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CHAPTER 72:When Monsters Play God
Last Updated:
2025-09-11 09:28:44
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Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 81:The Face of Deception
RICARDO“Boss…” My assistant’s voice broke through the silence the moment Damian left my office. He stepped closer, his brows drawn tight. “This game we want to play with Matteo… do you think it’s safe?”Safe.The word rattled inside me like a warning bell. My gaze shifted to the woman standing by the window, the faint light spilling across her face. Damn it I couldn’t tell the difference between her and Isabella. Same eyes. Same curve of the lips. If she had fooled me this easily, Matteo wouldn’t stand a chance.I knew it was a risk before the words left my mouth; the sound of them didn’t make them smaller. “I know it’s a risk.” My voice sat low in the room, the kind of low that carried better than force. The leather under my palms creaked as I shifted. “A dangerous one. But if I can’t tell her apart from Isabella, Matteo won’t either.” I kept my gaze on the woman across from me. The light hit the same way on her cheekbones, the same shadow at the curve of her mouth. The resemblance
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 80: Paris, a City of Traps
DAMIANThe moment my boots touched Paris soil, a shadow crawled up my spine. The city was alive neon lights flickering against rain-slick streets, the air heavy with perfume and secrets. But beneath it all, I felt something colder. Not fear of my brother never him. What gnawed at me was the unknown. That invisible whisper that death might be waiting in some hidden corner.I forced myself to smirk at the thought. Impossible. The only man who ever had the power to end me was Vincent, my closest friend, my rival in everything that mattered. And Vincent was six feet beneath the earth. Or so I told myself.Still, instincts are not so easily silenced. That is why I was in Richardo’s office instead of toasting Paris with wine.Richardo sat rigid behind his desk, spine straight, hands clasped tight as if he could squeeze out the answers from the air itself. His jaw flexed with every word I didn’t speak. His eyes were hawk-sharp, scanning me like a man trying to anticipate a strike he knew was
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 79: Fangs Behind the Smile
VALENTINAA soft voice broke through the haze.“You’re awake, sister.”I blinked against the sharp light flooding the room, my lashes fluttering until the world came into focus. White walls, wide windows, and the faint scent of roses drifting in the air it wasn’t the jet, it wasn’t the runway, and it definitely wasn’t the chaos I’d left behind in New York.My gaze landed on her. Flora. My elder sister. Sitting in a chair beside me, her posture straight but her eyes… guarded. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Five years. Five years since I last saw her, since Father had thrown her out and erased her from the Greco family. Yet here she was, unchanged, as though time had been too afraid to touch her.I pushed myself up slowly, my muscles heavy with exhaustion. “Flora…” My voice cracked as I whispered her name.“You need rest,” she said, standing as if the closeness between us unsettled her.But I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out and pulled her into a hug. Her body was stiff, relu
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 78:The Price of Freedom
ISABELLAOnce, I used to imagine marrying Damian. It was a secret daydream, tucked away in the corners of my girlhood silly, sweet, full of hope.But those dreams burned the night he slaughtered my family.He spared me, not out of mercy, but because he wanted a toy to break. His pet. His possession. And no matter how often I begged my heart to stop, it still betrayed me with cravings for his touch cravings my soul despised.Now, I’m his wife. Not because I said yes, but because he made it so.“Come,” his voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth but sharp enough to command my feet.A blindfold covers my eyes, his hand heavy on the small of my back as he guides me through his estate. My pulse stumbles with every step. Damian never gives without taking, and never surprises without cruelty tucked beneath the bow.“I have a gift for you,” he says near my ear, his tone low, coaxing. “You’ll love it.”A gift. The word tastes bitter. What can a cage hold but another chain?The cloth falls from
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 77:The Last Man Standing
MATTEOThe corridor smells like bleach and burnt coffee. The florescent lights buzz too loudly, like a jury waiting to decide. Vincent’s name is taped to the door; the paper trembles when I push it open.He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one foot dragging on the linoleum, eyes fixed on the TV though the volume is low. The hospital gown hangs off his shoulder like armor that’s been forced on and never suited him. When he looks up, there’s a flicker surprise, then the old, flat thing that lives behind his pupils. A murderer I recognize too well.My palms itch. Plans that lived in my head for months feel fragile, already splintering.“You got married to Isa?” I don’t let it sound like a question. Words are weapons here. He flinches at the name.He laughs half a cough, half a sound someone makes when swallowing poison. “Too quick?” he says. His voice is small but clipped. “You’re not the only one who moves.”I study him. There’s a bruise blooming at the base of his throat, and the left
Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance) CHAPTER 76:The Language of Revenge
VALENTINAThe ropes bit into the skin at the back of my hands. Damp stone pressed cool against my calves; the dungeon smelled of mildew and old sweat. A single torch guttered in the corner, throwing the room into jagged light and deeper shadows where rats moved like small, opinionated ghosts. I tasted iron on my tongue thirst, and something else: the thin, metallic edge of a plan.“He asked for water?” one of Damian’s goons barked, voice rough as gravel. He stepped closer, boots scraping over moss-caked flagstones. His shadow swallowed the little light I had.I blinked at him and stayed still, because movement gave away fear. When he spat, warm and filthy, the liquid stung more than the insult. It landed across my cheek and ran into my hair. My jaw found its line. My hands, tied but not useless, flexed.“Please,” I said, the word small and steady. The dog with a badge only chuckled, pulling his collar the way men pull their pride when they think a woman can be broken.“If you begged l
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