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Chapter 16 Qualms
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2025-05-21 18:42:44
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My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 68 Crosshairs
SebastianThe bar is one of those places that forgets its own name after midnight. I pick the table with my back to the wall and a view of the door because I used to mistake paranoia for a phase and it turned out to be a skill set.Bruce arrives without announcing himself. One second there’s a chair, the next there’s a wall of man sitting in it. Black T-shirt, clean jaw, the kind of stillness that makes other people fidget.He folds his forearms on the table. “Tell me.”I slide my phone across the scarred wood. He scans the screen from a distance, cataloging like he does doorframes and fire escapes. The photo of me and Emmeline on those courthouse steps. The spreadsheets.“They want me to step down from the Bureau,” I say.“Because you’re close to something,” he says, and it isn’t a question.“The account numbers are elegant forgery. The dates are almost right. The offshore shells are real, just not mine. If the SEC sees this without context, I’m radioactive.”Bruce reaches, opens a se
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 67 Heat in the Shadows
EmmelineHe locks the door without looking away from me.Click. The kind of sound that lands between my ribs and blooms there.“Come here,” Asher says.The coat slides from his shoulders, heavy with rain. His hands find my jaw like he’s checking the hinge on a door he intends to walk through.He moves first. No preamble. No safety rails except the ones we always keep for each other. Mouth on mine, pressure decisive, that bite-soft glide that strips thought and leaves the body fluent.My back meets the wall. My palms find his shoulders. He’s warm through the shirt. Solid. The kind of strength that isn’t just muscle but power.His hand brackets my throat, squeezing lightly, heat and claim, his thumb finding the flutter of my pulse. “Breathe.”I do. In on a three-count, out on a five. The world steadies and then tilts harder when he kisses the point under my ear that unspools my spine. My head hits the wall with a soft thud. He catches it with his palm and laughs like a sinner in church.
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 66 The Warning
AsherMy captains ring the long table like constellations I used to navigate by. Bruce stands at my right shoulder, a dark planet with its own gravity.Emmeline’s words are still in my blood. Put the crown on. Use every tool. I can taste them the way I taste her. Steel and honey. I’ve already made the calls, put men on schools, on routes, on the places my enemies sleep and pretend it’s safe. What I haven’t done yet is say it out loud.I open my mouth just as Bruce’s phone vibrates.He glances at the screen, and the small, bare shift in his jaw is enough to tell me the night just changed. He steps close, voice pitched for me alone. “Nico didn’t check in.”Nico. Forty-two. Drove for my father when I was still a problem in cufflinks. Taught me the quiet parts of survival. How to breathe through an ambush, how to keep your eyes up in a crowd.“Where?” I ask.Bruce answers with motion. We’re already walking to the car. “Something’s come up. Wait here,” I tell the room.We cut through the c
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 65 Pressure Points
EmmelineI’m halfway through a piece of toast when my phone starts vibrating across the counter like it wants to escape.Three texts from Sarah. Elias’s campaign manager.You seeing this???Turn on Cityline.We need you at HQ.I unmute the TV and the caption slaps me in the face. IS THE BOY SCOUT A BAGMAN? Elias’s smiling campaign photo sits beside a grainy still of Asher stepping out of a black car. The segment host has the smooth voice of a snake oil salesman.“Anonymous financial records obtained overnight appear to show a pattern of-”I don’t hear the rest. I’m already scrolling the linked article. Screenshots. Red circles. Arrows. A “timeline” that stitches unrelated events into a story where Elias is Asher’s friendly neighborhood money launderer.Asher appears in the doorway, tie loose, shirt sleeves rolled, dangerously sexy without trying. “What happened?”“Vescari happened,” I say, shoving my arms into the coat. “They’re hitting Elias. Anonymous bank records, out-of-context ph
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 64 Confession
CaterinaThere’s a particular kind of dark right before dawn when New York holds its breath and decides whether to behave.I stand barefoot on the kitchen tile, staring at the window like I can see Palermo through the glass if I focus hard enough. The espresso machine purrs and I pour without tasting. My hands are steady. That’s how I know I’m afraid.Bruce ghosts past the doorway, a mountain in a black T-shirt. He does it every hour. Checking all the doors and windows. The ritual should annoy me. It seduces me instead. A man who treats safety like worship is a dangerous prayer to answer.I’m not here for prayers. I’m here to confess.Emmeline pads in, hair braided back, Asher’s hoodie swallowing her small frame. She looks like soft sleep and sharp corners. Mrs. Giordano. The title sits on her like a crown she didn’t ask for and wears anyway.“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks, voice low. The house is full of men who will be awake soon. For a moment, it’s just us.“Not really.”I sink onto a
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 63 A Mother’s Intuition
EmmelineThe house is too quiet after midnight. I lie awake and listen to the faint hush of cars down on the avenue. My hand rests on my stomach like a promise and a threat. I am not prey. I am a mother. Those are different animals.Asher comes in at one twenty-three, tie in his pocket, coat open, winter air clinging to him.“How was it?” I ask.He meets my eyes in the mirror, loosening his cuffs. “Contained.”“Contained is not a report. It’s a prayer.”A beat of amusement ghosts across his mouth and dies. “I met the captains. Not all. A handful. Enough to make it clear things have changed.”“Did you say the words?” I sit up, knees to my chest, the strap of my negligee falling down to my collarbone. “Did you claim your crown back?”“Not yet.” He turns, taking me in like I’m a cliff he has to climb. “I won’t swing a wrecking ball through our life because a grandmother in widow’s black wants to play chess from Palermo.”“She nearly set fire to our son’s school,” I say, voice even. “She
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