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Chapter 20: Casual, According to a Billionaire
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2026-07-19 14:59:24
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The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo CHAPTER 23: Independence Day
Adeline's POV ---My alarm isn't set until seven. I'm awake by 5:47 anyway. The apartment is quiet in that specific way it gets before the city remembers it exists. My laptop is already open on the bed. The hot tea on my nightstand has gone cold because I made it twenty minutes ago and forgot it was there. I'm starting to think I make hot drinks just to watch them become cold ones.I know what I've decided.Big decisions have terrible timing. They don't arrive during inspirational speeches or dramatic rainstorms. They show up before sunrise when your tea has gone cold and you've been staring at the same spreadsheet long enough to question every life choice that brought you here.I close the tab with Jack Whitmore's funding proposal. My cursor hovers over Delete, I don't press it. Deleting it would make this feel permanent. Closing it just means I'm choosing something else today. So I open a new document and start writing down everything else.—Miguel and Ethan are already at the cof
The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo CHAPTER 22: Weight Of What Matters
Albert's POV ---The reservation confirmation is still open on my phone.7:30 p.m. Table for two. Corner booth, the one with the good lighting and no foot traffic. White ranunculus sits on the table. She mentioned them once after a charity dinner. Roses were beautiful, she'd said, but everyone bought roses. Ranunculus meant someone had actually been listening.Matteo cleared everything after six without asking why. The afternoon board review, the investor call, even dinner with the London partners disappeared from my calendar before I thought to move them myself.He knew better than to comment.The quarterly report sits open in front of me. I've read the same page twice. The numbers haven't changed, neither has the reservation.My phone vibrates across the desk. Lorenzo.I answer before the second ring."What happened?”"Eight percent.” Straight to business. "Three shell companies. All traceable to Whitmore's people if you know where to look.” I set the reservation face down and rea
The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo CHAPTER 21: The Thesis Defense
Adeline's POV---Five in the morning. Which officially makes sleeping someone else's problem.My thesis is still sitting on the kitchen table. Not because I'm studying anymore. That part ended around four. There's only so many times you can reread the same paragraph before the words stop looking like English and start looking like Spanish.I know this thesis. I know where every citation is, which chapter fought me the hardest and exactly which sentence Professor Okonkwo is probably going to question because I argued with myself over it for three straight days before finally admitting the fifth version was the right one.The thesis isn't what's keeping me awake.Clara texted just after midnight. ‘You're going to destroy it tomorrow. Also I found the cutest café near campus. We're celebrating after.’ I sent back a heart and put my phone face-down.Mom called around eleven. She said Dad would've been proud. That one stayed with me.I glance at the clock.Five fifteen.Well. If sleep isn
The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo Chapter 20: Casual, According to a Billionaire
Adeline's POV Three knocks hit the door, even and unhurried, and I'm off the mattress before my brain agrees to it. The camera strap swings into my collarbone. Right, I fell asleep wearing it after sorting yesterday's shots. The alarm on my nightstand hasn't made a sound yet, so nobody I know is out there, because nobody I know knocks three times and then waits for the door to open. I cross the studio in two steps, shove my palm over the flat side of my hair, and yank the door open with zero plan. Albert stands in the hallway in plain jeans, a gray shirt and brand-new white sneakers. They gleam against my chipped floorboards, and his shoulders stay squared, ready to chair a meeting in my doorway. I squint at the clock on my phone. "It's eight. We said later. Is punctuality arriving before the sun finishes waking up?" "I prefer to be ready early." His voice stays smooth. Sure. His ears have turned faintly pink, and I don't believe a word. I let him in and circle him once, tugging
The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo Chapter 19: Unwritten Deal
Albert's POV My phone shudders against my thigh while the reporter's question hangs in the air, and I finish my answer without dropping my eyes to the screen. "The tower opens in spring," I tell her. "The schedule belongs to the contractors." She tilts her recorder closer, hunting for a quote with teeth. "Mr. Rossi, there are rumors the Hudson Yards partnership collapsed last month. Would you care to address them?" "I'd like to thank you for coming." Her smile thins, and she writes down words that will never reach a headline. Behind her, the rooftop hums along to Antonio's design. Heat lamps glow orange over the deck, champagne flutes drift past on silver trays, and cameras flash toward the skyline whenever someone remembers to be photographed. Antonio stands near the bar, telling the story about the crane operator for the fourth time tonight, while the investors circling him laugh a note louder with each round. I move through them with a nod here and a handshake there, offering s
The Lie I Signed With The Mafia Ceo Chapter 18: Home
Adeline's POV The train doors rattle shut behind me, and a burst of warmth replaces the platform chill clinging to my coat. Somebody's headphones leak a tinny version of "Sleigh Ride" from three seats down. A kid presses his face to the window across the aisle, counting the tiny artificial tree balanced on his mother's lap. I grip the pole overhead and find a spot to stand, my boots braced against the sway of the car, my scarf tucked into a coat doing a far worse job than Colette's tailoring ever did. Shopping bags crowd every open space, ribbons and wrapped boxes poking out between shoulders. Everyone on this train is going somewhere warm. I check the time on my phone out of habit, my thumb swiping across the lock screen, then stop. Six fifteen. For three weeks, six fifteen meant a car outside my building, a message from Matteo confirming pickup, or Colette's team knocking with a garment bag and an opinion about my posture. Tonight, six fifteen belongs to me. Nobody's picking
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