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Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three: Threads Of the Vulture
Last Updated:
2025-08-15 16:35:03
Jhumie_writesPower, in Emilia’s world, is no longer just about guns, blood, and alliances, it’s about presence, command, and the ability to bend even a man like Lucien Moretti to her will. This chapter was about more than lust; it was the moment Emilia claimed her throne, not in the boardroom, but in his mind and in his blood. From here on, she’s not just surviving in the Moretti empire… she’s shaping it. And trust me, the empire is about to shift in ways no one saw coming.
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Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three: Threads Of the Vulture
The sunlight in the Moretti estate was different in the mornings, softer, but still touched with the kind of sharp clarity Emilia had learned to notice in this house.Even here, shadows meant something.Lucien sat at the head of the small round table in his private study, a mug of untouched coffee in front of him, one hand resting lightly against his jaw. He wasn’t brooding, not exactly, but watching. Watching her. Watching everything.Emilia slid a folder across the polished wood toward him. “This is what I’ve found so far.”Lucien didn’t reach for it immediately, only let his eyes lower to the folder, then lift back to her. She didn’t flinch.Julio, leaning against the wall to Lucien’s right, shifted slightly. He’d been quiet since stepping into the room, his focus darting between the two of them like he was adjusting to the new… atmosphere.Lucien finally opened the folder.Inside, printouts of phone records, transcriptions, and Emilia’s own notes in sharp, neat handwriting.“I sta
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: The Queen’s Command
Julio left without another word.The heavy front door shut behind him with a muffled thunk, leaving the study steeped in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable.The kind of silence that hums when the walls have heard too much.Lucien stood for a moment by the table, hands braced against the dark wood, eyes on nothing. His mind was still moving, Matteo’s betrayal, the Vulture’s shadow, the dangerous narrowing of their circle.Emilia was watching him.Still in her robe now, tied neatly at the waist, hair mussed from earlier but her posture deliberate. She looked like a woman who could walk into a boardroom or a war council and be taken seriously, and that was exactly what she wanted him to see.He finally looked up at her, those black eyes sharp but tired.“You should get some sleep,” he said.Her lips twitched, almost in amusement. “I’m not tired.”Lucien’s brow lifted a fraction. He knew that tone. It wasn’t coy. It wasn’t inviting. It was… something else.She stepped closer, the sof
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One: Three in the know
Lucien didn’t move at first.The heat of Emilia’s body was still on him, her breath still warm against his ear, but the words… the words burned through the haze like acid.I know the mole.For one suspended heartbeat, he didn’t know whether to freeze or finish. Instinct and weeks of denied hunger won, his body shuddered in release, his grip on her hips almost bruising, but his mind had already shifted into a different, colder place.When he finally drew back enough to see her face, his voice was low, tight.“Say it again.”“I know the mole,” Emilia said, meeting his gaze without flinching.“Who?”Her answer was a whisper, but it hit him like a bullet.“Matteo.”For a second, the name didn’t fit in his head. Matteo, one of his top men, the one just beneath Julio in rank, the one who’d been in the room for some of the most sensitive decisions they’d made.Not the same trust as Julio, never that deep, but enough that Lucien had let him close. He even had him protecting Emilia. His expr
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Fire and Teeth
The moment Lucien’s hand closed around her jaw, she knew she had him.Not tamed, never tamed, but caught.There was nothing tentative in the way he came to her, no cautious testing of boundaries, no soft reintroduction after weeks of distance. He came like a storm that had been pacing the horizon too long and finally broke.The first kiss wasn’t a kiss at all. It was teeth and breath and the hot drag of his mouth over hers, a claiming that pulled sound from her throat before she could stop it. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, making her take him deeper.She didn’t resist. God, she’d missed him.Missed the way his weight pressed her down.Missed the rough slide of his palms when he didn’t care about silk or lace, only skin.Missed the way he could make her feel small, even when she was fighting to keep her own ground.The bed dipped under his knee as he pushed her back, following her down, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip the thin straps from her sho
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen: A Different Kind Of Trap
Lucien’s mood was a storm that didn’t pass with the closing of the council doors.It followed him down the marble steps of the old building, past the long shadows stretching across the courtyard, all the way to the car.Julio was a silent shadow at his side, his jaw clenched tight, his usual easy smirk gone.Neither man spoke.They didn’t need to.The meeting’s stench still clung to Lucien, arrogance, opportunism, that particular smell of men who thought they’d sniffed out weakness.The gunpowder scent from the single shot he’d fired lingered in his memory, as vivid as the bright splash of blood across polished wood.Julio slid into the driver’s seat without a word. The engine’s low growl filled the air as they pulled out into the night.Lucien leaned back, watching the city blur past in the window’s reflection.Every streetlight lit his face for a heartbeat, then left him in shadow again.The rhythm matched his thoughts, flashes of faces from that table. Santiago’s stillness. Dario’s
Sold To The Mafia Lord Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: The Quiet Knife
The house was quiet in the late afternoon, the kind of quiet that stretched too long and felt wrong.Emilia had been in the training room for nearly an hour, sweating through another round of target practice Matteo insisted they finish. He’d been patient, too patient, correcting her stance, steadying her elbows when she wavered. Always with that easy smile that made it hard to stay annoyed at herself for missing half her shots.But halfway through reloading, he’d excused himself, “Two minutes, principessa, then we finish,” ...and slipped out of the room.At first she didn’t think much of it. Matteo was the type to wander off for water, a phone call, a snack. But when five minutes passed, then ten, and he still hadn’t returned, irritation won over patience.She set the pistol down on the bench and wiped her palms on her leggings. “Where the hell…”The house swallowed her voice.The hallway outside the training room was dimmer, the air cooler. She followed the faint creak of floorboard
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