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:SIXTY—NINE:
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2025-10-17 14:20:08
Latest chapter
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—NINE:
Perry’s povIt’d been days since my fucking wife had left the house and had barely been back. I couldn’t care less about her whereabouts because right now, all I cared about was my company, my money, and the endless list of things that were already spiraling out of control.The reconstruction of the building from the fire was moving faster than I expected. The contractors were on a tight schedule and everything was a reminder that the world didn’t stop for anyone not for grief, and certainly not for mistakes. I kept thinking if I could just stay buried in work, maybe I’d be able to forget the stench of disgrace and maybe… just maybe, give her the attention she wanted but that seemed like a long way off.I could feel the pressure building, and I hated it. It made my jaw ache, made my stomach twist— it wasn’t just stress; rather it was anger and frustration, that slow burning rage that hadn’t had a proper outlet in days.Then my phone buzzed and I looked at it almost immediately— it wa
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—EIGHT:
Imogen’s pov My breath came in shallow pants, my knees aching against the hard floor, but I didn’t dare move.Because he was still watching me.Blue eyes like ice, sharp and unyielding, and yet… soft in that one moment. The way his thumb traced my cheekbone, rubbing a drop of his jizz across my skin like he was painting me with his claim.“You did so well, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and sinful. “I’m proud of you.”The words hit harder than the orgasm I hadn’t even been given yet. No one had ever said that to me— not Perry or even anyone else. I felt something different in me— a feeling I couldn’t name but if I should say it, it felt like pride. Yes, pride!Like I wasn’t just being used, like I mattered, and the way Blond said it, like my submission was a gift, had my chest aching and my pussy tightening all at once.I should’ve felt dirty, kneeling there with his jizz dripping down my skin. Instead, I felt worshipped and owned, and like a slut I craved for more.“Stand
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—SEVEN:
Imogen’s povMy hands trembled as they went to the straps of the lingerie, pulling them down inch by inch. His eyes tracked every movement like a predator— making me feel naked long before the lace actually hit the floor.“Slower,” he warned, his tone sharp. “This isn’t about your hunger, princess. It’s about control and satisfying my hunger.”God! The way he said it, like I already belonged to him made my knees threaten to give way.The lingerie finally slipped down my thighs, gathering at my ankles. I stepped out of it carefully, never breaking eye contact.“Good girl,” he murmured, taking a sip of his whiskey, casual and devastating.The praise sent shivers racing through me, making my already heated body way too hot and if I was in between my thighs right now, I’d probably drown.He rose, his shadow swallowing me whole, and went back to the cabinet. When he returned, he was holding black leather cuffs lined with velvet, as he dangled them in front of me like a promise.“Wrists,”
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—SIX:
Imogen’s povWe entered the house and barely a word was said to each other. He had taken out a cigarette from his stash and had lit it up as I could smell it from where I stood.“You can’t just stop like it, Silas,” I queried.He didn’t say anything, instead he took in a quick draw of the cigar and went straight to the bar to pour himself a drink. “Really? You’re just going to ignore me all over again?” I blurted out.He still ignored me making me feel like I was nothing and that pushed me over the edge. I took my purse and walked to the door.If he wanted silence, fine. I’d give it to him.My hand had barely touched the handle when his voice sliced through the air.“Where do you think you are going?” He asked.“Home or anywhere far from here,” I said as I tried to keep my voice steady but it betrayed me.“It is late and you don’t need…”“Yeah, like you care?” I blurted out, cutting him off.The corner of his mouth curled upward— a smile like I’d amused him, like my defiance was a t
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—FIVE:
Imogen’s povI leaned back into the leather seat, my fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of my dress.He hadn’t spoken a word since the incident outside the restaurant. Not one. His hand rested on his thigh, the other rested lazily across the seat between us, but the silence wrapped tighter than chains.I was used to silent drive home but not from the one person I had craved the most and the silence was killing me.I stole a glance at him, his jaw was sharp, clenched, the faint scar at his lip deepening as his mouth pressed flat. Something brewed beneath the surface… something he wasn’t saying and I knew I had to get it out of him.Finally, I cleared my throat. “What’s with you?”His eyes shifted, catching mine, and for a second I wished I hadn’t asked because the look there was harsh and rough with danger and desire, wound so tight it made my pulse to elevate.He said nothing.I scoffed, trying to steady myself. “So we’re doing the silent treatment now?”Nothing. Just that st
The Mafia’s Housewife Revenge :SIXTY—FOUR:
Silas’s PovThe restaurant was quiet, with only the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off the glasses and utensils.At the far corner, a man in a black suit stood with a violin tucked beneath his chin. The first notes poured out— haunting, rich, a melody meant for seduction. His bow slid across strings with precision, playing only for us.I’d hired him because silence wasn’t enough for her. Imogen deserved music, beauty, and luxury.I had found out that she enjoyed listening to the violin and this was an attempt to get her to relax and be free.I’d bought out the whole place. Privacy was not just a luxury— it was a necessity. Imogen didn’t belong under the gaze of strangers. She deserved to feel like the world bent just for her.I adjusted the cuff of my suit jacket, the silk black fabric clung tight against my shoulders. The weight of the watch on my wrist ticked steady and precise, though my pulse wasn’t nearly so calm. I didn’t bother pretending to look at the menu; the moment
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