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Silk and Sin

Ravenxx_
28
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 28 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Dark Romance | Mafia | Obsession | Jealousy | Possession She was silence. He was violence. Jade Monroe escapes to the city hoping to disappear, an innocent soul burdened by a painful past and desperate for peace. Quiet, artistic, and guarded, she wants nothing more than to blend in and start over.Jake Valerio is the city's most feared mafia boss, cold, ruthless, and untouchable. He doesn’t believe in softness or redemption. Until he sees her.One chance encounter drags Jade into Jake’s lethal world, a place where trust is a weapon, obsession cuts deeper than bullets, and love doesn’t come without blood.She’s the calm he was never meant to have. He’s the storm she never saw coming.But in a world ruled by secrets, enemies, and dark desires, can a man like him protect something as delicate as her? Or will loving her be the one war he can’t win?
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Chapter 1 - City of eyes

The city had a pulse.

Not the rhythmic beat of music or footsteps or rain, no, it was deeper than that. A heartbeat beneath pavement and glass, fueled by secrets and sins. Here, even the shadows had eyes.

Jade felt it the moment she stepped off the bus.

The terminal was buzzing, choked with strangers and cigarette smoke, but she stood still. Her fingers clutched the handle of her suitcase like a lifeline, eyes wide as they soaked in the chaos. Bright lights bled from screens. Car horns screamed. A man cursed loudly behind her. But Jade barely flinched.

This was her fresh start.

No more dusty townhouses. No more tight-lipped aunts who said healing took time, then never gave her any. No more reminders of what she'd lost.

Here, in the chaos, she could disappear.

She pulled the hood of her gray coat up and moved fast. Blending in was survival. Always had been.

By the time she reached her tiny apartment—fifth floor, no elevator—her arms ached and her throat was dry. The room was nothing special: peeling wallpaper, a single window, and creaky floorboards. But to Jade, it was sacred. Hers.

She dropped the suitcase on the floor and collapsed onto the mattress. The silence was heavy, but familiar.

And safe. For now.

Across the city, danger moved with intent.

Jake Valerio lit a cigarette with fingers stained in blood.

The ashtray on his desk was full. The body in the chair across from him was not yet cold.

"Tell Alvarez I want the shipment in by Friday," he said to his second-in-command, Luca, without looking up. "And clean this up."

Jake's voice was low, sharp, meant to be followed, not questioned.

He exhaled smoke and watched it curl toward the chandelier. His black shirt clung to him, sleeves rolled up, forearms inked with history.

The Valerio name ran deep in the city, deeper than law, deeper than fear.

And Jake, at twenty-eight, had already bled more than most men twice his age. He didn't believe in softness. He believed in control.

Until he saw her.

---

It was two days later.

Jade had taken a job at a small art supply shop tucked between a laundromat and a liquor store. The pay was trash, but the owner, Miss Lottie, didn't ask too many questions. Jade liked her for that.

That afternoon, she was sketching quietly behind the counter, a habit she couldn't break when the bell above the door chimed.

She looked up and froze.

The man who walked in didn't belong in a place like this. Not with that sharp jawline and that expensive-looking black coat. Not with those dark, dangerous eyes.

He didn't browse. He didn't smile. He just walked straight to the counter, eyes never leaving hers.

"Graphite pencils," he said.

She blinked. "Uh… 2B? 4B?"

His gaze flicked down to her sketchpad, then back up. "Surprise me."

There was something in his voice. Smooth. Cold. Familiar in the way lightning feels familiar before it strikes.

Jade handed him the pencils and barely noticed when their fingers brushed. She saw it though, that flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition? Interest?

He didn't linger.

"Keep the change," he muttered, tossing a bill that was way too much. Then he was gone.

And just like that, her world was no longer quiet.

---

Back in his car, Jake sat in silence.

He hadn't meant to stop. He never did things without purpose. But when he passed that window and saw her, hair falling over her eyes, pencil moving like it had its own soul, something made him turn back.

"Who is she?" he asked Luca later that night, as if he already knew it wasn't nothing.

Luca raised a brow. "The girl at the art store?"

Jake said nothing.

Luca nodded. "Jade Monroe. Twenty-two. No family in the city. Just moved here last week. No social presence. Clean record."

Jake lit another cigarette.

"Want me to dig deeper?" Luca asked.

Jake didn't answer for a while. Then:

"Not yet."

Because for the first time in years, he didn't want information.

He wanted to see her again.

The next time he came in, it was raining.

Jade looked up at the sound of the door, expecting a delivery guy.

Instead, it was him again, Jake, though she didn't know his name yet. He shook the water off his coat like a wolf shedding the wild.

"You're soaked," she said before she could stop herself.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "You gonna offer me a towel or just observation?"

Her cheeks flushed. "There's a bathroom in the back."

He didn't thank her. Just walked past the counter like he belonged there.

Jade stared after him, pulse rising. She didn't understand why her chest felt tight. Or why she couldn't stop thinking about his eyes. They were cold, but not empty. Like a storm that hadn't hit yet.

Jake stood in the bathroom, dripping water, staring at himself in the mirror.

What the hell was he doing here again?

She was… ordinary. Sweet. Kind. Dangerous.

Because softness like that was something men like him didn't deserve.

And yet here he was.

---

That night, Jade walked home later than usual.

The rain had stopped, but the streets still glistened with reflection. Neon lights from bars painted the puddles pink and green. She liked the city this way, muted, distant, less harsh.

She didn't notice the man following her.

Until he grabbed her.

It happened fast. A rough hand over her mouth. Another yanking her back into the alley.

Jade's scream was swallowed by the night.

She kicked. Fought. But he was bigger. Stronger. She felt the sharp edge of a knife press to her side.

"Don't move," the man growled, breath hot and vile.

Her heartbeat roared in her ears. She thought of her sketchpad. Of the quiet mornings. Of how she never even got to .

A gunshot cracked through the air.

The man fell.

Jade collapsed to her knees, trembling, staring at the blood pooling beside her.

And then… boots stepped into her view.

Black, polished. Calm.

Jake knelt beside her, gun still warm in his hand. His voice low, controlled.

"Did he touch you?"

She couldn't speak.

His jaw flexed. "Did. He. Touch. You?"

She shook her head, tears falling silently.

Jake exhaled slowly. Then pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders like armor.

"You're safe now," he said.

But it sounded like a promise he wasn't supposed to make.

---

She didn't remember getting to his car. Or the drive. Just the sound of rain starting again and the low hum of his voice on the phone:

"Take care of the body. Clean the alley. I don't want her name in anything."

She didn't ask questions.

When they got to his penthouse, she hesitated at the door.

"This is your place?"

Jake nodded. "No one will find you here."

"I don't even know your name."

He finally looked at her—really looked.

Something in his expression cracked, just for a second.

"Jake."

She whispered, "Jade."

He smiled, barely. "I know."

---

The apartment was all glass and steel. Cold. Untouched.

Until she walked in.

Jake watched her move through the space like a ghost, quiet, unsure, beautiful. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted to know what she was afraid of. He wanted

No. He clenched his fists.

Wanting was dangerous.

But when she curled up on his couch, his coat still around her, eyes fluttering shut despite everything…

He stood guard all night.

And for the first time in years, Jake didn't sleep either.

He watched the city through the glass,its chaos, its violence, its lies, and wondered how a girl like her survived it.

And more dangerously…

Why he suddenly wanted to make sure she did.

---

Jade woke to the smell of coffee and something softer, jasmine, maybe. The couch was warm, the blanket heavy. For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then she opened her eyes and saw him.

Jake. Sitting in the chair across from her, elbows on his knees, watching her like she might disappear if he blinked.

"You didn't sleep," she whispered.

"Neither did you."

She sat up slowly, wrapping the blanket tighter. "You should've let me go home."

He shook his head. "You think he was alone?"

The thought made her skin crawl.

Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Tell me something. You always walk alone at night?"

She swallowed. "I didn't think..."

"Exactly." His voice was sharp. Then softer: "This city eats people like you alive."

"And what about people like you?" she asked quietly.

Jake smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I run the city."

---

Later, he let her shower.

The hot water stung her skin, but she welcomed it. Steam wrapped around her like safety. She pressed her forehead to the tiles and tried not to cry.

Who was this man?

Why did he make her feel seen and afraid in the same breath?

When she stepped out, a change of clothes was waiting, black joggers and a hoodie. His.

She hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric. She hadn't worn someone else's clothes in years.

When she finally emerged, Jake was at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, forearms taut, phone pressed to his ear.

"Handle it. I want names, faces, families."

He looked at her mid-call and ended it without a word.

"You found something?" she asked, voice hoarse.

Jake nodded. "The guy who grabbed you was a low-level thug. But someone sent him. It wasn't random."

Jade's stomach dropped. "You think he was after me?"

"I think someone saw something soft and wanted to ruin it." His eyes locked on hers. "That doesn't sit well with me."

"Why?" she asked.

Jake stepped closer. Close enough that she felt the warmth radiating off him. "Because I don't like people touching what I've noticed."

---

She didn't go home that day. Or the next.

Jake never asked her to stay, but he didn't let her leave either. And she didn't fight him. Not really.

The apartment shifted around her. Once sterile, it now felt alive. Her sketchpad was on the glass coffee table. A single coffee mug had claimed a spot near the sink. Her hair tie was looped on the doorknob to his office.

Jake noticed every detail. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was always to her.

And when she laughed, rare, shy, short, it made something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

She wasn't his.

But God, he wanted her to be.

One night, a week later, Jade found herself in his office.

Books lined the walls. The smell of leather and smoke hung in the air. His gun rested on the desk like a sleeping beast.

She stood there, staring at it.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Jake's voice came from behind.

She turned slowly. "You kill people."

He didn't flinch. "I protect what's mine."

"I'm not yours."

His jaw clenched. "Aren't you?"

The silence cracked like lightning. Jade stepped closer, heart racing.

"You don't even know me," she whispered.

Jake's eyes were dark, burning. "You think I care?"

And then he kissed her.

Hard. Possessive. Like he'd been holding back for years.

Jade's breath caught then melted into it.

Because she'd been holding back too.

His lips on hers felt like fire dangerous and consuming, but she didn't pull away. Couldn't.

Jake's hands framed her face with a gentleness that contradicted everything about him. Jade's fingers curled into his shirt, steadying herself as her knees threatened to give out.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was rough against her cheek.

"Tell me to stop," he said, voice low, strained. "And I will."

She looked up at him, eyes wide, heart screaming, but not with fear.

With everything else.

"I don't want you to," she whispered.

His hand dropped to her waist, gripping her just enough to remind her what he was capable of. "This isn't sweet, Jade. I'm not some boy who'll write you poetry."

"I don't want poetry," she breathed. "I want truth."

Jake's gaze darkened. "Then here's the truth, you've been in my head since the day I saw you. And every time you smile like the world hasn't broken you, it makes me want to burn everything that ever tried to hurt you."

Jade blinked, stunned. Her walls, paper-thin from the beginning, caved in.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said.

"You should be," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Because I don't let go."

---

That night, she slept in his bed.

Not in lust.

In something more dangerous.

He lay beside her, arms behind his head, eyes open to the ceiling.

And for the first time in his life, Jake didn't feel like the most dangerous thing in the room.

He felt like he had something to lose.