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Chapter 80 Curtain Call
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2025-09-17 10:20:06
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My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 80 Curtain Call
EmmelineWe spend the morning packing and the afternoon pretending it’s spring.The new glass in the pantry shines like a lie that wants to be forgiven. The chalkboard reads basil, sunscreen, patience, written in my hand on purpose.Maria hums at the stove, stirring home-made tomato sauce, because some rituals are laws. The kettle behaves. The house has learned better manners since it bled.Sebastian appears in the doorway with a banker’s box and the look of a man who made it out of a burning building by counting breaths.The charges died on impact once our lawyers showed their teeth and the beacons sang the right tune, but a career doesn’t grow back because a judge signed a piece of paper.“Compliance work,” he says, setting the box down. “Boring. Indestructible. No cameras.”“You say that like it isn’t salvation,” I answer, and he smiles, the tired kind, and lets Maria feed him until his stomach is bulging and his problems temporarily forgotten.Caterina moves through the dining roo
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 79 The Last Cut
AsherNew York welcomes us back with terrible weather and worse smells. As much as I want to go to Emmeline, I have to finish this.You don’t sleep between a war’s penultimate page and its last.We choose Pier 37 as our meeting place. Where they left Nico propped like a cautionary tale with a black-wax card on his lapel.Bruce stands at my shoulder. “You’re sure he’ll bite?”“He wants to be seen,” I say. “Newly minted heirs crave acknowledgment.”He arrives in a dark sedan. Three men with him. Two peel off too late when the first floodlight hits. My shooters own the angles. Lines of red dance across coats and make decisions for men who think they still have them.Luca Vescari steps out looking like a photograph of an uncle I never liked. Hair too careful, grief worn like cufflinks, a ring with the V pressed deep enough to make skin complain. He looks at the grey water, then at me, as if I should apologize for geography.“Asher Giordano,” he says, as if he’s naming a chess piece.I nod
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 78 Palermo Night
AsherThe stairs down to Santa Maria del Gesù sweat history. Lime dust, candle smoke, the wet breath of stone. Beneath the nave, the crypt opens like a throat. Men in black suits and old rings line the aisle.At the left of the altar, they have Alessia, wrists bound, mascara boiled into salt. A relic they plan to parade when the pledges kiss the ring.Bruce breathes once in my ear, his voice a whisper under my collar. “Two on the stairs. Three by the bowl. One, left niche, long barrel.”“Hold,” I say. “We go when the Confiteor starts.”The words roll out. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. The room bows. We don’t.CaterinaI count bones in the walls so I don’t run at the first sight of her. Then Alessia lifts her head and I am a child again, choking on a laugh we weren’t allowed.“Cati?” Her mouth shapes it, no sound.I want to tear the crypt in half with my hands. Bruce’s hand finds my hip without looking. “We’re getting her out,” he promises.Nonna is not here. Of course she is
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 77 The Queen’s Gambit
Emmeline“Nonna Vescari won’t come for trucks and ledgers,” I say. “She comes for weaknesses. So I’ll give her one.”Asher’s eyes cut to me. “No.”“You don’t know what it is yet.”“It’s you,” he says, and there’s too much love in it to bear. “So no.”I pick up the tin of black wax they left like a calling card and turn it in my hand until it squeaks.“She thinks women are currency. Wives, daughters, cousins. She thinks we belong to the ledger’s notes. Let her think that and come close enough to learn math has changed.”I set the tin down.“We send a message through the channels she respects. Propriety and prayer. A condolence mass notice, bought by ‘a friend’ in my mother’s maiden name. A florist order. White lilies and a black ribbon delivered to Santa Maria del Gesù with an old-fashioned card. And a private note to her fixer that reads like a confession.”Asher’s jaw knots. “What confession?”“That I’m tired.” I meet his gaze. “That the crown you put on is crushing what’s under my r
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 76 Captains’ Revolt
AsherThis is starting to feel like déjà vu. Being back in the warehouse for another meeting in less than 48-hours rankles, but it’s necessary.Bruce drops a woven basket in the center. “Phones.” He waits with that patient, immovable look that makes men remember they are mortal.“We’re done playing nice,” I say. “Their bridge hit failed. A team tried our back stair and left a stain on my pantry door. Sebastian is sitting in a federal room because someone put my bait in his pocket and waved a camera. This is not random.”DeLuca clears his throat. He always clears his throat before he crawls. “With respect, Boss-”“Say it without the sugar,” I tell him.“Sebastian’s a liability,” he says, words tumbling out once permission lands. “Let the Feds have him. We keep our distance. The Sicilians-” he tilts a palm, like we’re weighing produce “They’re offering routes. We bend the knee, keep our ports and live to fight later.”“Later is what cowards call never,” Bruce says mildly.Ferro leans in
My Runaway Mafia Groom Wants Me Back Chapter 75 Blood Debt
CaterinaHe makes me meet him in a side chapel, as if God is a better witness than lawyers.The church is one of those narrow, old-world pockets squeezed between laundromats and a locksmith that never seems to be open.Candles gutter in red glass. Plaster saints pretend not to listen. Bruce stands at the door and becomes part of the architecture. Hands loose, eyes counting exits. He moves a little stiff from the knife that kissed him this morning, but he refused to let anyone else come with me.My father arrives on time because he believes punctuality is morality. Black coat, darker eyes, two men who look like they could be carved from the same block as the columns. He doesn’t sit. He fills space the way old money does, with silence and disapproval.“Papà,” I say.“Don’t,” he answers, and the word is clean as a blade. “You forfeited it.”He looks at Bruce, then past him, deciding whether the man at the door is furniture or weather. He chooses weather and faces me again. “You embarrass
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