Lahat ng Kabanata ng Married Off To The Merciless Mafia King : Kabanata 191 - Kabanata 200

Rafayel Almost nothing surprised me.News could piss me off, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe it was a thing that came with having to watch your back every single minute of every day when you were unfortunately cursed with a psychopathic father who was always on the loose. He’d never made it easy for us. But growing up around him long enough helped us to see his crazy tantrums coming.You could tell me the Armenians sprang a surprise attack and raided a drop five minutes before schedule, and I wouldn’t blink. Tell me the Chinese government created some new technology that was liable to wipe out the entire human race in nanoseconds, and I’d swing a glass of Vodka and wait for the explosion.So, when Tikhon bounced into the living room with a fancy glittering black-and-gold invitation to dinner with Enzo Colombo’s daughter, a surprise bomb detonated in my chest, and “What the fuck did you say?” was out faster from my mouth than I’d ever said anything in my entire life.Tikhon laughed

Time was ticking, and that meant I had to coax her real agenda for this meeting out of her before my control slipped, and I ended up doing something we’d both regret.When she piped up, I noticed a significant detail that wasn’t there before: the constant twitch of her brows like an appearing and disappearing frown and the shift in her eyes, both telltale signs of anxiety.Avoiding my eyes, Leonora fingered the glinting rose gold infinity-set knuckle rings on her fingers, and I knew I was right. She was anxious but usually quiet.My theory might have been spot on, after all. She’d organized this charade to dig her claws into me and commit murder and was now growing cold feet, trying to back out.“Yes, please. I could use a drink.”Or not.Surreptitiously, I filled a glass and handed it to her, ignoring a strange zap that traveled like bolts when our fingertips brushed. For months, I hadn’t touched a woman, and venturing into celibacy wasn’t by choice. There was always something to tak

LeonoraMarco accompanied me up the stairs to Papa’s room silently. He was brooding, probably over the report I was going to give Papa. Nothing reached me until it passed through Marco, meaning he’d been adequately informed of the dinner I had with Rafayel last night.“Grazie.”I nodded and entered when he opened the door for me.As usual, the room was tranquil and organized, with every item in its designated place. There was something always warm and cozy about Papa’s room, and whenever I stepped into it, for a minute, I forgot who we were and the life we led. He liked to keep his guns hidden, though I knew there was a spare under his pillows. A force of habit.Sometimes, I thought he liked it too: the sobriety and peace of normalcy, without any pressure to keep watch behind your back twenty-four-seven.His bed was neatly made, with a few pillows propped up against the headboard, but a somber atmosphere settled over it. The room was shrouded in darkness, the heavy curtains drawn shut

In the midst of able-bodied killer-machine men, she was the only woman. And the only person with a Styrofoam cup of black coffee on the table. No pressure. It just made it look easy, like we were in the middle of fingers hovering over triggers and eyes glaring murder at each other.Among the selection of my men were Maxim and Vasili, and neither of them looked as enraged as I thought they would be. But others had it bad to draw blood.The room was tense, thick enough to smell the testosterone in the air. Russians and Italians in one room never made a good mix. We had history. Bad history. And what was the saying about history?It was never forgotten.But no heads were rolling yet, so that was a good thing. She had the dogs on a tight leash, and I respected that. As long as we remained civil, everything would go as planned.Her posture was a perfect portrait of authority as she offered me a curt nod and browsed through a stack of leather-bound folders with an expression unreadable.Tod

“So, you and your bodyguard, huh?”A faint smile touched her lips. “You handle pressure well.”“Is that mockery?”She shrugged, her eyes teasing. “Maybe.”“You should do a better job because I’m taking that as a compliment, and unlike you, I’m not selfish with compliments. You impress me with the way you navigate power plays like a pro. And I’m not easily impressed.”Her smile deepened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her shoulders sagged, and she grabbed the chair I’d occupied seconds ago before collapsing on it. When she peered up at me through thick, long lashes, I saw the exhaustion written all over her face.“Don’t tell me a one-hour meeting has you wrung out.”Leonora scoffed. “As if. Don’t flatter yourself. Three hours could have slipped by, and I’d be just fine.”“Sure. Your slouched back on that chair is so convincing.”“Asshole,” she murmured under her breath, but she was smiling.What was strange was how seemingly normal it was to make small talk after a tense meeting—like