Todos os capítulos de The Mafia's Kidnapped Bride: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Aryn I had expected hell. I mean, I always seem to make it. What I got was gilded chaos wrapped in champagne and secrets. The party was already in full swing by the time Lorenzo led me down the marble staircase. A live string quartet played something elegant and soulless, and waiters floated through the room with trays of wine and tiny bites no one actually ate. It was like stepping into a fever dream—Versailles if it had been redecorated by the mob. My gown—black velvet, slit high, neckline low—clung to me like a threat. Zara, the professional stylist Lorenzo had hired, had done my makeup so precisely I hardly recognized myself. She’d arrived the day before, all sleek efficiency and barely-contained curiosity, hired to "polish the edges," as Lorenzo so kindly put it. And she had. At least on the surface. But there was no fixing the way I clutched the railing like it might save me from drowning in this ocean of snakes. Lorenzo was calm beside me—black suit, no tie, ice for blood

ArynI was still shaking.Not from fear—fuck no. I’d stared fear in the face too many times to flinch now. This was something else. Something darker. Anger, maybe. The kind that crawled beneath your skin and set fire to your blood. The kind that burned so hot and so long it became part of you.Lorenzo was gone.He’d left. Just walked out like he hadn’t watched me launch a crystal glass at his fucking head and scream that I hated him. Like I was a ghost, or worse, a nuisance he couldn't be bothered to deal with.No shouting. No “calm down, Aryn.” No threats. No slamming doors. No cruel smirk and whispered punishments. Not even a goddamn look back.Just silence.And somehow, that silence cut deeper than any of the sharp-edged words he used to throw at me like knives.He always knew how to keep me in line without ever really touching me. That was the worst part. He didn’t need to chain me to a wall to make me feel caged. All he had to do was look at me a certain way—calm, cold, knowing.

ArynThe silence after he left was… overwhelming.Not just quiet—truly, hauntingly silent. It settled like dust in the air, slipping into every crack of the room. Into the walls. The furniture. Into me. My skin crawled as if the air had turned to ice. My ears strained, expecting sound, any sound. But there was nothing. Just the dull sound of my own heart pounding inside my chest.I stood still. Not blinking. Not moving. Not breathing much either. It was like my body didn’t know what to do—whether to fight or flee or fall apart. I stared at the door, the one that had somehow let that stranger in.Marcus snored softly behind me. Oblivious. Completely gone, like he'd been drugged or had drunk his own weight in liquor. He was laid out across the bed in a sloppy sprawl, one arm hanging off the side, the other tossed over his face. His mouth hung open, dead to the world.It made me sick.I finally forced myself to move. My legs were shaky, unsteady beneath me. Like I was learning to walk ag

ArynThe sound of the door unlocking snapped me out of my thoughts.I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I just stared at the wall, hollow and unmoving like part of the furniture.The door swung open with its usual slow, deliberate creak. I already knew who it was. No one else walked in like that—like they had time to waste and didn’t care if you did.Lorenzo.His footsteps were steady —calculated and silent, like a predator that didn't need to roar to remind you who was at the top of the food chain.He stopped near the table where the untouched tray of food still sat. The eggs had gone cold. The toast stiff and lifeless. The tea no longer steaming.“You didn’t eat.”His voice was calm.I didn’t respond.He stepped closer, the air shifting with him. I could smell his cologne—something dark and woodsy, like the forest after rain.“Don’t be stubborn, Aryn,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Eat.”I didn’t turn. Didn’t blink. Just curled my knees tighter into myself where I sat against the headb

ArynI woke up with a pounding in my head and a dryness in my throat like I’d been chewing on sand all night. My body ached in the way it did after restless sleep—twisted, unsatisfying, and heavy like lead. The light seeping in through the tall windows was too warm, too gold, too… unfamiliar.That’s when I realized something was wrong.This wasn’t the room I fell asleep in.The bed was bigger, softer. The walls were a soft cream instead of that cold, grey cement I’d come to hate. The air even smelled different—less like confinement and more like a goddamn spa. I sat up slowly, blinking as I scanned the room. Expensive, stylish, definitely somewhere rich people slept. I hated how much I liked it.Then I saw it.A box. Matte black, sleek as hell, tied with a blood-red ribbon. It sat at the end of the bed like a predator waiting for me to open it. There was a note on top of it.I picked it up, already prepared to roll my eyes, but my heart stuttered at the handwriting. Lorenzo.Aryn,I t