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fait avec amour (m.) made with love

ROSABELLE

"Are you sure he's getting married, Belle? He's not playing a prank on you, is he?"

I shot my husband a skeptical glance as he asked, adjusting his shirt collar in front of the mirror, his figure standing tall beside me.

"He wouldn't joke about something like that, Emi," I countered. "Dad confirmed that Rafael is getting married. You don't think he would joke about it too, do you?"

He chuckled and shook his head in disagreement. "No, but you don't really know Rafe. You think you do, but that guy can say anything as a joke."

"Trust me when I say I agree with you, Emi. But it wasn't just Rafe's confirmation that convinced me; it was my dad's. I even got a direct call from papa about it."

I kissed his cheek when he was leading us out of our shared bedroom, and a mischievous smile crosses at the corner of his lips. "Still can't get enough of me, can you, Belle?"

I smirked in return. "No, you're almost irresistible tonight, babe." He let out a half-laugh at my response, pinning me against the wall before a second could pass. My breath caught in my throat as his arms encircled me. "Is our little one inside you making you cocky, huh?" His thumb gently traced my slightly rounded belly.

I nodded, inhaling his enticing scent.

It had been seven weeks since I became pregnant, and Emi was bluffing so much about having a child as if he was the only man on earth becoming a father. But I appreciated his enthusiasm.

His lips hovered near mine, but I turned my head away. He let out a disbelieving groan. "What the heck?"

"We're running late, Emi," I reminded him. "It's not a wedding ceremony next door. We have to catch a flight to another state in an hour, for goodness' sake."

"We don't need to rush, Belle," he protested, dipping his head once more to brush his lips against mine. "We can get there anytime."

I sighed into his kiss, chuckling a little. "Sometimes, it feels like I'm not the one dealing with pregnancy hormones."

"Trust me when I say I don't need pregnancy hormones to look at you and then want to fuck you right then and there." He playfully nibbled my lips, causing me to yelp.

"You're hopeless."

"True."

I smiled after we pulled apart, and Emi's eyes trailed over the emerald green skirt I was wearing. "Looking stunning as always, aren't we?" He smirked, winking before placing a hand on my waist as we descended the stairs.

"Right. We always look great, babe."

Honestly, the level of narcissism I've gained by being with Emi would take years for me to feel insecure again.

"Atta girl," he responded proudly. "By the way, what's the bride's name again?"

I turned to him to recall the name of the girl Rafael was marrying.

"Ah, it's Anastasia Rossi."

I couldn't believe my younger brother was going to be the first one to tie the knot.

Emi nodded in understanding and led us outside. His inked hand firmly holding mine, his black soul intertwined with mine.

ЛЮБОВЬ ЭТО



CHECK OUT RAFAEL'S STORY NEXT!

• HIS WICKED LOVE

S Y N O P S I S :

The killer of her best friend wants her. What happens when the lines between hatred and desire begin to blur?

Quintessa Rossi's life takes a harrowing turn on her best friend's wedding day when an anonymous man crashes the celebration, determined to ruin the joyous event & ultimately, commit a heinous act━ murdering her closest friend.

Since then, Tessa knew she despised that man forever. However, perhaps the hatred didn't burn as much fiercely as the unwavering want he felt for her from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Rafael De Luca, the entitled scion of the powerful de Luca mafia family, is accustomed to bending the world to his will. And now, he desired Quintessa. Despite his unforgivable act that left her resentful, Rafael believes there's always a room for redemption.

He's wrong.

Because Quintessa is already promised to someone else.

Rafael, however, also believes he's never wrong.

This time, can Quintessa save herself from him and his wicked love?

THE WICKEDS III | A STANDALONE MAFIA ROMANCE

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P R O L O G U E :



It all happened in that day.

The wedding venue lit up underneath the glorifying evening sky, and the soft sound of people's murmurs buzzed around like a distinct echo.

The joy was as magnificent as it is, crushing me time to time with a vague sense of pride and sadness combined.

"Oh my, look at you. Anyone would recognize this stunning bridesmaid." The middle-aged woman beside me purred, her wrinkled face nearly gleaming as she grinned at me.

"Now, I'm more excited about how the bride herself would look like." Said the older woman behind her, her eyes as curious as they held my gaze.

The blush-pink gown I wore and the simple makeup on my face were nothing in comparison to Elena Bernardi, AKA the bride and my only best friend. However, I was careful not to spoil the information to the ladies and chose to enjoy their surprise for later.

The older woman's gaze narrowed down until they halted on my hand, earning me a confused frown. She immediately returned her gaze up to me, though, careful not to catch my attention - or so she thought.

"You are married?" A hint of dissatisfaction waved in her tone as she asked.

The brutally beautiful diamond adorning my ring finger suddenly felt cold against my skin, shining brightly under the lights but dull to my own eyes after so much time passed.

To this day, I remember two years ago when my twenty-one-year-old self looked at this ring with so much astonishment after wearing it for the first time. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

Neither had I seen anyone more beautiful than the owner of that ring.

Given the society I belong to, I never dared to have any expectations about my marriage or life. Because I had no rights to that. And for the first time in my life, even for a brief moment, a tiny, childish part of myself wished that the said man would prove me wrong.

What a fool I was.

Hold yourself together.

I buried the useless thought somewhere in the whiny part of my mind which I hated the most. Then I put on the perfect, graceful face again, smiling tightly at the women before me as I give my head a curt shake.

"Engaged." I replied shortly after. Their eyes widened slightly as they exchanged amused glances with each other. When their attention fell back on me once again, one of them whispered to me with a grin. "So where is the lucky man?"

The question itself halted my breaths from coming out of my lungs properly. I stood with utter shock as a feeling of cold, unwanted dread washed over me.

He is not coming. He never does.

Should I be honest and tell them? My aunt would possibly kill me if I do.

"He told me that he was busy. So he couldn't make it, unfortunately."

Lies. We never contacted for over a year.

I smiled at them again, hoping they wouldn't see the face behind that mask.

A frown made its way on the middle-aged woman's face as she sighed in disappointment. But she returns my smile shortly after. Before she opens her mouth to say something further, a sudden moment of silence caught her attention to turn to my side.

I stopped myself from breathing a sigh of relief as I turn around to face the aisle, or more like the person who made her way inside the place.

Finally, after so much waiting, as the bride herself graced us with her presence, the crowd again broke into happy and shocked whispers. All of them complimented about the utter beauty before us as she walked down the aisle. But her eyes remained glued to the one person on the other end, a sheepish smile dancing on her face. Her eyes were so bright that I was nearly bewitched until the woman beside me nudged me on the shoulder.

"Goodness, God. Why have you never told me about this?"

"Pazzo, È eterea!"

I never bothered to indulge myself again in their conversation as it carried on about my best friend, but I felt beyond proud for her.

The wedding started afterward. From the vows to the speeches, everything was completed in a whim of a second - or so I felt. It took nearly an hour.

Then, there it was, the final moment.

"I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may-"

The priest's words were interrupted with a sudden, loud and unexpected clash. Huge gasps broke free from the crowd in surprise. Their attention turned back to the new source of commotion now, forgetting about the bride and groom's moment for a second.

But I was unable to turn my gaze from Elena Bernardi, the woman whose beautiful face resembled a statue now, blood drained from her expression as she looked at her opposite direction.

"Having fun without me, Elena darling?"

Only after hearing the masculine voice of the unknown person, who was the sole object of attention to everyone now, I followed Elena's gaze to look at the source of where the sound came from.

My breath immediately caught up to my throat. And then, I felt as though the devil himself had appeared down from hell to wreak havoc in the world.

And his first target just happened to be this happy wedding ceremony, unfortunately.

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WANT TO KNOW ABOUT ALEKSANDR'S STORY? CHECK OUT 'HIS WICKED HEART' ; IT'S COMPLETED!

S Y N O P S I S :

Men like him were no gentleman. Could she trust her heart to him?

Genevieve Antonova was charmed by the monstrous man that ruled over Moscow. She left that man & the city he ruled a year ago. However, fate had its own twists, and one year later, unexpected events led her back to Moscow, where she had once become infatuated with the man she least desired for herself and her heart.

Cold & brutal Aleksandr Nikolayev was a man of undeniable allure, favored by many woman due to his charm and wealth. Never had he fathomed that a woman would be the one to walk away from him in first place. But she did.

Genevieve was an intriguing woman from the start, a woman of calm and quiet composure. Aleksandr was utterly bewildered when she left him suddenly, and without any reason.

Now that destiny had woven its threads once more, guiding Genevieve back into his domain, Aleksandr seemed unwilling to let her go until he unraveled her.

This time, can Genevieve save herself from him and his wicked heart?

THE WICKEDS I | A STANDALONE MAFIA ROMANCE

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