LOGINI was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.
View MoreLaura”s Pov.
“You little slutty barren. All you ever do is bring shame and embarrassment to our family,” my mother in-laws' words echoed in my head as I gulped the third cup of whiskey down my throat, complied with the sounds of loud music from the speakers close to my ear, my head and eyes felt heavy with grief.
The past fourteen months of being married to the Harrison family have been a never-ending nightmare. Every day came with its own bag of sorrow.
I thought marrying into one of the wealthy and influential families in California would bring me security and happiness, but it's been the exact opposite. My mother-in-law, Amanda Harrison, has made it her mission to make my life a living hell.
I took another swig of whiskey, feeling the burn all the way down my throat. I was trying to numb the pain, but it was no use. The words still stung, still echoed in my mind like a cruel mantra.
“Slow down, Laura. You have a husband to go back home to, remember?” from my blurred vision, I stared at Bella faintly.
“He is off to his mother's office for some business talk as usual,” I muttered, my eyes closing, acting to the effects of the alcohol.
Bella exhaled softly. “If he spent more time with you, you probably would have been pregnant by now, and his mother will take a break from haunting you.”
I smiled inwardly at Bella's words; if only she knew, if only they all knew, if only the whole world knew that Ethan, my husband, was gay, and he married me to keep his real sexuality hidden.
“I will get pregnant at the right time,” I mumbled to Bella, even though I knew I was going back home to my dildos and vibrators like I had been doing for the past fourteen months.
“The party is about to start right now,” Bella whispered to me, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
I simply nodded and gulped another cup of whiskey. I wanted nothing but highness and drunkenness, the kind of intoxication that would take me out of the feeling of my current situation.
I drank until I started to feel a wave of dizziness wash over me. The room began to spin, and I felt like I was going to pass out.
I excused myself and staggered towards the restroom, desperate to ease myself and clear my head. As I reached the door, I realized I had made a mistake. This wasn't the ladies' restroom.
Drunk and pressed, I pushed open the door and stepped into a luxurious men's bathroom. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and leather. I felt a flutter in my chest as the strong scent filled my nostrils.
I raised my head and widened my drunker eyes to see the figure standing next to me. He was standing at the sink, holding his cock and dangling it slowly, when his eyes met mine in the mirror.
I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body as our eyes locked. He was wearing a tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and chest. His hair was dark and perfectly styled, and his smile was strong and seductive.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the sudden attraction between us palpable. I felt like I was drowning in his eyes like I was being pulled under by a powerful force.
And then, he spoke first. “Can't you see? This is the male restroom!” He yelled, pushing his cock back into his boxers.
“I can see, and I can see that you’ve got a big cock right there,” I pointed to his manhood region.
A smirk escaped his curvy lips, but it was quickly replaced with a stare of disgust. “You should take your eyes off my private part,” he blurted.
“I stared at him blankly. “While I do that, I think we should let our private parts meet in unity,” I said seductively, walking towards him.
He stood there, gazing at me, watching my every move. I got very close to him, and our breath kissed each other.
“I don't fuck whores,” he snapped, shoving me away.
“I'm not a whore, I'm just a horny, sexually starved woman,” I said softly, looking at my finger to be sure I was wearing that mother fucker wedding ring.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to process what I had just said, and then he chuckled, licking his lower lips. “Women barely admit that they want sex. There is something about you,” he said slowly, his eyes fixed on me.
“I'm not special, I'm just horny,” I confessed shamelessly, slowly running my fingers in his beard.
“I see,” he gently placed his right hand under my chin and planted a deep kiss inside my mouth.
Instantly, my whole body electrified. I grabbed his head and kissed him even harder.
His warm tongue kept thrusting my mouth slowly, exploding the pleasure bomb in my head and driving me to the world of ecstasy.
Every worry, every care, every painful memory seemed to fade away as he wrapped his hand traced down to my breast and I couldn't bring myself to resist him, I surrendered myself to his intoxicating touch.
His lips and tongue brushed against my nipples, sending sparks flying through my veins. I felt alive, truly alive, for the first time in months. The whiskey-fueled haze still lingered, but it was no match for the heady rush of sensation burning through me.
“Let's go to a room, I want to have a taste of you,” his deep and husky voice whispered into my ear.
“No…no…” I disagreed. “Fuck me here,” I whispered, struggling to overcome the feelings of guilt in my heart.
“Here? In a public restroom?” Surprise tinged in his voice.
“Yes, please,” I muttered lowly.
Slowly, he adjusted my gown and my ass fell bare on his wide palm. He grabbed and squeezed them happily.
“You are so sexy,” he whispered, carrying me up to his waist, he pushed his waist and slowly his cock filled my already wet cunt.
“Fuck! You are so tight,” he groaned,
Spring came later to The Hague than to Boston, but when it came, it came all the way.The tulips along the canal opened overnight — red, yellow, purple, laid out across the grass in sheets, tourists everywhere with their phones up.My office at the standing committee was on the third floor. The window looked out onto the back gardens of the Peace Palace. On clear days, if I looked far enough in the direction of the North Sea, there was a strip of silver light.Daniel moved over in the third month I was in The Hague.Not for me — at least, not entirely. He'd landed a research project in international public law back in Boston, with a partner at Leiden University's law school. The work was based in The Hague. Two streets from my office.His first day, he tracked me down at a café on the canal."You have any idea how bad the coffee is here," he said, sitting down across from me and dropping three sugars into his espresso."The Dutch drink tea," I said."I know." He pushed the cup aside. "
I saw how Vincent's story ended on the news.Not a feature. Just a brief on local Chicago TV, wedged between an armed robbery and a traffic accident. Under forty seconds of airtime."Chicago businessman Vincent Maro has been formally arrested by the FBI on charges of interstate arms trafficking and money laundering. Prosecutors allege the case involves more than two hundred million dollars and implicates a decade of illegal Maro family activity. Maro has been denied federal bail."I pulled it up in my office in The Hague.I was prepping for the next day's arbitration hearing. An Americano, no sugar, on the desk beside me. Outside the window, a gray early Dutch spring. A boat going by on the canal, its horn low.I read the piece. Ten seconds, maybe. Closed the tab. Went back to the file.More came in over the following weeks.Marco sent one last encrypted message. One line. I did what I could. The ones who needed to get out, got out.He didn't say more. I didn't ask. I could guess — Mar
The last time Vincent came to Boston was on an evening when it was snowing.I was working late at the firm, getting handoff documents ready for The Hague. Daniel was in the office next to mine, the door between us open, occasional exchange, occasional silence.My assistant knocked. Said someone was here for me.I walked out and saw him at the end of the hallway.He'd aged again since three months ago.Not in years. The kind of aging where something has collapsed on the inside. His eye sockets were sunken. His cheekbones were sharp. There was visible white in his hair now. Still the same coat, but it didn't sit on him anymore. It hung loose, like borrowed clothes.No one with him.He used to go nowhere without at least two soldiers. Now he was standing alone in a hallway in a Boston law firm, like a man who'd lost his way.I brought him into my office and closed the door.He sat down. He was quiet for a long time."You've heard about the FBI." His voice was rough."I've heard.""Three c
I got back from East Africa as Boston was going into winter.A thin sheet of ice on the Charles. Nobody rowing. The trees along the banks were bare, branches like cracks against a gray sky.The firm threw me a small welcome-back party. The partners toasted me with wine and said congratulations, said the arbitration result had made a real impression in the international legal community — the tribes got fair compensation, the mining group kept its contract but made substantive concessions, the new government's review procedure was folded into an ongoing oversight framework. Nobody had lost.Someone asked how I'd pulled it off.I said I didn't. A lot of people pulled it off together.Daniel was standing in the corner with a glass of wine he'd barely touched, looking at me. He didn't say anything.After the party broke up, he helped me clean the conference room. Stacked the glasses and paper plates together."I read the follow-up report on that case," he said, sweeping crumbs off the table
The morning of the third day I was gone, Vincent realized something was wrong.He sent someone to the safe house. They came back saying I wasn't there. The accounts were reconciled and left on the desk. Not a single thing of mine remained.He called my phone. It was off.He texted. Couldn't deliver.
Day three at the safe house. The heat finally gave out completely.The sea wind came through the cracks in the window. I pulled my coat tight around me and went back to the accounts.The old accounts were worse than I'd thought.I didn't know how long I worked. At some point I felt a chill seep out
Late that night, Vincent came into my study.No knock. No lead-in. He just sat down in the chair across from me."There's a pile of old accounts at the dock warehouse," he said. "Tied to a money laundering run from three years ago. The FBI's been sniffing around that line. Someone needs to be on-sit
The last guest walked out. A few family soldiers were still in the courtyard, not yet dispersed.Sofia stood in the foyer on Vincent's arm and turned to me."Elena, grab Vincent's coat for me, would you? You know which closet it's in."Not a question. An instruction.There were still men in the yard


















Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.