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Chapter 49: Spitting Fire
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My Mafia Man Chapter 50: Sweet Like Ciccio
Alessandro’s pov: I wake up to her every day, but every day is not enough, I need more. I’ve never believed in soulmates, but I know that she’s mine. Her bright browns hidden by her eyelids, her plump lips pressed together, and her hair all over me. I chuckle to myself thinking about last night. “Alessandro, art gallery,” she brushes my cheek with her thumb, her eyes still closed and my heart flutters with joy. “Yes, Tesoro, let’s go,” I kiss her knuckles. Five Hours Later “I want this to become our daily regime. Us going to either an art gallery or a shooting center every morning, spend time together till lunch, and then, head to our workplaces,” I tell her as I drop her off at her art gallery. “Me too,” she kisses me from outside the car, from the glass which is rolled down. “Deal, then?” I ask, holding out my hand like she had when we were signing the contract. “Deal!” She shakes my hand enthusiastically. Then, she turns on her heels and walks away into her abode of heaven.
My Mafia Man Chapter 51: Pitiful Wretch
The Next MorningAlessandro’s pov:“Amber,” I rub her back, “We’ve got to train today.” She mutters, “I’ll join you in five.” I head to the training center and set up the painting that I made recently. It is my attempt at painting guns and brushes…It looks okay. I let out a sigh.She enters in her attire, and she gasps at the painting. I utter, “It isn’t the best, but I gave my best.” She examines every detail while she traces her lips with her index finger. It feels like a teacher evaluating my exam paper.After she’s done, she looks at me and says, “It’s perfect.” I roll my eyes and scoff. “Perfect doesn’t look like that,” I let her know. “No, Alessandro, the imperfections make it perfect. You told me that you gave it your best, I’m proud of you!” She smiles at me tenderly. “Tesoro, this is what I was up to when you accused me of walking into the bathroom with blood stains on my shirt,” I tell her as I select a gun. “I never accused you,” she picks up a gun of her choice, “So it wa
My Mafia Man Chapter 52: Fuel Pouring Out The Barrel
Alessandro’s pov: “Okay,” I mutter, “Who’s the other person?” I question with a relaxed expression. “Okay?” Harlow snarls. “Yes, okay,” I repeat. Dante points to the other guard holding the chit. He hands it to Harlow. “Dante. Dante Jovie,” Harlow hisses. Dante’s torn lips and broken teeth smile at me. I don’t waste a single second shoving the gun down Dante’s throat before pulling the trigger. As the blood pours out, I feel anger gushing through my veins. Pietro. That bastard. Harlow is scanning the written pages with wide eyes and an open mouth. “What is it?” My concern cannot be hidden. “Nothing,” he doesn't even take a second to look at me. I scoff and snatch the papers from his hand. It reads: Alessandro, there’s a video on my phone…One that Pietro sent about a week ago. I’m surprised as to how fate works its magic. If I never received this video, then the truth would’ve never been revealed to you, my boy. I might’ve betrayed your father, but I have been loyal to you…I kno
My Mafia Man Chapter 53: Oil To The Fuel
Harlow and Alessandro walk out of the elevator, across the lobby, and straight into the car. “Head to the art gallery; Kenna’s Dreams,” Alessandro tells the driver. They reach within a few hours. “Lilly,” Harlow greets her at the door, “We need some help.” Alessandro waits patiently as he asks her questions. “On Thursday, about a week ago, did Amber leave early?” Harlow asks. Lilly nods. “Did she mention where she was off to?” He questions and Lilly says, “Her daddy. She, in fact, canceled important client meetings to do so.” Harlow demands proof and Lilly shows him the emails sent out. Then, they check the cash flow status, showing how millions have flown into the gallery’s account in just a month and that many of the paintings have been bought by Dante himself. Harlow pulled out the crumbled papers from his pocket and screens through the papers hurriedly. “Alessandro, Dante says that this was his attempt at money laundering, and he succeeded with Amber’s help,” Harlow shakes h
My Mafia Man Chapter 54: Back To Square One
“What statement, Amber?” Alessandro questions. She lets out a sigh. “I swear I saw it,” she says. “Let’s agree that you did. But why didn’t you tell me that you visited him?” Alessandro’s disappointment flashes in his eyes. “I didn’t want his blood on your hands. Besides, I wanted to deal with the whole family drama on my own,” she says. “Wait, you can ask your guards, I had them tag along with me,” she demands. Alessandro questions the guards, but none of them are on Amber’s side, they all denied her words. “Alessandro, trust me. I don’t know what’s going on!” Amber shrieks. She grips the guards by the collar and pushes them back and forth, but they don’t budge. “Alessandro,” she looks at him, her eyes still dry, hesitant to believe that this is real. “Amber…I don’t know what to say anymore,” he drops the glass to the floor and it shatters, “I don’t want to believe that any of this is real, but everything around us says otherwise.” “Think it through, Alessandro, why would I ever b
My Mafia Man Chapter 55: Nothing Can Tear Us Apart
The heavy downpour drenches Amber completely. She recalls the time she first saw him, he was scary but attractive, and now, she’s back to the point. The point where it all started. “My mother always told me that I’d melt the coldest hearts with my fire, but I guess she was wrong,” Amber mumbles as tears drop into the puddle formed next to her leg. Her tears drop like shards of crystals. Her vision was cloudy and everything was spinning. The Next Day Amber’s pov: Everything feels surreal. My eyes open. He’s gone. I’m accustomed to seeing him playing with my hair, or fixing his gaze on me to memorize every little detail of my face. But, right now, all I see is my mother’s face and a soft mattress under me. My clothes are dry and so is my hair. I touch them to make sure that it’s real. I’m at my art gallery? I open my eyes wide and look around. There’s no one in the art gallery; just me. I get up on my feet and walk close to my mother’s portrait which I had modified into the wallpa
My Mafia Man Chapter 56: A Long Time Ago
Two Years Later “Madame, we’re up next,” a man in his thirties tells a drop-dead gorgeous woman. “How much time do we have on stage?” She questions, her voice demanding. “About ten minutes,” the man says checking his wristwatch. “Mhm,” she licks her lips to wet them as she puts on a beautiful pendant. She looks at herself in the mirror, her fingers tenderly tracing the pendant. “Why do you always have that on, madame?” The man asks out of curiosity. “Someone gave it to me…A long time ago. It is a promise that I hope he lives up to every single day,” she smiles. “And I believe that he does. He can love no other the way he loved me,” the air of confidence around her intimidated the man. The announcer speaks, “Here comes the gorgeous, talented and witty, Amber Bianchi.” Amber sways her hips from side to side, her long black hair which is now straight moves with her hips, and as she reaches the center of the stage, she thanks the announcer and curls her fingers around the microphone.
My Mafia Man Chapter 57: Her & I
Alessandro’s pov: I’m well aware of what I’m doing. I am conscious, but she intoxicates me in every possible way. Her bright brown eyes, still have a fire in them, her hair is now long and straight and her neck is still decked with the jewel that I gifted her as a promise. I have lived up to it. I’ve been hers and only hers. I cannot love another the way I’ve loved her. She stomps away, but I grab her arm to face me. The cameras are flashing. No one knows about what has been going on with us. We’ve never come face to face in the past two years, not privately, not publicly. Everyone still believes that we’re a power couple. That we’ve had no downs in our relationship. Everything is like a fairytale, but they don’t know anything. “I need a minute,” she whispers freeing herself from my grip. A minute, an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year, everything has passed by, and I’ve realized how wrong I was five months ago. Five Months Ago: “Alessandro, you’re still painting?!” Harlow scr
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