All Chapters of Mafia Heir's Contract Wife [Mafia Games V]: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

[ D O M I N I C O ] The night is dead quiet as the car glides through the narrow roads. I'm getting cold, even though the windows remain shut. There's some tension between us again. I'm sure it's not just me feeling tense. We're still in the backseat, but I'm not comfortable with my bodyguards sitting in the front, probably eavesdropping. I press a button on my armrest. The tinted partition slides up and hides us almost immediately. I sit back and glance at her. Seraphine is half-slumped against the door, her face pale, eyes distant. Obviously maintaining eye contact is difficult for her at the moment. I get it, though. The question I asked her earlier is probably one she didn't expect to hear today. I'm itching to hear a real answer from her, but it's obvious that I'll need to pry it out of her myself in a more private setting. The memory and noises of her retching outside my car just minutes ago lingers, and it's turning into a gnawing feeling that keeps telling me somethi

TW: Mentions and graphic descriptions of kidnapping, assault, SA, murder, and other violent behaviors/crimes. Graphic content below intended for mature readers only! Read at your own risk. [ S E R A P H I N E ] “Ti stai divertendo, bella?” [You having fun yet, beautiful?] Despite the thick cloth hiding my eyes, I glare at the heavy, calloused hand on my thigh. It's Leandro Tomassini. Enzo's brother. Sitting right beside me. Having too much fun terrorizing me. Taunting me any way he can. Although I've only seen him in person a few times, I recognized his deep, slightly husky voice the moment he spoke, after three of his goons plucked me off that quiet and dim street. “Smettila di toccarmi.” [Stop touching me.] “Ooh... Ne abbiamo una esuberante, ragazzi.” [We got a feisty one here, boys.] Although my muscles and heartbeat remain tense, I stay put and keep my breathing steady. I flinch when his fingers start drawing random curves on my knee. I hate how warm and gentle he'

TW: Content below intended for mature readers only! Graphic descriptions of physical assault, SA, and other violent behaviors may be included in the narration. Read at your own risk. [ S E R A P H I N E ] Is this my last day on Earth? I don't know what'll happen to me tomorrow. I already feel half-dead. Skyrocketing anxiety isn't solely to blame. Or stress. Or the fear gripping me deep inside. The loud, malevolent thoughts eating up my will to live... I'm just trying my best to convince my brain that I'm not dying tonight. Where the heck are we? This place isn't familiar at all. Like the town we just passed. It's rural. No bodies of water. Mostly oleanders and olive trees and wide, quiet fields. Not a lot of modern houses. Definitely not in Lagria or any other places in the south. If we're somewhere in the middle, then we're a little closer to the people who know me. And where I work. Where I live. The only people who know my family. The few people who give a crap whether

[ D O M I N I C O ]I sit beside my beautiful, smiling wife. We're alone in the kitchen, about to be done with our brunch. Like the rest of the house, this room is mostly white and not cluttered. Thanks to her. She runs this place day and night. I let her because she's the boss around here. I know better than to pretend it's the other way around.It's a modest house, but cozy. Who needs a mansion, anyway? Our home is nestled in a quiet town far away from the chaos of Florence. Here, everything looks different. Bigger. Better. Brighter. Everything around us is peaceful—the kind of peace that's eluded us for years. “Isn't she the cutest, happiest toddler?” Sephie doesn't try to hide her proud smile while she sits across from me. She's watching our little princess.Like most mornings, Steffi is dancing in front of the TV. “Hungriest, too,” I quip after catching another glimpse of the slices of pancake stuffed in Steffi's tiny hands.“They still call it the terrible two's. Right? It

[ S E R A P H I N E ] Where is he? Is he still waiting for me? Standing right outside the door? It's been half an hour since our last conversation. Or a little longer than that. I don't think he used the stairs. I would have heard it. Despite my swirling thoughts, my nerves seem to have turned into an unusually long moment of calm. I actually don't feel that terrified anymore. Maybe because the weather's calmer. And because I'm all alone now. And I can't see his face. Or smell him. I'm still hiding in this guest bathroom. It's bigger than what I'm used to, and it's got an expensive-looking tub beside the windows. Every corner looks and smells clean, and the light bulbs look rather new. No cobwebs or anything. What's he doing? It doesn't sound like he's still on the phone. Or is he texting? Who was he talking to? Sitting on the cold tiles, massaging my strained legs, I stare at the windows again. I already tried to break them. Of course it didn't work. They're probably bulletpro