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20. To Interrupt the Show
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2025-06-06 08:01:30The call ended with Charlie’s panic still echoing in my head, full of all the things I didn’t want to hear right now. I didn’t even have time to process what I’d just admitted before a sharp knock landed on the door like a warning shot.
Three quick raps.I shot to my feet and shoved the phone under the pillow. “Just a second.”The voice that answered didn’t sound like it liked waiting. “I wasn’t asking.”The door creaked open before I even reached it.Isla stood there, silver hair falling in a straight, ruthless sheet, lips the color of dried blood, and boots that could crush bones. She didn’t bother stepping in.She just held out a black hanger with a thin, shimmery slip of a dress dangling from it like a threat. “Shower. Dress. Don’t keep them waiting.”I frowned in confusion. “Them?”“Clients,” Isla deadpanned. “You’ve got a booth tonight.”Right. That. I’d almost forgotten the cover I was working
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When the Mafia Lord Falls 21. Tell Me What You Want
The silence between us was louder than the music still pulsing behind us. I didn’t dare look back. Not at the booth, not at the other dancers, not even at Isla, though I could feel her eyes searing a warning into my spine.Elian didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. His presence guided me like a hook beneath my skin, dragging me in his wake, through the hallways, past velvet ropes and guards who looked away the moment they saw him.We took a different elevator, this one required a keycard. He slid it without a word, and the doors sealed shut behind us with a hiss that sounded too much like finality.Just him.Just me.And the soft hum of the ascent.I tried not to fidget. My fingers twitched against the hem of my too-short dress. The flip phone was still in his hand. I couldn’t stop staring at it.He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. Just stared ahead at his reflection in the mirror-paneled walls like a statue car
When the Mafia Lord Falls 20. To Interrupt the Show
The call ended with Charlie’s panic still echoing in my head, full of all the things I didn’t want to hear right now. I didn’t even have time to process what I’d just admitted before a sharp knock landed on the door like a warning shot.Three quick raps.I shot to my feet and shoved the phone under the pillow. “Just a second.”The voice that answered didn’t sound like it liked waiting. “I wasn’t asking.”The door creaked open before I even reached it. Isla stood there, silver hair falling in a straight, ruthless sheet, lips the color of dried blood, and boots that could crush bones. She didn’t bother stepping in. She just held out a black hanger with a thin, shimmery slip of a dress dangling from it like a threat. “Shower. Dress. Don’t keep them waiting.”I frowned in confusion. “Them?”“Clients,” Isla deadpanned. “You’ve got a booth tonight.”Right. That. I’d almost forgotten the cover I was working
When the Mafia Lord Falls 18. Price of A Story
The hallway above Evergarden was almost too clean for a nightclub. No trace of the sweat and liquor downstairs. Even the air smelled faintly of bleach, leather, and whatever cologne the bouncer ahead of me was wearing. He didn’t speak as we walked, just climbed the stairs with me following behind. No introduction between us. Perhaps he was expecting me to get kicked out next week. Hopefully, because that meant I would still be alive by then.He stopped in front of a door with number 304 in it and keyed in a code. The lock beeped softly and clicked open. He turned just enough to glance at me, face unreadable. “Your key code’s the last four digits of your Social. If you need anything, ask for Juno at the front desk. No outside visitors unless cleared by Isla.”“Got it.” I muttered, silently remembering what my fake Social number was. He didn’t say anything else and just walked off like he had a dozen other things to do, and I was already one too
When the Mafia Lord Falls 17. No Way Out
Elian signed the check with a single, deliberate stroke. His name stretched across ten million dollars like it meant nothing more than a normal paper. Not blood. Then, he stood and slid it across the table.Galli snatched it before the ink dried, his fingers twitching like he’d been starving for it. He looked like a greedy, dirty rat. The kind of man who wouldn’t flinch cutting someone open if it meant a bigger payday.Elian didn’t even glance at him as he muttered, “Let’s go.”Jodie was already halfway to the door, phone in hand, thumbs flying across the screen with mechanical focus. I followed them briskly, knowing damn well what staying behind would mean. Galli’s men stood like shadows wrapped in designer suits. I didn’t look back, but I felt them. Their eyes clung to me despite Elian’s jacket, sticky and cold.Outside, the air hit like a slap from the rain. Cool, damp, sharp enough to remind me I was still alive.The black SUV waited
When the Mafia Lord Falls 16. Ten Millions for What?
The one called Luca, the same bastard who’d spilled the drink on me earlier, stood at Galli’s shoulder. His gun unholstered, leveled with clinical precision at my head. His partner aimed an identical muzzle at Jodie.It wasn’t the first time I’d had a gun to my head. Occupational hazard. Came with the territory. But a cold sweat still dotted my brow, panic began to swirl like silt in dark water, and my stomach flipped ugly. It had been years since I’d been a detective with a gun in my hand instead of aimed at it.The same couldn’t be said for Jodie. That woman was giving cool, calm, and collected a run for its money. Her face was drawn, mouth tight. Either she was used to this or she had good reason not to worry.I prayed it was the second.Then, I saw Elian pull the gun from behind his body. A motion fluid, practiced, and laced with a violent sort of grace.It was the Glock 17 from before. I knew that model well
When the Mafia Lord Falls 15. She's Not A Part of This
The suited man returned, a dark bottle of something too expensive to pronounce cradled like a fragile family heirloom between his gloved hands.“Ah,” Galli murmured, eyeing the bottle with a crooked grin. “Dalmore 62. A fitting pour for a man like you, Morgenstein. Rare, aged in secrecy, with just enough burn to keep people honest.”Elian said nothing. He merely watched, lips a still line, as the suited man began to pour.He started with Galli, tilting the bottle expertly, a neat stream of amber liquid catching the light as it spilled into the crystal glass. Then to Jodie, whose fingers curled loosely around the stem, eyes fixed on the table. Then to Elian.When the suited man reached me, though, his hand twitched. The drink splashed sharply over the rim, half in my glass, the rest cascading down the front of my dress like molten honey. Cold, sticky, humiliating.I gasped. The thin, rain-damp fabric clung to my skin, now darker with the spill, outlining my bra in stark relief beneath t
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