All Chapters of I Sold Out a Mafia Boss: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Angelo’s POVHow could my brother be such a dick?Just one mistake. One. And Ricardo acts like I burned his entire empire to the ground, like I destroyed something irreplaceable. That’s him though, always larger than life, always quick to anger.The bastard forgets all the times I’ve cleaned up his messes, patched his holes, or smoothed over his reckless tantrums. Ungrateful doesn’t even begin to cover it.I grab my keys, ready to leave the house, when my phone vibrates. I glance down to see the caller ID. It’s Antonella.I groan under my breath. As if I don’t already have enough of this family’s drama running me ragged. But I swipe anyway.“Hi, Antonella. What’s going on?”Her voice is cool and calm. “I’m surprised you didn’t call to check up on how the meeting with the anonymous tipper went.”Of course. That.I scratch my forehead, chuckling, trying to play it off. “I’m sorry. Been swamped. But now I’m free. So… how did it go?”“It was very productive, Angelo,” she says sweetly. “I

Ricardo’s POVThe recording ends, and I lean back with the glass of whiskey in my hand and my eyes on Angelo. His jaw tightens, then he stands so fast and shouts,“Fuck! That fucking golden prick!”The rage on his face is a pure and beautiful thing to see, why? Because I hardly ever see Angelo get this angry if it’s not over something I caused.“Calm down, brother,” I mutter.Angelo whirls on me with blazing eyes. “No, no, Ric, you don’t understand. He’s poisoned her. He’s poisoned Antonella’s fucking mind!” He rakes his hands through his hair, pacing like a caged beast. “She knows now. She knows you’ve been covering for me. He told her about fucking Mexico. Don’t you get it?”I swirl my whiskey. “There’s worse to worry about, brother. Much worse. I promise you.”He stops and glares at me like I’ve just spoken blasphemy. “Yeah? Enlighten me, Ric. Please, tell me what could be worse than Antonella Inzaghi thinking we played her for fools?”I stand and set the glass down hard. “Golden C

Charles’ POVAlma still hasn’t come back.I check the clock again even though I’ve already checked it like a hundred times. I am filled with dread with every passing minute. She should’ve been back hours ago. What was supposed to take an hour, maybe two has taken forever.I’ve already left her five missed calls with no answers. I grip my phone, staring at the screen like maybe it’ll buzz, maybe her name will flash across it, maybe I’ll finally hear her voice telling me she’s fine. But nothing comes.Fuck!Did it all go wrong? Was it an ambush? My mind races with possibilities I don’t want to consider. I don’t have Heather’s number. I don’t even have the address where Alma was supposed to pick up the recording. Every detail was kept on her end, and now she’s vanished.What if Ricardo has her?The thought makes my blood boil. If Borrelli got his hands on Alma, he’d make an example of her. She’d be screaming somewhere in a warehouse while I’m here pacing like a useless idiot.I rake my h

Ricardo’s POVShe thinks she hides it well: the defiance, the fire in her eyes, the little tightness of her jaw. She wears it like a sleeve, like a shield she can wrap around her trembling body. But I see through it.She’s breaking inside, like a fragile thing cracking under the weight of her own foolish choices. I can see it especially when I told her I was going to kill her. That was when the sleeve slipped, even if it was only for a moment. I soak it all in.I think I’m done with her until I remember what Angelo told me; the plan we just hatched. I need to get moving.I lean down to her level, watching her skin prickle under my gaze. “You walked in here with your phone. Where is it?”She blinks at me, startled. Then she tries to steady her voice, but I hear the tremor anyway. “Your men took it. They put it in a paper bag. Over there.” She jerks her chin towards the window.I stroll over, enjoying the way her eyes follow me. Just before I reach the bag, she asks, “What do you need i

Ricardo’s POVThere’s silence in the room. A silence I don’t often get in this house. No kids crying, no footsteps, no mother barking orders. Just stillness, and the sound of her breathing.Antonella lies beside me. Her body is curled into the sheets and her face is softened by sleep. For a moment, I study her as she sleeps.She looks fragile like this, and breakable. But I know she isn’t. She’s stronger than she looks, stronger than I ever give her credit for. That’s why I keep her close. That’s why I can’t let her go.But tonight, as sleep creeps up on me, I’m not thinking of her. I let sleep take me. And as it does, I see Lana in my dreams.The dream forms so vividly I almost believe it’s real. She’s standing in front of me with loose hair, falling over her shoulders. Her eyes, fuck, those eyes, they look like they’re begging me to fuck her.No woman has ever looked at me like she does. She looks at me like she sees right through my armor, right through the monster I’ve become. And