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27. What's Your Favourite Position?
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2025-09-06 02:16:09Elian won the first hand. Full house. I had nothing. He leaned back, insufferably smug, and stretched out his fingers like a cat flexing claws.
“Favorite movie,” he said.Not a real question, just a statement tossed out like bait.“That’s what you’re opening with?”“You said I could ask anything,” he drawled, eyes gleaming. “And I’m curious.”God. Fine.“Okay,” I said, stalling a beat. “Well… I guess…”And then I winced, already regretting the words before they fully left my mouth.“The Holiday,” I muttered. “Legally Blonde. Magic Mike. And, um… Twilight.”“Maeve,” his grin was slow and savage as he purred, “That is tragic.”“They’re comforting,” I said quickly, a little defensively. “Nostalgic. Shut up.”“Tell me you also have an emotional connection to early-2000s pop while you’re at it,” he mused. “Dare I hope for Avril Lavigne? Or…” his eyes sparkled with malicious glee, “Hilary
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When the Mafia Lord Falls 29. Misbehaving Duchess
Of course Elian had a yacht.Of course.After the private jet, I should’ve known. A three-hundred-foot floating villain lair was exactly the sort of drama Aurelian Morgenstein lived for. I was starting to suspect he didn’t walk anywhere. Like, poof, he just arrived.And yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot which one was his.The marina was stuffed with gleaming white yachts, all lined up like Botoxed pageant queens. Names were scrawled across their shiny asses in delicate navy script. Greyson, Andromeda, and, God help me, Kraken My Heart. I was genuinely offended on behalf of the sea.Then I saw his.It didn’t bob or glitter. It brooded.Jet-black, sharp-angled, waxed to within an inch of its life. The deck was slatted in honey-colored wood and lit like a designer spa commercial. It didn’t look like it was meant to float. It looked like it was supposed to rise from the depths and eat the rest of the fleet.I caught the
When the Mafia Lord Falls 28. Never Stay at Four Seasons
There were two cars waiting when we landed. Sleek black Ferraris idled at the edge of the tarmac, engines low and menacing like they were waiting for someone more important than us.It took a double-glance at the Port Bellagio plates to remind myself I’d actually gone through with this reckless plan.I stepped off the jet with Elian at my side and Isla trailing behind, her steps uneven. She clung to his arm with pale knuckles and a wince behind her lashes.“Why are there two cars?”One of the blond, broad-shouldered twins already strode ahead, answering without breaking pace. “She’s riding separately,” he said, jerking his chin toward Isla. “Too sick for crowds right now.”I couldn’t remember which twin was which, just that one of them was named Mikkel. It might’ve been this one. Or the one still behind us. Impossible to tell when they both looked like they were carved out of the same mountain.“Motion sickness?” I aske
When the Mafia Lord Falls 27. What's Your Favourite Position?
Elian won the first hand. Full house. I had nothing. He leaned back, insufferably smug, and stretched out his fingers like a cat flexing claws.“Favorite movie,” he said. Not a real question, just a statement tossed out like bait.“That’s what you’re opening with?”“You said I could ask anything,” he drawled, eyes gleaming. “And I’m curious.”God. Fine.“Okay,” I said, stalling a beat. “Well… I guess…”And then I winced, already regretting the words before they fully left my mouth.“The Holiday,” I muttered. “Legally Blonde. Magic Mike. And, um… Twilight.”“Maeve,” his grin was slow and savage as he purred, “That is tragic.”“They’re comforting,” I said quickly, a little defensively. “Nostalgic. Shut up.”“Tell me you also have an emotional connection to early-2000s pop while you’re at it,” he mused. “Dare I hope for Avril Lavigne? Or…” his eyes sparkled with malicious glee, “Hilary
When the Mafia Lord Falls 26. I Didn't Steal A Jet
The matte-black jet waiting on the tarmac made a lot more sense.We parked directly beside it, not a terminal in sight. The driver—Mikkel, I learned when Elian addressed him by name—stepped out and started unloading our bags. Then he circled back to open my door like this was just a regular Tuesday and not an actual Bond movie.Elian stepped out, casual as ever, like this was all entirely expected.I slid out of the car, brushing my jeans, and crossed my arms against the wind sweeping across the tarmac. “You have a plane.”“Yes,” Elian’s voice was all silk and steel. “Quite a nice one.”I looked up at him, squinting. “Stolen?”He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t Grand Theft Auto, Maeve. I didn’t steal a jet.” He smiled. That slow, dangerous smile that meant trouble. “I stole the money that bought it.”I stared at him. Just stared. Blankly.In the past thirty minutes, he’d casually confessed to
When the Mafia Lord Falls 25. To Port Bellagio
We were going to Port Bellagio today. The car was already waiting a half block away from Evergarden, so we had to walk there passing hopeful club-goers queueing by the pedestrian. Elian walked faster. I had to half-jog to keep up. My legs were jelly, and my head was still swimming. All thanks to what happened yesterday. The reminiscence, the surrender, the desire to repeat it again and again despite it all. Everything felt too loud, too sharp, like my nerves had been tuned an octave too high.There was movement in my peripheral. A blur, then a burst of noise of laughter and footsteps, and suddenly some guy in his twenties broke from the crowd and stumbled into our path.“Wait—yo, hold up!”He grinned like an idiot, phone already raised. The flash hit just as I lifted my head. Blinding.Shit.My stomach plummeted. I knew that sound. I knew that flash. That wasn’t just some drunk idiot taking a selfie, but that
When the Mafia Lord Falls 24. Post-Coital Chaos
My blood turned to ice, heart skidding into my throat.Isla leaned against the doorway like she owned the place, arms crossed, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. “Seems like I'm late to the party.”I scrambled, dragging the sheet up over my chest as if it could somehow hide the fact that Elian’s body was still very much flush against mine. “Oh my God.”“So much for a warning, huh,” Isla said, dry as dust.Elian didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, he laughed. A really loud, shameless laugh.“She’s a cop,” Isla continued with a grimace, clearly relishing her role as buzzkill. “Or were you too busy fucking her knee-deep to notice the badge shoved up her—”“She’s not a cop anymore,” Elian cut in smoothly, still breathless, his arm casually slung around my bare shoulder like this wasn’t a living nightmare. “She’s a journalist now. Technically.”Isla arched an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be better?”Elian shr
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