Chapter 39: A Forbidden Touch

Davina's POV:

The weight of Ezra’s unexpected confession clung to me like a second skin throughout my final set. His low, almost guttural words – I don't want them touching you – replayed in my mind, a confusing mix of possessiveness and something that felt dangerously close to… care? It was a stark contrast to the cold, controlling Don I knew, and it left a tremor of unease and a strange, unsettling anticipation fluttering in my stomach.

As the last notes of the music faded and the scattered applause died down, I gathered my meager earnings, the small stack of bills feeling insignificant against the looming shadow of my father

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• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 46: Confession

  Davina's POV:The warmth of Devlin's blanket and the soothing herbal tea did little to quell the tempest raging inside me, but her quiet presence was a lifeline. I sat huddled on her sofa, the oversized shirt still clinging to me, a constant reminder of the man who had shattered my world. Devlin sat patiently beside me, her hand gently rubbing my back, waiting for me to speak."He... he is engaged, Devlin," I finally choked out, the words tearing from my raw throat. "To Tatiana Sokolov. He was betrothed to someone else, and he just cancelled it. His father told me. Right there, in his kitchen." The memory was a fresh, brutal sting.Devlin’s hand stilled. Her eyes, filled with a deep, weary understanding, hardened. "The Sokolovs," she murmured, a dark note in her voice. "I should have known. Ezra De Luca doesn't make moves without a strategy.""A strategy?" I echoed bitterly, fresh tears blurring my vision. "He used me, Devlin. He took me, knowing I was... knowing it was my first time.

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 45: She is Safe

  Ezra's POV:Davina. She was out there, alone, heartbroken, and barely dressed. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I grabbed my phone, her number already on speed dial, but it went straight to voicemail. Again. And again. I didn't wait. I strode straight for the garage, pulling on a jacket as I went."Andrea!" I barked into my earpiece as I slammed the driver's side door of my black G-Wagon. "Dispatch every available man. Sweep the city. Check every place she might go. The club, her family. I don't care how many men it takes. Just find her."I drove like a madman, tearing through the familiar streets of L.A. My eyes scanned every alley, every bus stop, every shadowed doorway. The early morning rush had long since faded, replaced by the more languid pace of midday, then the slow creep of evening. Each minute stretched into an eternity, filled with the torment of not knowing, of imagining her hurt, her fear, her tears. The frustration was a hot, burning ember in my chest,

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 44: Gone

  Davina's POV:The slam of the heavy front door echoed in my ears, a brutal punctuation mark on the shattering truth. One moment, I was in Ezra's arms, the next, his father's venomous words had ripped open a gaping wound, exposing a betrayal so profound it stole my breath. Engaged. The word spun in my head, a cruel, mocking dance with the memories of his tenderness, his powerful body, his whispered promises from hours, or perhaps mere minutes, ago.I ran. I didn't know where I was going, only that I had to escape the suffocating walls of his house, escape the ugly truth that clung to me like the very shirt on my back. His shirt. The symbol of our intimacy, now a stark reminder of his deception. The fabric, once comforting, felt like a shroud of humiliation.The morning sun, once promising, now felt like a harsh spotlight on my bare legs, my disheveled hair, my tear-streaked face. I navigated the familiar, yet now alien, streets. The city, usually bustling with early morning life, felt

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 43: His Fiancée

  Ezra's POV:The scent of bacon still lingered in the air, mixing with the heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Davina, still wearing my shirt that swallowed her frame, was a domestic vision I hadn't known I craved. She turned from the stove, a soft smile gracing her lips, and my gaze dropped to her bare legs, a subtle reminder of our night. I crossed the kitchen, drawn to her like a moth to a flame."Morning," she murmured, her voice a little husky from sleep.I didn't reply with words. Instead, I pulled her close, her small body fitting perfectly against mine. My hand found the back of her neck, tilting her head up, and I kissed her, slowly at first, tasting the coffee and the sweetness that was uniquely her own. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, a hungry claim. Her fingers, still holding the spatula, tangled in my hair, pulling me closer still. The world outside, the looming conflict, the heavy burden of my decisions, all faded into the background. All that existed was the f

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 42: The Morning After

  Davina's POV: The first thing I registered was the warmth, a heavy, comforting weight draped over me. My eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of the room slowly revealed the dark, unfamiliar linens. I stirred, and the arm around my waist tightened almost imperceptibly, pulling me closer. It was Ezra. His breath feathered against my hair, deep and even in sleep. I could feel the solid plane of his chest against my back, the powerful curve of his arm. For a fleeting moment, a wave of intense embarrassment washed over me, hot and stinging. What had I done? This was Ezra De Luca, the man who held my family's fate in his hands, the reason I was dancing in a club, the reason I was homeless. And last night… last night we had shattered every boundary.

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 41: His Davina

  Ezra's POV: The kiss in my study had unleashed something primal, a raw, undeniable hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. Her lips, soft and yielding, tasted of a forbidden sweetness that ignited a fire within me, a dangerous, possessive claim I couldn't resist. When I finally broke the contact, our breaths mingling in the charged air, her wide, trusting eyes held a bewildered vulnerability that both captivated and stirred a fierce protectiveness. I didn’t speak; words felt inadequate, clumsy. My hand remained at the nape of her neck, my thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin beneath her hair, a silent command that her body seemed to obey. I took her hand, her small fingers surprisingly warm in mine, and led her out of the study.

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