Forced love: A billionaire Mafia enemies to lovers story

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t felt loud in my ears, buzzing under my skin like

ak. I'd learned that over the years-the art of moving silently in my own house. The cl

ing had gone wrong. My stomach twisted as my eyes landed on the shattered gl

after him had become part of my morning routine-like brushing my teeth or grabbin

ence, making the house feel even emptier. I hated this. The constant fear. The pretending. How I

smiled. But those days felt like a different lifetime. Now it was just me and him, the d

made my heart leap to my

still had time. If I moved fas

air

verything else. His voice was rough, the kind of rough that came from too many late nights and

t, right?" His words were

own me. He always said this-only after a few too many beers, when he cou

much I needed him to actually mean it. Sober. But what was the point? W

wallowed the lump in my throat. "Yeah," I m

much it hurt to hear those words like that. But then I remembered the last time I tried to talk to him-really talk to hi

do it again

aside for groceries. I hesitated for a moment, staring at them in my hand, knowing full well what the

felt like I was enabling him, feeding the cycle, but what choice did I have? He'd find a way to get h

outside, letting the cool morning air wash over me. One more da