Chapter 53: The Devil's Unveiling

Davina's POV

The sting on my palm lingered, a sharp echo of the slap I’d given Ezra. My heart hammered, not from exertion, but from the raw, volatile storm raging inside me. I’d run from his office, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me, sealing in the acrid scent of his rage, the taste of his desperate, bruising kiss. Every nerve ending screamed, run, get out, never look back. But where? The club was a labyrinth, a cage he owned.

I found myself stumbling back to the dressing room, the stale air thick with cheap perfume and unfulfilled dreams. I yanked the door shut, leaning against it, my chest heaving. The mirror reflected a stranger: wild eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, hair disheveled. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the girl who just wanted to pay off a debt.

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• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 53: The Devil's Unveiling

  Davina's POV The sting on my palm lingered, a sharp echo of the slap I’d given Ezra. My heart hammered, not from exertion, but from the raw, volatile storm raging inside me. I’d run from his office, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me, sealing in the acrid scent of his rage, the taste of his desperate, bruising kiss. Every nerve ending screamed, run, get out, never look back. But where? The club was a labyrinth, a cage he owned. I found myself stumbling back to the dressing room, the stale air thick with cheap perfume and unfulfilled dreams. I yanked the door shut, leaning against it, my chest heaving. The mirror reflected a stranger: wild eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, hair disheveled. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the girl who just wanted to pay off a debt.

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 52: The Unveiled Truth

  Ezra's POV:The searing pain on my cheek was nothing compared to the gaping wound Davina had torn open in my chest. Criminal. The word echoed, burning, twisting every attempt I had made, every sacrifice, into something vile. She hated me. She wanted to be free of me, and the world I moved in. And in my rage, I had pushed her further away, forced her hand, made her loathe me even more. The taste of her furious kiss still lingered, a bitter, tantalizing ghost, mockingly juxtaposed with the fresh sting of her slap.My hand dropped from my face. Anger, raw and consuming, coiled in my gut, needing an outlet. This volatile emotion, compounded by the simmering tension with my father and the looming Sokolov threat, had nowhere to go. My focus sharpened, narrowing on the most immediate, tangible problem. There had been reports from my men, whispers of a low-level crew trying to skim from one of my protection rackets, or worse, trying to leverage information they'd overheard about the recent De

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 51: The Criminal's Truth

  Davina's POV:The doors to Ezra’s office loomed, dark and intimidating, a portal into the heart of my torment. Roy stood by, a silent, imposing guard, making it clear there was no escape. Ezra, somehow already inside, a shadow against the dim light, his presence filling the vast room. I felt like a lamb led to slaughter, my anger warring with a cold dread.With a defiant lift of my chin, I stepped inside, the heavy doors thudding shut behind me, sealing me in with him. The club's distant music was muffled here, replaced by a suffocating silence that pressed in on me. The air was thick with the scent of leather, expensive cologne, and a raw power that emanated from him.Ezra didn't move immediately. His eyes, dark and intense, scanned my face, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths – relief, perhaps, but also a possessive glint that made my skin crawl."Davina," he said, his voice low, a gravelly rumble that usually held a hypnotic quality. Now, it just grated on my nerves.

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 50: Summoned

  Ezra's POV:I took a breath, recomposing myself. Public confrontation was messy, unprofessional. It wouldn't win her back, it would only drive her further away. But I wouldn't let her simply vanish again.I walked towards the bar, feigning casualness, but my eyes were constantly on the dressing room door, waiting for her to emerge. The club was starting to fill, the music already building to its nightly crescendo. I ordered a whiskey, my gaze sweeping the room, calculating angles, anticipating her movements.When she finally reappeared, she was in her performance costume, a shimmering silver that caught the lights, accentuating every curve. She moved with a practiced grace, her expression carefully blank, betraying none of the turmoil I knew she felt. My gaze locked onto her, willing her to look at me, to acknowledge my presence.I watched her through the crowd as she made her way towards the stage, her path deliberately skirting around the area where I stood. She glanced over her sho

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 49: Within Reach

  Davina's POV:The world slowly solidified around me, emerging from the soft haze of a deep, dreamless sleep. The suffocating heat was gone, replaced by a cool comfort that wrapped around me like a gentle caress. I stretched, my muscles protesting faintly, and opened my eyes. Devlin's room. The soft sunlight filtering through the curtains painted warm stripes across the wall.A quiet sigh escaped me. The crushing weight of betrayal was still there, a dull ache in my chest, but the sharp, stabbing pain had dulled, softened by the oblivion of fever. Oddly, though, a different sensation lingered. A phantom warmth, a faint, masculine scent that was both familiar and strangely comforting. I almost felt... I miss him. The thought startled me. How could I miss the man who had so thoroughly broken me?Devlin entered the room, carrying a fresh cup of tea. Her eyes softened as she saw me awake. "Davina! You're finally back with us. How do you feel?""Tired," I admitted, pushing myself up to a si

• Entangled with the Mafia Don   Chapter 48: A Reluctant Departure

  Davina's POV: The world was a swirling, painful haze. I drifted in and out of a strange, terrifying dreamscape, a feverish reality where shadows danced and voices whispered. My head throbbed, a dull ache that resonated with the frantic beat of my heart. I was so cold, yet so hot, shivering uncontrollably even as sweat slicked my skin. Faces flickered through the gloom. My father, his eyes filled with a familiar despair, then Ivan’s sneering grin, morphing into the cold, calculating gaze of Ezra’s father, Lorenzo. They were all talking about the debt, about payment, about me being used. I tried to scream, but no sound came out, my throat raw and burning. Then, through the darkness, a different voice. Soft, deep, reassuring. It was Ezra’s. But

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