Semua Bab Agent 64: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Genesis P.O.V"Not yet." His smile did not reach his eyes. I did not think he had smiled in a long time. But they glint with some emotion that makes me shiver. I did not know what it was. "You will.”"Never."His smile widened. "You are coming to work for me." Is he insane? He found me taking out his cash and nowhere wanted me to come and work for him."I have a job.""Not anymore. As of this moment, you work for me, tesoro. Or..." He lets the threat linger unspoken. I know what he meant though. Or he would call the police and we let the chips fall where they may. I think he knew I could not take that risk, though. The bastard knows he was not really giving me a choice here.I think he loves knowing I have no choice and no say. I am his to command, his to control and I hated it but I have no other choice.He was a six-foot-three lion. And I think I may be the little lamb to the slaughter."Fine," I growled, giving in about as gracefully as a bull in a china shop."But I am not for sal

Riccardo P.O.V By the time we pulled up by the dock at the harbor, Dant was already there. He leans against the side of his Harley, skipping pebbles across the water. He did not even glance over his shoulder to see who pulled up. I did not think my youngest brother gave a fuck anymore. He tried for years to keep us together, but this way of life wears on you. By the time he had his accident a few years ago, he was not the same kid who spoke the vow. He is harder. Darker. We rarely see him unless he has no choice. I think he would have walked away from all of it if he could. Hell, which of us wouldn't? This life only brought us misery . We lost those we have loved and lived with our enemies. "You are early," I observed, striding across the dock toward him. "You are late." He lets another rock fly. It skipped three times before sinking, dragged to the bottom to rest alongside decades worth of evidence of La Cosa Nostra crimes. Merda. Ours were not the only secrets this harbor keeps

Riccardo P.O.V Dinner with Callandria was a quiet affair. We were both locked in our own thoughts, wrestling with our own minds. When she said she will do it I thought her agreement would satisfy me, yet victory feels hollow and empty. "Here." I slid my phone across the table to her once we had both finished eating. "You should call your grandfather, bella. He wants to know you are safe and that you are here because you want to be." She eyed the phone for a long, silent moment and then reluctantly picks it up. "2008 is the lock code." "The year I was born," she murmured. And the year Nico left the family. "You trust me with your lock code." "I offered you freedom, Callandria. It wasn't a lie," I said ,holding her gaze. "Until things are settled, you are not to leave the house or have contact with your family. Those rules are for your safety as much as for theirs. But I am not your captor. You are not my prisoner. You are going to be the mother of my child." "My grandfather wo

Nora P.O.V I moved carefully, each step light and deliberate as I made my way toward the living room. The tension was palpable even from the hallway. I did not want anyone to know I was there; the last thing I needed was to be dragged into whatever family chaos was unfolding. I pressed my back against the wall near the doorway, craning my neck just enough to get a glimpse of the room. Aldo Bianchi stood in the center, his posture as smug and self-assured as ever, surrounded by his men.The sight of them in the DiFronzo mansion was jarring, like seeing a fox in a henhouse. Robert was there, standing at the forefront with Dant and Riccardo flanking him. The other members of the family formed a tense semi-circle, their expressions ranging from anger to confusion. I edged closer, careful not to let the wooden floorboards creak underfoot. I did not need to see Robert’s face to know he was seething, his shoulders were rigid, his hands clasped behind his back in an effort to maintain contr

Nora P.O.V The sun cast a golden hue over the dining room, filtering through the sheer curtains that framed the tall windows. The table, grand and ornate, stretched the length of the room, covered with an array of breakfast dishes that screamed wealth, freshly baked croissants, glistening fruit platters, cured meats, and steaming pots of coffee. The clinking of cutlery against fine china was the only sound filling the room as the DiFronzo family began their morning ritual. I sat between one of DiFronzo’s men and Riccardo, an awkward position considering the unspoken tension that always hung over these gatherings. To my left, Riccardo leaned back in his chair, a picture of casual arrogance, his dark hair slicked back and his suit impeccably tailored even for breakfast. His tattoos were peering out from under his sleeves.He whispered something to Robert, who was seated beside him, just to the right of his father, Robert DiFronzo Sr., who occupied the head of the table like a king sur