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Voronin in the Flesh
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2025-09-09 08:00:36CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE
LIBRERIA FIORETTAThe shop was quiet, too quiet. The hum of the ceiling fan, the whisper of pages settling in the aisles. The calm before a storm I already knew was coming.He came again. Fifth day. The rhythm of his footsteps didn’t change, but I felt it in my bones, today, something would.And when he placed the book down, my patience ended.Capturing the Lord of the Land.The title was a confession.My gun kissed his forehead before his fingers left the cover. His body jerked, hands flying up as if he could convince me he was harmless.“P–please-” His voice cracked, shaking like the rest of him. “I don’t... I was just-”“Don’t waste my time.” My tone was flat, steady. “Drop the act.”His eyes flicked between me and Nikolai, who was already at his back, barrel aimed at the base of his skull.“I don’t-” He stuttered, trembling harder. “I don’t know what you-”<
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My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Voronin in the Flesh
CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE LIBRERIA FIORETTA The shop was quiet, too quiet. The hum of the ceiling fan, the whisper of pages settling in the aisles. The calm before a storm I already knew was coming.He came again. Fifth day. The rhythm of his footsteps didn’t change, but I felt it in my bones, today, something would.And when he placed the book down, my patience ended.Capturing the Lord of the Land.The title was a confession.My gun kissed his forehead before his fingers left the cover. His body jerked, hands flying up as if he could convince me he was harmless.“P–please-” His voice cracked, shaking like the rest of him. “I don’t... I was just-”“Don’t waste my time.” My tone was flat, steady. “Drop the act.”His eyes flicked between me and Nikolai, who was already at his back, barrel aimed at the base of his skull.“I don’t-” He stuttered, trembling harder. “I don’t know what you-”
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Books Hinting a Pattern
CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE LIBRERIA FIORETTA The door clicked shut behind Nico, and silence folded back into the shop. I didn’t spare it a second thought.“Nikolai,” I called, not raising my voice.“Yes, Señora?”“Send Nathaniel to the outskirts,” I said, sliding a book into place with deliberate care. “It’s time Cynthia moved.”His brow twitched. “Cynthia, Señora?”I turned, sharp enough to slice hesitation from his face. “Yes. My dear little Cynthia. She was trained for this, beauty, brains, skill. A soldier wrapped in silk. She knows how to bait men, and she knows how to gut them.”Nikolai inclined his head, waiting.“The message goes through Nathaniel,” I continued. “Tell her to start with the underground showrooms. Dealers. Collectors. Men who think power comes cheap.” My lips curved, but the smile never reached my eyes. “She’ll know what to look for, tattoos behind their ears, cars with horns. A net
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Voronin Confirmed in Her Territory
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVELIBRERIA FIORETTA Morning The morning was quiet. Too quiet. Sunlight spilled through the bookstore’s tall windows, catching the dust motes in golden shimmer. I’d been stacking the latest shipment of books on the oak table, the smell of fresh paper comforting, almost enough to let me pretend the world outside wasn’t crawling with vipers.The bell above the door rang violently, more slammed open than gently pushed. Nico stormed in like a bullet that had missed its mark but refused to stop moving. His coat was half open, hair wild from the morning wind, his grin nowhere to be seen.“Rosa.” He didn’t even bother with Catalina. He never did when the mask was useless. His voice was a crack of thunder in my peaceful morning. “Voronin.”I straightened slowly, brushing imaginary dust from my hands, calm where he was chaos. “What about him?”Nico slammed his palm on the counter, eyes bright and f
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Foreign Infiltration Confirmed
CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVELA ROSA NERA CAR - UNDERGROUND SHOWROOM MIDNIGHT - DAWNThe leather of the backseat pressed cool against my legs as I leaned back, hands folded neatly on my lap. Renzo drove with the steady precision I expected, Alfonzo at his side, silent and alert. Nico sat beside me, muscles taut, eyes scanning every passing shadow like the city itself could betray us.“Still can’t believe you did it,” Nico muttered, voice ragged, low. “Just… pulled it off. No warning, no mercy.”I didn’t answer. I let the silence hang, letting him stew. My lips curved faintly, just enough to tease, not enough to soothe.The underground showroom appeared, a maze of polished, modified cars, the hum of clandestine commerce thick in the air. Alfonzo shifted, lifting the bag. I watched, detached, as he flung it into the crowd. The head skidded across the concrete, rolling to a stop between the sleek, armored cars.Chaos erupted immediat
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent Nico's Reward - She Kneeled
CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVE LA ROSA NERA CAR - MIDNIGHT I didn’t look back. The flames could swallow Marcini whole, they could carry his arrogance into ash. It didn’t matter. Nico followed. Not because I called for him, but because he never lets me walk away alone. I slid into my car and, as expected, he left his behind. A silent choice. Mine over his. The doors shut, sealing us in that quiet where smoke still clung to the night. “You’ve lit a fuse,” he said, his voice low, almost amused. “Dante will come for blood.” “He already does,” I answered, smoothing my dress over my knees. “One Russian boss less in Italy is one step closer to peace. Or control. Whichever word tastes better to you.” His eyes lingered. Measuring me, like always. “You make it sound simple.” “It is.” That silence stretched, until he leaned closer. The flicker of fire outs
My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent His Ground Turned Hers
DANTE’S PERSPECTIVE MARCINI’S WAREHOUSE – NIGHT That bitch just shot him. No hesitation. Just steel, smoke, and silence where a man’s begging used to be. Marcini’s body slumped, his blood running like filth across his own floor. Worthless bastard. Gave up an alias and then died like the rat he was. The Driver. I clenched my teeth so hard it rattled through my skull. The fucking Driver. Roman Voronin. A Russian thief dressed up as a king, thinking he can carve highways through Europe and step foot into Italy like it’s his racetrack. My racetrack. And she, La Rosa Nera, she sat there like the execution was nothing. Veil, voice twisted mechanical through that changer of hers, tone cutting into me like iron. “Marcini was already dead,” she said, cold, like it was fact, not choice. “He gave us what we needed. Nothing more.” Needed? I didn’t need scraps. I needed that Russian
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