, I'll make sure to do it with my own hands.

Soon, Sartori moves away from me, and I finally have a better view of the dance floor. An alert melody makes the partygoers sway to the rhythm of the music. Everyone seems to be truly transposed into their own world, unaware that, in fact, the real dangers are right before their eyes.

The music in the place is loud enough to burst my eardrums, but I don't seem to mind that either. The volume at maximum allows me to silence my thoughts, at least for a short period of time.

However, the screams of a woman are not part of the melody in the club. I am very sure of this. That is why I carefully get up from my seat, already having my hand on the gun that I always keep at hand. I look left and right, but I see nothing. The screams continue, this time a little louder, which tells me that the victim is somewhere close.

Right around the corner is a bathroom. Most likely the screams from there were heard, so in a few steps I reach the door, and I don’t even care about the damage I am causing, I simply push my shoulder against the door, and it opens surprisingly easily.

The screams have stopped. But the victim and the aggressor are definitely here. I cautiously hold the gun in front of my face, ready to fire if necessary.

The way to the toilet stalls is clear. Suddenly, my pulse has accelerated terribly. I have no problem killing someone, but I just don't know who I'm dealing with this time.

I break down all the doors to the bathroom, but surprisingly, there's no one inside. I make my way back to the exit, and I discover another door, which is probably the room where the bathroom hygiene and cleaning products are kept.

I try the door, but this time, it's locked. The light inside is off, I can't see if anyone is there, but somewhere in my subconscious, I know there's someone inside. So, without any warning, I fire a bullet at the door lock, and it automatically opens, hitting the wall hard.

Inside, horror takes over my face. A man no older than 40 is trying to fuck a girl.

My breath hitches as I realize I’ve seen this dress before tonight.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the guy. I angrily pull him off Isabela, knocking him to the ground. The girl is terrified by what’s happening, but I appreciate that she doesn’t say a word.

I lunge at the man and punch him in the nose a few times, blood spraying onto his white shirt. I remember that I’m holding a gun, so I pointed it at his head, glaring at him.

“No!” a voice shouts, but it doesn’t belong to the immobilized man.

I turn around. Isabella is crouched against the wall, still watching the scene around her. I’m not going to kill this guy. Just give him a death-defying scare.

I crouch down in front of her, ignoring the man behind me. I scan her face for any injuries, and I realize how beautiful she is. Her unreal brown eyes are filled with tears, begging for help, even though the danger has passed. I look at her, reassuring her that she has nothing to fear, and I do the one thing I swore I would never do: I pick her up.

For a few moments, the world seems to stop. I hold the daughter of my enemy in my arms, and I realize that I don’t want to let her go. Even if I have to. Even if she is not and will never be safe in the arms of an assassin, like me.

Isabela pulls away from my embrace, and I have to catch my breath when I look at her again. She is a gorgeous woman, I can’t deny that. But she is not mine.

But one day, she will be. It’s only a matter of time before that happens.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, breaking the silence.

I don’t know where the hell I’m going to take her, but I don’t want to spend another second in this place.

I help Isabela up and lead her toward the exit. The nearly unconscious man on the floor starts to groan in pain. I’m disgusted with him and what he tried to do to her.

I look down at the gun in my hand and then back up at the man on the floor. And without thinking, I fire the gun at his leg.

Isabela flinches at the sound, but she doesn’t say anything. She smiles at me gratefully, and I wish she hadn’t, because her smile just made me regret shooting that guy. For the first time, I regret shooting someone, and this is because of a smile from a woman I can't have.

Trying not to seem disturbed by this scene, I pull Isabela out of the bathroom and signal the people who accompanied me to come with me and be cautious of everything that is happening around.

Halfway through, Isabela stops, her gaze fixed straight ahead. I have one hand firmly placed around her waist, and I am ready to catch her even when she faints. I don't think too much and take her in my arms, carrying her to the car. I carefully place her on the right-hand driver's seat and get in the car, too.

I analyze all the options I have: I can't take her to her house because that would mean trespassing on the lion's territory. The hotel is not a good option again. Isabela is not a whore to fuck when I'm bored.

I put the keys in the ignition and start the car, heading for the only place I have left: my own home.

I don't bring women to my apartment. No one visits me there.

But for some reason, Isabela isn't exactly a nobody.

[onlyalonelywriter]

!!! read the trigger warnings before starting reading the book

CHAPTER 1

ISABELA

The cold, bitter liquid of the whiskey in the glass I hold between my fingers should make me forget the pain I feel throughout my body.

I should forget even the tiniest memory of this night, but all I do is memorize it over and over, as if my brain were a broken machine.

Maybe, after all, it is broken, since it made me make the worst decisions of my life. One that I will surely regret the most tomorrow morning, and another that I will regret for the rest of my life.

The club where my father is celebrating his new business victory is full of people I don't know, all dressed in extremely expensive suits, all trying to impress with the way they look, not the way they think.

I’m not sure if my presence tonight will have any effect on my father’s party, but I’m here, and for some reason, I don’t want to go home. I’ve had enough to drive, but not enough to forget everything I saw in my fiancé’s apartment twelve hours ago.

Twelve hours ago

In six months, David and I will be married, and all the rumors about Isabella Sartori “Daddy’s girl, the one who can’t do anything without Daddy’s approval,” will finally be gone.

I’ve never experienced what it’s like to be let down in life, and that’s because ever since I was little, my father treated me like a princess, his only child. That’s why I’ve never lacked for anything. If I ever wanted something, my wish would be granted without my father having to think about it too much.

No one ever let me down.

No one except David.

The world saw us as the perfect couple. The kind of couple everyone admired and envied at the same time. The tabloids knew about us and our engagement. Dad made sure to let everyone know, even though I protested vehemently for a while.

From my point of view, I wanted everything to remain as private as possible. I didn’t want the press to find out anything because they would always have reason to make up false information about us.

Except that the press is not far from me, no matter how much I try to stay away from it.

David always insisted loudly that I shouldn't pay attention to everything that was said about me, or about us online or in the newspapers. There was a time when I believed him. And I also believed that he wouldn't break my heart and trample on my soul.

My naivety disappeared once I stepped foot in the apartment we had shared for almost a year and a half. I had this extremely strange feeling that something was happening and that I was the only one who didn't know what the hell was going on. It wasn't until I stepped into our apartment and saw the clothes that weren't mine, thrown here and there on the living room rug, that I realized that my greatest fear had just become my greatest nightmare.

I watched the whole scene unfold in disgust, unable to take a step forward or back. I knew they had to be in the bedroom I used to share with him, but I couldn’t move from where I was sitting.

I tried to sit down in the nearest chair I had, but all I could do was collapse at the foot of the coffee table in front of the couch. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t make a single gesture or sound. But I was crying.

Tears were streaming down my face as the motion movie of our relationship played out before my eyes. All the memories we’d shared so far were floating freely in my mind, and all I wanted was to forget every second of those two miserable years.

I don’t remember when I got up from the floor or how I did it. I was about to leave the apartment when David's voice broke the silence in the room.

"I'm sorry, Isa. It didn't have to happen like this."

That's the fool's excuse. I wasn't going to answer my ex-fiancé, but I knew I wouldn't have another chance, so I wasn't wasting anything.

"No, David, I'm sorry I hooked up with you. That I claimed you were better than anyone. That I thought you could become my husband and then the father of my children. I'm sorry for you, you piece of shit! You'll never be able to love a woman, and no one will be able to love you the way I did! Don't forget this, David: in a relationship you have to be good at everything, including in bed. You failed miserably there too." "Now," I continue extraordinarily calmly, taking the ring off my ring finger and throwing it at his feet, "please excuse me, I don't want to hold you back from satisfying the pleasures of the girl you're sleeping with."

"Isa..."

I don't need his apologies anymore. I don't even need to hear his voice anymore. It makes me sick to think about it, let alone hear it in my ears.

I open the apartment door without giving him an answer or a chance to apologize again. Anyway, his apologies are worth nothing, and everything is meaningless in this equation.

As the elevator doors close behind me, I allow myself to cry one last time for this bastard.

The lights that are far too bright around me bring me back to earth, reminding me where I am and what I'm here for. The glass of whiskey in front of me is empty. I don’t even realize when I emptied it. But the fact is that I need one more, maybe even too completely numb the pain I'm feeling again.

I nod to the waiter at the bar, but I don’t get to ask for another drink before a male voice behind me takes it.

"A glass of scotch on the rocks for me and a cold water for the lady," he says to the bartender.

Who the hell does he think he is to order for me?

I looked over my shoulder at the owner of the voice from earlier, but the guy had already sat down in the chair to my right. I can feel his gaze on me, even though I don’t look in the direction of his eyes.

"Who told you I needed water?" I finally ask him, looking up from the ground.

The spotlights in the bar are so bright that I can’t make out who the person in front of me is.

The guy doesn't answer me. His eyes are fixed on his phone, nervously typing a message. Meanwhile, the bartender brings the order.

" Your scotch, signore."

"Thank you", the man replies in a cold, icy tone.

The bartender places my glass in front of me too, but I don't even look in his direction. I need something much stronger to lessen my pain and I'm pretty sure water isn't helping at all.

"Victor! What a pleasant surprise to see you here again!"

The boss of the place has just appeared at the bar and it's the first time the man next to me has looked up from his phone. He looks at the owner quite distantly, but his eyes land on me again, and I don't know why, suddenly I feel more exposed than ever.

The club owner turns to me, because Victor is no longer paying him any attention. He smiles at me too, happy to see me again.

 "Isabela, my dear, how nice to see you again! I’m glad you came here with your father tonight. I haven’t seen you in ages. Let me introduce you to my friend, Victor."

At his last sentence. Victor jumps in his chair, as if a grenade had exploded in front of him.

Mr. Stanley doesn’t seem to notice how awkward the moment is, so he continues his introductions as if nothing has happened.

"Isabela, this is Victor Romano. Victor, this is Isabela Sartori, the daughter of an old family friend."

Victor looks at me with disgust, astonishment, and something that tries to be repulsion, but I’m not sure.

Victor Romano is too well-known a name in the business world not to give you goosebumps, or even fear.

I didn’t know Victor could be so imposing, nor so distant and tough.

I knew I should be afraid of him, but I’m just too dazed to care who Victor Romano is or why he’s here tonight.

I’ve never thought about revenge. But looking into Victor’s eyes now, I glimpse the possibility of revenge.

It may never have the desired outcome, but maybe this whole thing will help me ease the pain, at least for a few hours.

[onlyalonelywriter]

CAPTIVE VOWS

Trigger warnings & synopsis

prologue

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

[onlyalonelywriter]

PROLOGUE

VICTOR

I could feel the metallic taste of blood dripping from my forehead.

I felt my life draining from my fingers, and all I saw was death.

And he kept shooting, even though he had no one left.

They were all dead.

I was going to survive even though I didn’t want to.

And I was going to get my revenge one way or another.

Not now. But someday, I would.

And when I hold a gun in my hand for the first time, I will make sure the first bullet is for him, the one who killed my family with cold blood.

I want nothing but revenge!

I want to see that brute’s life leave his eyes, just as it did my mother when I was five. I want to see his blood drain from his body, just as it did my father and my younger sister.

But all in their own time.

Because revenge takes time!

[onlyalonelywriter]

CAPTIVE VOWS

Author: @onlyalonelywriter

Status: on going

Genres: romance, contemporary romance, new adult, erotic (minors DO NOT entry), smut

Tropes: marriage of convenience, arranged marriage, billionaire, a little bit of mafia romance

Trigger Warnings: swearing, use of explicit words, use of guns/drug names, explicit content, smut, episodes of panic attacks, alcohol.

note: hello, everyone, and thank you for following me or just simply reading what I'm trying to write here!! I just want you let you know that "Captive Vows" is my first ever book written in English, as English is not my first language ( I just study it at university as an Kid Lit master student) and I'm kinda nervous about what I'm doing with this book. i have this idea from almost a year or two, and i wasn't sure what to do with it. as I said, it is my first book written in English, and I'm so sorry if you will find mistakes both orthographically and grammatically. also, "Captive vows" is my first trying with smut genre. I read kind of books almost all the time and I want it from a long time ago to try writing it too. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone, especially myself. thank you for reading this note! any feedback or reblog is really appreciated.

Synopsis: Victor Romano has only one goal: revenge.

He has long wanted to get his hands on the man who killed his family when he was five years old.

And now, he is finally closer to achieving his goal.

But there are some things in life that we simply can not avoid. Or ignore. And one of them is love.

Raised alone and considered a "soulless bachelor," Victor falls into the trap he has always avoided. Only one person is responsible for this: the daughter of his enemy.

Isabela Sartori - daddy's girl, as she is known by all those who have tried to conquer her, or "the right person at the wrong time."

Isabela knows how dangerous her father is, and yet she accompanies him to every high society party. Only this time, things will be different.

Because he is there, and she can not resist him.

And for everything to go according to plan, one of them has to take a step back.

"Before you do this, Isabella, I have two rules:

1. Don't fall in love with me.

2. Don't break rule number 1."

[onlyalonelywriter]

an excerpt from the first volume of a series in progress

“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now,” he confesses, surprising me again.

“And what’s stopping you?”

Ryker stares at me for a few seconds, unsure if this is a joke or not. His eyes move over my face, eventually settling on my lips, just like I did a few minutes ago. I guess it’s something we can’t control when it comes to us. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it, but right now it feels perfect the way we communicate with each other.

I want to tell him he doesn’t have to ask me if he wants to kiss me or not, but I can’t get the words out, because the next moment, he presses his lips to mine, shaking my entire universe to its foundations. Involuntarily, I open my mouth wider, allowing his tongue to merge with mine. The taste of his kiss becomes by far my favorite flavor. The drug I could take every second of my life at the risk of becoming even more addicted to it.

Ryker's kiss becomes more and more alert, challenging me to match his rhythm. He kisses me like he hasn't done this in a very long time, but I don't complain, because he really knows what to do. I breathe heavily as he pulls back for a few seconds just to catch his breath. He takes my mouth by storm again when I least expect it, and right at that moment I let out a moan of pleasure, which makes him smile above my lips.

It's only when he slowly pulls away from me that I realize something is missing. I certainly wasn't prepared for this, and I never would have expected Ryker Brown to ever want to kiss me. Because the moment he did, it felt like, for just a second, all the walls he'd built around his heart had crumbled.

And now he's standing in front of me, looking me in the eye.

He smiles at me.

I smile at him.

And again, I don't know how I'm supposed to breathe normally.

I'm in his arms again, and his lips, resting on my forehead, are enough to make those butterflies in my stomach come alive again.

–R

[onlyalonelywriter]

Time machine

if I could turn back time

I'll be a child again,

cause were the only way I was happy.

there were times when I loved Christmas,

and all the holidays of the year.

there was a time when laughing

wasn't so hard, and crying so easy.

and if I could turn back time,

I'll hug everyone I lost

and tell them

how happy I am.

[onlyalonelywriter]

always the piano,

but never the score.

always the sand,

but never the sea water.

always the poet,

but never the muse.

always a white canvas,

but never the watercolors.

always love,

but never the loved one.

always the stars,

but never the constellations.

always the moon,

but never the Universe.

always the music,

but never the lyrics.

I've always been anyone,

but for you, just someone.

[onlyalonelywriter]

I told sunset about you

I told the sunset about you,

And asked the sun to wait for another day anew.

I asked the stars to tell a tale

To the universe, a story to unveil.

Maybe they'll tell our story,

Or maybe of other happy people in their glory.

I told the sun to set one more time,

And the clouds to paint the sky with colors so fine.

I told the moon to shine one more night,

And be your muse until the next sunrise.

[onlyalonelywriter]

stardust & starlight

you told me once

that people are made from stardust

and they fall in love

once,

twice

in their lives

until they extinguished

like a shooting star

on a summer night sky.

you told me once

that lovers are made from starlight

and when they fall in love,

they do it forever.

that's why I fall in love with you.

and that's why I choose you

in this life

and in the another.

because choosing you,

is the best thing

I could ever do.

and loving you

was and is

the best thing in my life.

I belive in shooting stars

and I believe in our love.

so tell me, my love,

if we are made of stardust,

what star broke into a million pieces and made us?

[onlyalonelywriter]

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" he asks me, staring at the sky.

I look at him, studying his profile, wondering at the same time if he knows what that expression means.

"The stars are prettier," I finally answer.

And then our eyes met, and I was sure of the answer.

"It always takes my breath away," he adds.

"I could look at her for hours and still never tire of her beauty," I replied.

In the next moment, he turns completely towards me and cups my cheeks in his hands:

"She's fascinating. It's amazing, like a painting across the sky. So beautiful that even the most skilled painter would not be able to put it on his canvas."

I smiled, feeling myself blush slightly.

"Are we still talking about the moon?"

"I didn't even talk about it," he confessed, looking into my eyes as if thousands of galaxies were hidden there.

–R