07/11/2024
🥷BITTER SWEETNESS👠
(A SIP OF WINE...
ONE KISS OF LIES,
AND THEIR LOVE BECAME
A DEADLY OBSESSION....)
CHAPTER 13&14
⚠️DON'T COPY OR REPOST⚠️
By Lovie's Library
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SORRY FOR THE LATE CHAPTER. THE MAJORITY SAID WE SHOULD CONTINUE THE OLD STORY. SO HERE IT IS 🎉
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She took her hand to his face as she wiped a tear with her thumb.
"HELLO.....
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“Hello,” Melissa greeted, her voice smooth but carrying that edge of danger she always wielded.
Luca had jolted, eyes wide as he stumbled back a few steps, his tears now mixed with the fear that instantly surfaced.
But to her surprise, Luca’s small hands fumbled for something in his pocket. In an instant, the boy had drawn a gun, trembling as he pointed it in her direction.
Melissa froze for a moment, not out of fear, but shock. A gun? On a child this young? She raised a brow.
The boy was shaking like a leaf, his tear-streaked face mixed with fear and confusion.
Melissa stood still, her eyes locked on the small, trembling boy in front of her. Luca’s tear-streaked face was flushed with fear, his tiny hands gripping the gun as if it were the only thing tethering him to safety.
She took a slow step toward him, her heels clicking against the pavement. "What are you doing out here, Luca?" she asked, her voice deceptively soft.
Luca flinched at the sound of her voice, taking a step back, his wide eyes filled with panic. "S-stay away!" he stammered, holding the gun out in front of him as if it could keep her at bay.
Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a small, bemused smile. "Stay away?" she repeated, her tone mocking as she inched closer. "What do you think you’re going to do with that, little prince? Shoot me?"
Luca's breath hitched, his chest heaving with each shallow breath. He couldn’t stop shaking, his fingers trembling around the trigger as he held the gun up with both hands.
Melissa continued to approach, and Luca was terrified, his fear radiating off him in waves. But there was something more — something fragile in the way he held that gun, in the way his hands shook as he stared her down.
“I said stay back” Luca said but Melissa moved another step.
“You are lost. Why not let me take you back home” Melissa said but Luca replied her immediately “I don't have a home”
“Oh” she said as she walked forward again. “So—”
“Stay back. I don't trust you or anything you say” Luca said wondering where the boldness was coming from even though his hands were still shaking.
“You think killing me will make your father proud?” Melissa taunted, her eyes narrowing. "Do you really believe this will make you strong like him?"
Luca’s eyes flickered with confusion and hurt. His father — the man who barely acknowledged him, the man who didn’t care if he lived or died. The words stung, hitting him where it hurt the most.
Melissa took another step forward.
And then it happened.
A loud crack echoed through the night air as the gun went off. Luca had pulled the trigger.
Melissa froze for a moment, stunned. Her shoulder seared with pain, and she looked down, realizing she’d been shot. Blood soaked through her dress, her mind registering the injury as she stumbled back slightly.
Luca’s eyes widened in horror as he saw what he’d done. The boy dropped the gun, tears spilling over his cheeks as his body shook violently.
“I-I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. Fear overtook him, and without another word, Luca turned on his heel and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
Melissa stood there, clutching her wounded shoulder, her breathing shallow as she watched the boy flee. Surprise flooded her system, but above all, she was astonished.
Vincenzo’s son had shot her. The boy who was too weak, too fragile, had actually pulled the trigger.
Her lips twisted into a pained smile as she headed to her car to make a call.
“Track him” she said to the receiver at the other end. She wore her jacket to cover the wound and continued her journey to where she was headed at first.
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THE DEN
Marco walked into The Den, one of the clubs frequented by mobsters of different clans. It was dimly lit, with red and purple neon lights casting a low glow across the room. The air was thick with smoke and a mix of ci******es. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floor, making it feel like the entire club was alive.
As Marco moved through the crowd, he noticed st*****rs dancing on poles in the center of the room, their bodies twisting and turning with practiced grace. The men surrounding them stared shamelessly, throwing money at the dancers' feet. Near the bar, two men were locked in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the world around them. A few Dons sat in a private booth, surrounded by half-naked women draping themselves over their laps, whispering sweet nothings as they filled their glasses with expensive liquor.
Marco’s eyes roamed the room, taking in the scene, but something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman who looked exactly like Lisa. She moved quickly through the crowd, her figure vanishing into a corner.
"Lisa?" he muttered to himself his brows furrowing in confusion.
He pushed through the crowd, weaving past sweaty bodies and ignoring the women who tried to catch his attention. His gaze darted to the direction she went, but when he reached the spot, there was no sign of her. He scanned the room again. Was his mind playing tricks on him.
“It couldn’t be her...” Marco muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He knew Lisa had no business being in a place like The Den. He had to be imagining it.
Frustrated, Marco continued his search for Fredricko, the man he came for in the first place, though the image of Lisa’s face lingered in his mind like a shadow.
He scanned the room again, and this time, his eyes landed on Fredricko—a tall, sharp-featured man with a snake tattoo winding around his neck. Fredricko sat at a booth in the far corner, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his eyes tracking everything around him like a hawk.
Marco strode over, slipping into the booth across from him. Fredricko glanced up, a smirk playing on his lips as he recognized Marco.
"Marco," Fredricko greeted, his voice laced with amusement. "Didn’t think you’d show your face here after last time. I guess you escaped the Salvatores"
“I’m here for the documents. Vincenzo doesn't like to be kept waiting.” Marco said ignoring his comment.
Fredricko took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly before reaching for a briefcase. He unlocked it and brought out a piece of document.
“Everything’s in there,” Fredricko said, watching Marco’s expression.
Marco didn’t waste any time. He took the envelope, glancing inside to confirm the contents. The documents were exactly as requested—detailed blueprints and strategic notes on a target location. Vincenzo had been particular about needing this intel, and now it was in his hands.
Fredricko’s smirk widened. “Tell Vincenzo to watch his back. Salvatore’s people are getting bold. And he’s not the only one with eyes on that shipment.”
Marco’s expression turned steely. “Worry about yourself, Fredricko. Vincenzo doesn’t take kindly to people trying to cross him.”
Fredricko raised his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk never faded. “Hey, I’m just passing along friendly advice.”
Ignoring him, Marco stood up, tucking the envelope securely inside his jacket. He gave Fredricko one last glance, then turned and made his way out of the club.
_______
RIZZO'S CLAN—VINCENZO MANSION
In the dimly lit study of Vincenzo’s mansion, the silence was broken only by the soft rustling of pages as he flipped through the thick document Marco had brought. Each page revealed information he needed, yet his concentration was shattered when the doors swung open with a loud crash. Sofia stormed in, her heels clacking sharply against the polished marble floor, fury blazing in her eyes.
“What is wrong with you, Vincenzo?” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “Our son is out there—missing—and you’re here, buried in your precious documents! Are papers more important than your own blood? Do you even care about anyone other than yourself?”
Vincenzo continued to read, barely sparing her a glance. But Sofia’s voice grew louder, cutting through the calm he held onto tightly.
“Luca has been gone for hours, and instead of organizing a search, you’re hiding in here. How can you be so… heartless?” Her voice broke slightly. “You never wanted him, did you? From the moment he was born, you treated him like an inconvenience. I see it, Vincenzo! I see it in the way you ignore him, the way you barely look at him. He's just a burden to you, isn't he?”
At that, Vincenzo’s hand froze, his gaze still lowered to the document, yet his jaw clenched. Sofia, however, continued her tirade, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—of the storm she was provoking.
“Maybe I was wrong to think you could ever care about family,” she spat. “All you do is destroy. You think power and control are all you need, but one day, Vincenzo, it’ll cost you everything. And when that day comes, I hope you realize it was your own cold heart that pushed everyone away.”
Vincenzo finally closed the document, placing it neatly on his desk. He rose slowly, the controlled movement concealing the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior. Without a word to Sofia, he walked past her toward the guards at the door.
“Who let her in here?” he asked quietly, his voice steady but chilling.
The guard standing closest looked down, his face pale. “Forgive me, Signore. I thought—”
Before he could finish, Vincenzo pulled out his gun, and the shot rang out like thunder in the silent room. The guard crumpled to the ground, lifeless. In the aftermath, the room fell deathly silent, the echo of the gunshot lingering.
Vincenzo turned back to Sofia, his eyes hard and unyielding, his face set in an expression that made her step back, the anger in her eyes replaced by shock and a hint of fear.
“Luca,” he said icily, “is your son, Sofia, not ours.”
The weight of his words hung in the air as Sofia swallowed, momentarily stunned into silence. Vincenzo didn’t spare her another glance. He walked out of the room, his steps calculated and purposeful as he headed to his car.
As he slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly, his frustration burned hotter than before, mingling with the cold rage Sofia’s words had stirred. But as he drove, one thought, one name, managed to pierce through the cloud of anger: Lisa
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In a dark, cold room, deep inside an unknown location, the air was thick with tension. The man who had harassed Lisa at the coffee shop was on his knees, trembling with fear. His face was bruised, and blood trickled from his split lip. He looked up, terrified, at the figure standing before him—a man in a black mask, only his sharp eyes visible, filled with cold fury.
The masked man was known only as Il Lupo, the leader of a hidden clan that operated in the shadows of Italy's criminal underworld. Every member of his clan bore a distinctive tattoo—a wolf, etched in black ink on their left hand, symbolizing loyalty and strength. The same tattoo was on Il Lupo’s hand as he clenched it into a fist, seething with anger.
“You....,” Il Lupo’s voice was low but deadly, “You brought shame to this clan. How dare you?”
The man on the floor whimpered, his voice cracking. “I-I didn’t know who he was! I swear!”
Il Lupo didn’t care for his excuses. “Vincenzo Rizzo,” he spat the name like venom, “he’s just a tool, a puppet. But it’s time to cut the strings.”
With slow, deliberate steps, Il Lupo circled the man, who was shaking under the weight of his fear. “You brought attention to us. Now we must respond. Vincenzo will fall, and when he does, the entire Rizzo clan will burn with him.”
He stopped in front of the man, his voice turning colder. “Fiore, you want to live, right? Do something useful for once. Help me bring them down.”
Il Lupo stepping closer, bending down to meet the Fiore's eyes. “By the time I’m done, the Rizzo name will be nothing but ash.”
The man on the floor, knowing he had no choice, nodded weakly as Il Lupo turned and walked out of the room.
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Lisa was in her cozy little kitchen, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts. She was stirring a pot on the stove, humming softly, when an odd sensation washed over her, like someone was watching her. Turning around, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
There, in the doorway, stood Vincenzo. He looked calm and collected, his hands casually in his pockets, but his gaze was sharp, assessing her in that intense way of his.
“Vincenzo!” she stammered, hand clutching her chest. “How did you get in here?”
He shrugged, stepping forward without a word. She stepped back instinctively, feeling the coolness of the countertop against her fingers.
“So…what brings you here?” she asked, trying to regain her composure.
He simply watched her for a moment before he say on the kitchen stool assessing her appearance.
“But how did you get in here? Or did you come in through the window?” she asked nervously.
Vincenzo's eyes darkened. Did she just indirectly compare him to a thief, because only thieves comes in through a window
Lisa noticed this and quickly changed the topic. “Thank you. For saving me that night.”
Vincenzo’s expression didn’t change; his face was as unreadable as ever. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Lisa let out a soft laugh. “Well, I do anyway. Not every day do I get a hero saving me. And to think you've saved me twice. Your a hero”
“Hero?” he scoffed. “That’s not me.” He looked away as though the word felt wrong on his tongue.
She tilted her head, curious. “Alright, then. What would you call yourself?”
He gave her a look, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Someone doing what had to be done.”
Lisa bit back a smile. “You know, for someone who saved me, you sure are a bit too serious.”
“Serious?” His tone was flat.
“Oh, yeah,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re always so…intense and serious with this cold scary look. I don't think I would be talking to you if you hadn't saved me twice. I bet you don’t even remember what a joke sounds like.”
Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s so funny about that?”
“You!” she said, her laugh growing. “Everything we’re saying! It’s like I’m talking to a rock.”
He looked at her, his eyes darkening again and Lisa stopped laughing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. She said when she noticed his eyes.
Vincenzo looked at her. He was trying to laugh or at least smile so she won't think of him as a rock but instead his eyes had darkened and she thought he was angry.
“How do one smile?” He asked and she looked at him and started laughing. A small smile appeared on Vincenzo's lips but it disappeared as soon as it came.
“Did you just smile?” she asked, surprised.
“I did not,” he replied coolly, his face immediately back to its usual stony look.
“You did!” She stepped back, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I saw that,” she said, pointing, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “You smiled.”
He shook his head, his face back to its usual unreadable expression. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh, am I?” she teased, taking a step back, only for him to step forward, closing the distance between them. She took another step, feeling the cool wall at her back as he moved in, his gaze intense and unwavering.
“Admit it, Vincenzo,” she whispered, looking up into his eyes. “You smiled.”
“I didn’t,” he replied smoothly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt her heart race.
“You’re... you’re not acting like a gentleman,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.
A smirk flickered on his lips. "Who said was a gentleman?" He said as he leaned in.....
TBC
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