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Chapter Forty-Five: Fever
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2025-05-17 23:25:21
Jhumie_writesThis is the final crack before the storm. Lucien’s self-control is fracturing, Emilia’s desire is growing, and they’re both circling the point of no return. In Chapter Forty-Six, they finally collide. Be ready, for the moment we’ve been building toward.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Eight: Messy
He should’ve known the peace wouldn’t last.Julio was still half awake when Kira rolled out of bed, wrapped herself in the sheet, and padded toward the window. The city lights cut through her silhouette, casting her in muted gold. Her back was to him, her voice low and hesitant in a way he’d never heard before.“You should leave.”He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Leave what?”“Lucien. The estate. All of it. Lay low for a while.”His brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”“They’re going to come for him, Julio,” she said quietly. “And when they do, they won’t stop with him. They’ll come for everyone close to him. That means you.”He swung his legs out of bed, all traces of calm stripped away. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been on the frontlines since day one.”“I know,” she said softly, not turning around. “That’s what scares me.”“Lucien’s my brother,” Julio snapped. “I ride with him. I bleed with him. I die for him if it comes to that. You think I’
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Seven: A Moment Like This
The house smelled faintly of lemon oil and burnt garlic.Julio paused at the door, confused. He hadn’t been here in over three weeks, maybe longer. The silence inside was thick, but not empty. The lights in the hallway were dimmed, soft jazz hummed low from the kitchen, and his coat hit the floor the moment he stepped inside.He didn’t need to say her name.Kira stepped out of the kitchen barefoot, hair scraped up into a messy bun, wearing one of his old T-shirts that hung too wide around her shoulders. She wiped her hand on a dishtowel, her expression unreadable as always.“I thought the cleaner came,” he said, eyes skimming over the gleaming floors and the scented candles flickering along the hallway table. “Did you call her?”“Nope.” She lifted a shoulder. “Just me. Thought you’d want to come back to somewhere that didn’t smell like dust and old whiskey.”He looked around again. She’d vacuumed, done the dishes, and even picked up a few things for the fridge. There were fresh towels
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One hundred and Six: Liability
The conservatory was cold now.Not just from the storm outside, though that didn’t help, the glass roof trembled under the weight of the wind, and each crack of thunder rattled through her ribs. But the real cold was inside her. Settling deep in the pit of her chest. A frost that no fire could melt.Lucien had walked out and never looked back.Emilia didn’t blame him. She’d screamed at him. Called him a bastard. Told him she loved him in the same breath she accused him of becoming a monster.God, she had meant it.Every syllable. Every second. Every ache behind the words.But love wasn’t a shield here. It didn’t protect you. It didn’t soften the world, it sharpened it. And now, alone in the echo of her confession, Emilia felt something splinter.She pressed her palm against her chest, right over her heart, like she could contain it. Like she could force her body to stop remembering the way he looked at her. The way his voice had broken when he said she hadn’t lost him. The way his arms
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Five: What To Die For
The house was too quiet now. The kind of silence that came after a fight that hadn’t really ended.Lucien didn’t look back when he walked out of the conservatory.He couldn’t.If he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d go back in to finish the argument, or fall to his knees in front of her.Her words rang louder than the echoes of Julio’s accusations:“Because I love you, you bastard!”She had said it like a curse. Like an anchor.She had said it like a confession and a threat all in one. Raw. Unfiltered. It hadn’t been soft. It hadn’t been sweet. It had been a scream in a burning room.Lucien’s jaw flexed as he moved through the dim corridor, boots silent against polished marble. The storm outside was growing louder, wind clawing at the shutters, thunder rolling low like the growl of a warning.His steps led him toward the armory wing, where Julio had set up a new control hub, tucked into the old wine cellar. Reinforced concrete. One way in, one way out. No windows.Perfect for paranoia.Lucie
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Four: Weak Link
The estate was no longer quiet.It growled now, low and mean. Boots thundered across marble. New men filled the halls like wolves scenting blood. Every corner of the house bristled with eyes, weapons, suspicion.Lucien stood by the library window, jaw clenched as he watched another black SUV pull through the gates. Armored. Tinted windows. Reinforcements. Power players. People who didn’t need to knock.The council hadn’t sent word, they didn’t need to. They never did when the stakes were this high.Behind him, the room buzzed with voices and strategy, Julio murmuring orders to their lieutenants while two techs unpacked surveillance gear like it was holy scripture.“Three more arrived this morning,” Julio said without looking up. “Two from Marseille, one from Naples. All requested by the Upper Circle.”Lucien nodded stiffly.“House is on lockdown,” Julio continued. “No one leaves. No one enters. Not without biometric clearance and escort.”Lucien turned away from the window, face hard.
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Three: The House That Bleeds
The house was too quiet.Not the comforting quiet of safety, but the brittle silence of a place holding its breath. Shadows seemed longer. Footsteps felt louder. And every corner Emilia turned, she swore she could feel eyes watching, not just from cameras or guards, but from within the walls themselves. The estate wasn’t home anymore.It was bleeding.And the worst part? She wasn’t sure if it was Lucien’s blood staining it… or hers.She sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the vent above. The one Lucien had pulled the camera from. A small, jagged hole remained where the dummy cover had been pried off. It gaped like a wound, raw and violating.Every touch they’d shared in this room. Every whispered word, every moan, every time she’d reached for him in the dark,?they’d been watched. Recorded. Maybe shared.She clenched her fists and stood.She couldn’t sit and feel violated anymore. She wouldn’t.Lucien had left earlier, mumbling something about command checks and signal reports. He
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