His'(+18)
Description
⚠️ WARNING!⚠️ This book contains mature contents, vulgar words, violence, toxicity, and age gap differences, which may be triggering to some readers. ---- He added a second finger into her pussy and she let out a muffled moan. "You sure you don't want this? Your pretty little pussy seem to be betraying your words", She gripped the edge of the counter and shut her eyes tight,managing through gritted teeth. "I hate you,murderer", His jaw hardened and he stopped his movements with his fingers inside her. "Say it again", She wanted his fingers to move in her so badly, as pathetic as it may sound. She gritted her teeth again and let out. "I said I hate you, murderer! I wish you would just die and-ahh!" She yelped the minute his fingers left her panties and grabbed her to bend her over his knees as he sat on the tall stool there. "What are-ahh!" She yelped when his palm made a harsh contact with her bare ass. "Count!" He growled.
Chapter 1
Feb 20, 2026
"The devil gets what he wants, and his eyes are set on only her."
CHASE ROMANO was known as IL DIAVOLO.
'THE DEVIL' was a man whose presence alone was enough to evoke a silence more sinister than the one in a graveyard.
Nothing or no one could ever make him love anyone or shake him, or so he believed.
SOPHIA BENNETT was the perfect definition of a naive and innocent teenager. But that wasn't going to be long the moment she witnessed a murder and was waltzed right back into 'The devil's' life, the man of her nightmares for he tainted her innocence and ruined her.
CHASE ROMANO
LOYALTY was one word missing in his dictionary for he believed he didn't owe that to anyone. Only they owed it to him.
Honor changed its directions the moment he tasted power, the moment he felt it course through his veins, for it was euphoric; being in raptures, laying down the law and bending it.
His whole being starved for respect, praise, power, and status and he had it all. That was the type of world he grew up in. A kind of world where you could sleep with only one eye closed, one that ricked of blood, drugs, gunpowder, sex, and brutality, a kind of world considered hell; only he would be the one to get a spot at a high table and watch everything from above.
He was habituated to it; it was solely a part of him. It acclimatized with his personality and he never intended to change it, neither was he planning to renounce the power he had.
He besotted it when people called him IL DIAVOLO which meant 'The devil'. It delighted him to be the man who created the chilling silence, the man whose voice amplified command.
He didn't want it to end, at least not until he wanted it to and that wasn't something he'd ever do. That was one of the reasons why he never repudiated it when the wind whispered the rumors of him killing his mother, Giovanni Romano; that was why he smiled whenever the little birds chirped secrets of him raping his sister and stabbing her to death; that was why he never denied it when people who didn't know him, spoke of his clever work of setting both his mother and sister's bodies on fire.
For these reasons, they feared him. For these reasons, no one dared look at him in the eye when they talked. No one, except his three little cousins-Lucas Romano, his underboss; Luciano Romano, his flirty consigliere; and Valerie Romano, their little mafia princess as her brothers called could look him in the eye, nor bear up against him.
He seldom suspected they had Ill intentions and never trusted them, even if they had all known each other since they were kids. Their father worked for his father, and they were all working for him.
Maybe, there had been a time when he trusted them with his life, but he had stopped that the moment he knew how capricious trust was. Chase didn't trust himself enough to even let them trust him, but then again, that was what he thought of every man inferior to him. He trusted no one, and no one trusted him.
It was better that way. Kept people belt-and-braces for what he liked doing.
His cousins had tried multiple times to gain his trust where one blunder led to a bullet through your skull, but he was having none of it. He was always conceited by the fact that they never used to play as little kids, no matter how they liked to think they did, more especially, Luciano, Lucas' younger twin.
Chase believed it was expected as he knew that he would put a bullet in their heads if he ever sensed a real threat to his goals, and that was it.
Everyone's fear was him. And everyone's worst nightmare was him.
"White doesn't suit you, nipote", His father's brother would tell him. "Why do you think Fratello and I never wore it? You don't want to get stained with a sinner's blood, do you?",
His uncle was the reason he only wore black, devoid of any other color.
With his good looks, he could have any woman beneath him. His midnight black eyes were enough to leave any woman lusting after him and even without many tattoos on his body-something expected from someone like him-he screamed dominance. When he moved, he moved graciously, as if time was on his side, one foot after the other, a seductive sound to the ears unlucky enough to hear it.
His deep, accented voice blessed the ears of everyone around him when he was in a good mood to talk. He never smiled. He saw no use for it. There was nothing to smile at.
He could still remember it as clear as day, dragged to one of his father and uncle's business meetings. He dared to laugh when one of their capos made a funny joke, thirteen-year-old Chase got the beating of his life when they returned back home safely. He still had the blemish to show for it. They stung mentally each time he saw something potentially funny to smile or laugh at.
"Why won't you learn, Nipote? You smile, you lose your respect. Never fucking smile. Always remember, there's nothing to smile at",
For a man who thrived from power and respect, he never forgot his uncle's words. His words were like gold atop his palm; he never forgot a single sentence, when even at that time, the man made life miserable for him. And he was grateful for the man because if not for him, he'd have never acquired the respect he had. He was glad no one could read him or his next move. He would have included emotions amongst the things people couldn't read, but he didn't think he had any left. Not with the way he was left by his father to be trained by his uncle.
Fear, anger, sadness, regret, happiness, remorse, frustration, care, jealousy, envy. They were all gone. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to just feel.
He had lost a sense of humanity a long time ago and that had earned him a nickname-one bound to send a man to his early grave just by the mention of it.
He was The Devil and he loved it. More than anything.
The air was still, the smell of Cuban cigars slightly fogging the large office. Courtesy of Chase, who sat on his large chair, behind his desk while his three cousins were opposite him. Lucas, was the only one seated with his eyes fixed on his laptop, while Luciano and Valerie stood behind him.
Lucas looked up from his laptop, into Chase's eyes. "Avevamo ragione, Don. Sono Russo."
("We were right, Don. It Russo.")
Chase stared blankly at Lucas, before looking slightly between the two behind him, then took out the cigar from between his lips and blew out smoke. He returned his cold eyes back to Lucas. "Finiscilo."
("Finish him." )
The three understood very well what he meant. He had, after all, assigned them to that work because a traitor like Russo didn't deserve his time.
"Su di esso, Don."
They all chorused and walked out of his office with a bow of their heads in loyalty, leaving him alone with his blank thoughts.
("On it, Don.")
His'(+18)
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