All Chapters of A Pet for the Mafia Dons: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

Once Piers Delano took charge, things moved swiftly.And young Siobhan was also bundled along to the hospital, as someone informed her, despite her reluctance to go along with the strangers.Siobhan Sweeny was flustered. She never let anyone get to her, had never known what love was. As for making out, she had been too disgusted with the creeps who kept climbing into her bed when her ma was out, dead drunk, to want to chance it with a boy of her age. Fighting her mother’s suitors off ever since she had blossomed into a curvy young woman, with her long, dark hair and flashing green eyes, had made her curl her lips in disdain when her friends at school drooled over boys. Having seen and heard her Ma in bed with some of her men friends, Siobhan thought it looked and sounded gross.But the sight of the tall, broad man, older than her by a few years, in his twenties certainly, was making her behave in a way she had never reacted. When Rudolph had crashed onto her body, she had felt somet

Ria Delano was at her desk at Shangri La, going over the details of a conference that had just been held. Browsing the papers, she looked the picture of a working woman, thought her husband, the Capo, who had come in, silently, like a large panther. He would never get tired of looking at his wife, thought Philippe in admiration, his chest puffing out with love and pride. Ria wore a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, for her eyesight had suffered after the injuries she had received in the car crash, when she had lost her baby. Her long blonde hair was twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head, tendrils having escaped to frame her beautiful face. As Ria studied her phone and then flicked her eyes to the screen in front of her, she glanced up and noticed her husband. Leaning back and stretching, she arched her back and dimpled, taking off her glasses.“Don’t you have anything better than to stand at the door and gawk at me, Philippe the Capo?” she said, but her voice was teasing. A p

When Bianca walked into the Casino, she was instantly aware of the muted hum of activity in the place. She had begun to enjoy turning up before it was crowded with the people who arrived, eyes gleaming, an air of anticipation around them. A greed. A hunger.Now, the huge Casino was deserted. And Bianca loved it.She walked around, musing.In the afternoon, a casino feels like a stage before the curtain rises — hushed, dimly lit, holding its breath.The overhead lights are low, not yet dazzling. A soft amber glow spills across the silent slot machines, their screens looping idle animations, spinning cherries and sevens that no one watches. The roulette tables are deserted, the green felt pristine, numbers waiting for fate to spin them into relevance. Blackjack and baccarat tables lie still, chairs tucked in, cards not yet dealt.There’s an almost sacred stillness to the place. The carpet muffles footsteps — a deep, patterned red that has seen countless fortunes lost and won, though

Rudolph Delano sat in the large car as they headed to the airstrip. They were about to wing their back to Velgarin, the tiny city where Lucien Delano was camping. He ran a large hand over his face. Mumma, his Mumma, was also arriving in a few hours.And then, there would be fireworks, he thought with a grim smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Poor Claude, always at the receiving end of their father’s blistering tongue. Why did that happen? Rudy wondered curiously. He shifted in his seat and gazed at the car moving ahead. A chestnut head appeared at the back, with O’Grady and St Just on either side.Siobhan Sweeney, he thought.He shut his eyes, his groin reacting to the memory of the young girl with chestnut hair and the gleaming green eyes, the freckles on her pale skin.She had smelled fresh, unlike the perfumes that the women he usually spent nights with reeked of. There was a natural freshness to the young woman, and her skin…he had never seen anyone so fair, he thought i

The narrow alley in the heart of the crumbling Montenegrin neighbourhood was cloaked in shadows, the kind that seem to cling to the walls like old secrets. Cracked cobblestones crunch softly beneath the slow, deliberate tires of a fleet of large black cars, their engines barely above a purr. The lead vehicle—a matte SUV with tinted windows and the dull gleam of armoured plating—moved like a predator, silent and menacing.Behind it, more cars followed in a tight formation, their headlights switched off, guided only by slivers of moonlight and the flickering glow of distant neon signs. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and old oil. From shuttered windows above, no faces were visible, but the atmosphere hummed with tension, as if the entire neighbourhood was holding its breath.At the far end of the alley loomed the rundown hotel, its façade crumbling and graffiti-tagged, the letters on its rusted sign barely legible. A single bulb flickered above the entrance, casting a jaundiced li