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A Private Gathering
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2025-08-12 08:00:22DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE
PRIVATE MAFIA GATHERINGLucchese Underground Hall, MidnightThey showed up like vultures. All of them. Dons from old bloodlines, cocky bastards from new syndicates, even the washed-up leeches who should’ve died five years ago. Everyone wanted to talk about her.La Rosa Nera.I lit a cigarette as the room filled. Sat at the head, polished leather shoes crossed at the ankle, watching every arrogant piece of shit file in like they owned something. This was still my city. My table. My goddamn war.Carlos Moretti sat with that stiff spine like he ran something outside his wife’s purse strings. Nico Mareni came in last, smirking like a bastard with a loaded secret. His silence pissed me off before the meeting even started.“I’ll get straight to the point,” I said, voice flat. “We’ve all had interference.”Whispers. Shifting eyes. No one wanted to admit it. But I could smell the fear. And that made me grin.
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My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent A Sudden Jealousy
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE "Spit it out, Nico."My voice cut through the room like a blade, flat and cold."You think this is a fucking joke?"They all watched him, every suit around this table, every snake in polished shoes puffing cigars like the smoke would hide their fear. Carlos Moretti leaned back like he was above the rest of us. Bullshit. Even he had sweat behind his ears.And Mareni?He sat there like a smug little bastard, fingers laced over his gut, chin lifted like we weren’t even in the same food chain."I said I don’t talk about her," he said.He fucking smirked.A gun clicked beside him.He didn’t blink.“Who is she?” I asked again, quieter this time. Deadlier. “Who’s La Rosa Nera?”Nico just looked at me. No fear. No twitch. Nothing but that calm, fuck-you confidence he wears like a second skin."Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand," he said.
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent A Private Gathering
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVEPRIVATE MAFIA GATHERINGLucchese Underground Hall, MidnightThey showed up like vultures. All of them. Dons from old bloodlines, cocky bastards from new syndicates, even the washed-up leeches who should’ve died five years ago. Everyone wanted to talk about her.La Rosa Nera.I lit a cigarette as the room filled. Sat at the head, polished leather shoes crossed at the ankle, watching every arrogant piece of shit file in like they owned something. This was still my city. My table. My goddamn war.Carlos Moretti sat with that stiff spine like he ran something outside his wife’s purse strings. Nico Mareni came in last, smirking like a bastard with a loaded secret. His silence pissed me off before the meeting even started.“I’ll get straight to the point,” I said, voice flat. “We’ve all had interference.”Whispers. Shifting eyes. No one wanted to admit it. But I could smell the fear. And that made me grin.
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Ghost He Can't Touch
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE LUCCHESE MAIN HEADQUARTERS I slammed the door so hard the glass cracked behind me.“Bring them in,” I snapped.Within the hour, the entire room was packed, my men, all of them, shoulder to shoulder. Phones ringing, papers scattered. Eyes everywhere, voices barking orders, calling in every favor, every rat and informant that’s ever owed me blood.“Nico’s been visited twice,” Malcolm reported, slamming a folder down. “We tracked both nights. Same figure. Same route. But no clear image. She’s too careful.”I tore the photo from his hand. A blur. A shape cloaked in black, face hidden under a wide hat. Even the fucking cameras couldn’t catch her. No skin. No features. Nothing.“You’re telling me this is all we have?” I hissed, throwing it across the table.Malcolm didn’t flinch. “Yes, boss. She left no trace.”“She’s real. She walks into Nico’s house like she owns it. And we don’t have shit?
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Hunt for La Rosa Nera, Begins
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE NICO'S MANSION I didn’t knock.Didn’t wait for permission.I walked straight into Nico Mareni’s lair expecting to find it the same sewer I’d left it. Sweat-stained velvet, bodies sprawled like corpses waiting for orders, the stink of whiskey, cigar smoke, cheap sex, and rotting money. The stench of desperation that clung to the walls like mildew.But it was gone.All of it.The air was clean. The carpets weren’t soaked in sin. The silence wasn’t eerie, it was disciplined. The guards out front looked like men with purpose, not addicts with guns and half a reason to breathe.And him?He was behind a desk.An actual desk.Filing something like he gave a damn. Not a naked girl in sight. Not even a goddamn drink in his hand. Just Nico, clean, organized, untouched.I stared at him.“This your new front?” I muttered, stepping in like I still owned the floor.
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent His Road to Recovery
DANTE'S PERSPECTIVE LUCCHESE ESTATE All my wounds had healed.Physically, at least.The stitches Catalina placed never once tore. Not because of my stillness, I’m not a patient man, but because she watched me like a hawk every time I moved. Her glare carried more weight than a dozen bullets. So I behaved.Mostly.We didn’t talk about what happened that night. Or the nights that followed.But something shifted. Subtle. Like a door left open just enough to feel the wind change.She moved slower around me, but not out of fear.She lingered.Every morning, she helped me sit up even though I could do it myself. She still treated the skin where the bruises had been, palms soft and steady, as if refusing to believe I was fully healed unless she declared it so.Every meal, we ate together. No guards. No meetings. Just us.She made me coffee. Brought me cut fruit. Forced soup down my thro
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent The Language of Silence
CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE LUCCHESE ESTATE He didn’t say anything after that.And neither did I.Dante just let his hand fall back to the mattress, fingers grazing the sheets like he forgot how to hold anything that didn’t hurt.So I stayed.I stayed there, beside him, even when my knees ached and the soreness between my thighs reminded me of everything we did last night. I adjusted the gauze one last time, smoothing it gently. Then reached for the salve, dabbing it against the smaller cuts on his side, ones he probably didn’t even feel, but I did.His breath slowed. Not asleep. Just watching.I didn’t look at him.If I did, something might break inside me.And I couldn’t break. Not yet. Not until everything I buried had its revenge.Instead, I picked up the cloth. Wiped away the dried blood on his abdomen. His neck. The smudge on his jawline that wasn’t mine. I didn’t speak. I didn’t ask.
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