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Chapter 49 — The Imprint

작가: Déesse
last update 게시일: 2026-04-09 16:53:37

Mike

The water is too hot, it lashes the skin, reddens the marks she left on my shoulders, my chest. I lean back against the cold tile, eyes closed, letting the jet massage my aching muscles. I should think about the day ahead. The files. The meetings. But my mind, traitorous, sees only her. Feels only her.

The scent of her shampoo, a blend of sandalwood and pepper, still floats in the stall, mingling with the musky perfume of our night. I soap myself mechanically, and the memory of her hands o
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  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   CHAPTER 55: Not Finished

    MIKEI have no intention of stopping.Her command still echoes in the damp air between us—wage war on me—and something primitive, definitive, solidifies in my chest. It's no longer a game. It's a claim. A conquest. The sweat on her skin gleams like oil under the low light, and she smells of jasmine, tobacco, and us, that musky, wild aroma we make together.My hips lower. I sheathe myself in a single thrust, so deep and complete our bones seem to clash. Her breath is torn away, her cry drowns in our kiss. She wraps herself around me, her legs encircling my waist like serpents, her heels burying into my lower back, pulling me deeper, demanding more.I start to move.It's not a rhythm, not at first. It's a punishment. An assault. I take her while pinning her to the mattress, each thrust is a blow struck, each withdrawal a threat. The head of my cock grinds against the most sensitive spot inside her, aiming with cruel precision. Her b

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 53 — The Echo of the Hammer

    MikeThe silence after the hammer blow is louder than any scream. A sonic void charged with the horror of what just happened. The scent of jasmine and roses mingles with the subtle, metallic smell of fear. And adrenaline.Kovacs is led away, his moans fading down the hallway. The dark stain on the marble table is not blood, but the sweat of his terror. Tara set the hammer down. The gesture was one of deadly grace. She wipes her fingers with a silk handkerchief, as if she had just finished a slightly unpleasant household chore.She turns to the assembly."Now, my dear friends, dinner is served."Her voice is velvet sheathing a blade. No one moves. They are petrified, eyes riveted on her, on the table, on the hammer that rests there, an object of nightmare rendered mundane.It is at this moment that I push off from the pillar. The sound of my soles on the marble floor breaks the spell. All eyes turn to me, seeking a guide, a reaction, a

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   CHAPTER 54: The War

    MIKEThe night blankets Chicago in a cloak of mist and trembling neon, but here, on the thirty-fifth floor, nothing matters except the electricity crackling between us. The city moans below, its agitated streets like a wounded beast, but in this suite with walls of black marble and sheets of scarlet silk, there are no more laws, no more rules—just us, and the weight of what we have just accomplished.The hammer rests on the coffee table, its mahogany handle gleaming under the halogen lamps, its head heavy and menacing like a reminder of what I had to break to get here. A symbol, yes. But not the one that counts tonight. Not when she is there, leaning against the onyx bar, her lips rimmed in a red as dark as the wine she sips. Her eyes—golden, almost feline—follow me as I close the door behind me, locking the world out."You took your time," she murmurs, her voice hoarse, as if she has already screamed my name a dozen times in her head.

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 52 — The She-Wolf's Judgment

    TaraPower is not asked for. It is taken. Mike did it with fire and blood. My father, La Morte, did it with frozen terror. I will do it with both.The incident with Giacomo sowed a wind of panic, but it was a whisper in the shadows. Insufficient. A public punishment is not a discreet murder. It is an opera. A staging where the audience leaves with fear embedded in their souls. I need a guilty party. Not a scapegoat. A real one. A traitor whose punishment will serve as an example to all.The opportunity presents itself faster than I would have believed. One of Mike's lieutenants, a man named Kovacs, responsible for a lucrative port district, has been caught red-handed. Not with money, not with a woman. Worse. He leaked information about a convoy to a rival family, the O'Sullivans. The convoy was intercepted, three of Mike's men are dead.Treason is the worst disease in our world. It is contagious. It must be burned out with a hot iron, before everyon

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 51 — Blood Calls to Blood

    TaraThe tea is cold at the bottom of my cup, a bitter residue that sticks to my tongue like the taste of their condescension. They are gone. Their expensive perfumes and their facade smiles have dissipated, leaving behind a void filled with contempt.I rise, scanning the room. Everything is luxury, calm, and… illusion. They saw a wife. A pretty upstart, a naive recruit who needs to be taught the rules of silence and submission. They did not see La Morte.My father's blood, a frozen and pitiless river, flows in my veins. I grew up in the shadow of blackmail, executions, smiles that precede the knife's thrust. I learned to count the lies in a gaze before I learned to read. And these women… these women think they are giving me a lesson in survival?A cold, silent laugh shakes me. Their Chicago, with its men's rules and its hiding women, suddenly seems touchingly naive to me.I am not here to survive. I am here to rei

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 50 — The Chicago Lesson

    TaraThe dining room of the private apartments is flooded with light, but the atmosphere is leaden. Around the polished mahogany table, five women are seated. They did not shake hands. A nod, a quick glance, that is all. The perfume—an oppressive blend of expensive flowers and something more acrid—fear, perhaps, or the habit of danger—floats in the still air.I am at the head of the table. The place of the mistress of the house. The new wife."Thank you for coming," I begin, my voice calmer than I feel.My fingers graze the rim of my teacup, a gesture to anchor myself. They scrutinize me. Sofia, Marco's wife, Mike's right-hand man. Madonna face, ice eyes. Anna, tied to the old guard, a sideways, wary glance. The three others, names, faces I have memorized, each a piece of the puzzle I must solve."I am new here. In this city. In… this life," I continue, choosing my words with the precision of a bomb disposal expert. "My husband has his responsibilities. I would like to understand mine

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 31 — The Language of Skin

    TaraSleep was a dreamless abyss, a restorative void. I do not emerge abruptly, but drift toward consciousness, carried by a sensation. A warmth. A presence. The weight of his arm, still across my waist, firm but not constraining. Protective.The room is bathed in the

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 29 — The Lesson

    TaraThe dress is a knife slash. A simple sheath of black silk, without any ornamentation, hugging my curves like a second skin, but without lasciviousness. It is severe, almost funereal. I have swept my hair back, a bun so tight it pulls at the skin of my temples. My only jewelry: diamond earrings

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 28 — The Art of War

    TaraThe closed door is a defeat. Its silence, a verdict. I stand there, naked before the mirror, my shoulders marked by the imprint of his hands. The tears that were falling have evaporated, burned away by a new anger, colder, more determined.Superficial.Weak.Gilded cage.Each word is a nail he

  • THE MAFIA'S FATAL ATTRACTION BOOK 2: A PRINCESS'S CHALLENGES   Chapter 26 — The War of the Senses

    TaraHis embrace is savage, absolute. His words are not a declaration of love, but a branding. The growl of a beast defending its territory. And a part of me, a dark, regressive part, rejoices. It is stronger, more real, than all the furtive glances of his guards. It is an affirmation of p

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