Todos os capítulos de The Mafia's Kidnapped Bride: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

ArynIt was the morning of my wedding, and I didn’t feel like a bride.I hadn’t slept much. My head throbbed, my stomach was twisted in knots, and the skin around my wrists still burned where Lorenzo had pinned me. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t afford to. I just sat on the edge of the bed, silent and cold, while the world outside prepared for a day that felt more like an execution than a celebration.Then they came for me.The maids.Three of them barged into my room like I was some prized show pony who needed grooming before a parade. I barely had time to stand before they were tugging at my robe and chattering about how I needed to be perfect. Perfect for him.“Hands up,” one barked, and I obeyed like a damn puppet.My robe slid to the floor. The cold air hit my skin, and goosebumps raced across my body. I stood there, naked, vulnerable, while they bathed me with scented water and scrubbed my skin like they were trying to erase the parts of me that weren’t fit to be his bride.They waxed

LorenzoShe downed another cup of brandy like it was water—except water didn’t make people wince like that. Her face twisted in the kind of expression you’d expect from a child swallowing cough syrup. Definitely her first time drinking something that strong. She didn’t even try to hide her grimace, just reached for another glass with a determination that was almost admirable. Almost.I leaned back in my chair, swirling my own brandy slowly, letting the amber liquid catch the flickering chandelier light. Her hands trembled slightly as she tipped the next cup into her mouth. Brandy spilled over the rim and trailed down her chin, soaking into the expensive lace of the dress my tailor had slaved over for weeks. I could tell she was trying to get drunk enough to blur out the night, probably terrified that I’d fuck her just because we were now husband and wife.She didn’t know me yet. I wasn’t going to sleep with her. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could help it.Because she wasn’t *her*.The

LorenzoShe tasted good. So fucking goodSweet and delicate, like ripe cherries dipped in wine. My tongue chased hers with a hunger that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with control. Her body trembled under mine, and the moment she moaned—soft, helpless, almost reverent—I nearly forgot what the fuck I was here to do.Her fingers clutched at my shoulders, pulling me closer, and her hips bucked as if her body couldn’t get enough of mine. I smirked against her lips. The scared little maid who once flinched at my footsteps was now arching beneath me like she was made for it.But I couldn’t lose focus.No matter how tight her legs wrapped around my waist, no matter how good she felt or how soft her skin was—I had a job to finish.Evidence.This was about planting evidence.My mouth left hers, and I kissed my way down her throat, nipping just beneath her jaw. She whimpered.“S-sir…” she gasped.Fuck, that voice. Shaky and breathless like she couldn’t believe what was happen

ArynI was still staring at the painting.when the door creaked open.My breath caught.Heart hammering in my chest, I darted behind one of the stone columns near the edge of the hidden bath chamber. The steam rising from the water did little to blur the massive space, and I barely had enough cover. My back pressed against the cold surface, I held my breath as I peeked out just slightly.Lorenzo walked in.He didn’t hesitate. His hands were already unbuttoning his shirt, muscles shifting smoothly beneath olive skin. His arm—tattooed with dark, winding lines and symbols I couldn’t make out from here—moved with deliberate grace. He didn’t look like a man who rushed anything. He took his time.I should’ve looked away.But I didn’t.He slid into the bath, water rippling around him as he leaned back. The steam clung to him like a second skin, beads of water trailing down the curve of his chest. I swallowed hard, confused and ashamed at the way my body responded. What is wrong with me? After

ArynI was just about to dig into the last delicious piece of lasagna when the door swung open. A maid stepped in, looking like she was on a mission. I didn’t think much of it until she walked straight to Claudia, her presence almost commanding. She didn’t even need to say a word."Mrs Claudia," the maid said curtly, "Your husband requests your presence."Claudia’s face paled instantly. I watched as her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, I wondered if she would argue or ask questions. But no. Instead, she flashed me a tight, almost fake smile, before nodding at the maid."Of course," Claudia said in a calm, collected voice.She stood, smoothing down her dress as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and then she left, the maid trailing behind her. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me in the kitchen alone, still holding the fork that had been inches away from the lasagna.I sighed.The food had been perfect. Rich. Satisfying. The perfect escape from the cha