All Chapters of The Don's Prey : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Claudia.I paced back and forth in my room, my anger and frustration growing with each passing minute. I had waited all through the night, expecting Alessandro to report back to me with some progress. But he hadn't shown up. Not a single message, not a single call. “Maybe he was really mad about what happened, maybe all that was said made him mad as well." The thought alone was disheartening. I didn't want that to happen any longer. I was tired, and stressed beyond all I had been seeing, but I had hoped, prayed even, that he wouldn't get distracted by my words, or in worse cases, give up. I just hoped he wouldn't let Marko get the upper hand. But it seemed my hopes were in vain.I walked out of my room, going to check if he had snuck in during the night. He always did that when we were together. He would show up, and surprise me with a high at night, and then we would make passionate love.Maybe he had arrived, but since we weren't in

Giovanna I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the haze of sleep. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, I was startled to see Marko's intense gaze fixed on me. My heart skipped a beat as I took in the sight of him sitting beside my bed, his eyes never leaving mine. "When did you arrive?" I asked, my voice husky from sleep. Then I frowned. “You scared me, you know? I didn't expect you to be here now you left less than an hour ago.” Marko's expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. "I got here a while ago," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You were asleep, and I didn't want to disturb you. I figured you needed the rest." I felt a flutter in my chest at his thoughtful gesture, but I pulled my hand away, not wanting him to get to my head. "You should have woken me," I said, trying to sound serious, but my voice came out weak, and helpless, making me seem like I enjo

Alessandro I stepped out of the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest. I had been planning this for weeks, trying to figure out the best way to get close to Giovanna without Marko finding out. But as I looked around the dimly lit room, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was taking a huge risk. The man sitting in the chair seemed huge, his broad shoulders and towering height making him look like a giant in the small room. He didn't say a word, just stared at me with an unreadable expression. I tried to greet him, but my voice came out shaky. "Hello," I said, trying to sound confident. "I'm here to see...uh...the person in charge." The man's expression didn't change, but he finally spoke up. "What do you want?" His voice was deep and rough, like thunder on a stormy night. I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. "I'm here to discuss a...a business proposition," I said, trying to sound as convinci

Giovanna I stood by the door, my suitcase packed and ready to go. Marko came out of his study, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "Ready to go?" he asked, a smile on his face. I nodded, feeling a sense of resignation. I had been looking forward to this vacation, but knowing that Marko would be with me the entire time made it feel more like a chore. We arrived at the airport, and Marko led me to a private jet. I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the luxury. "This is yours?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Marko nodded, a smile on his face. "I own a few assets, including this jet and a villa on the island we'll be visiting." I didn't bother responding, instead choosing to look out the window as we took off. Marko talked to me throughout the journey, telling me about the island and the villa we would be staying in. He spoke about the crystal-clear waters, the white sandy beaches, and the lush green

Alessandro. I had been running, literally toward this for months. Not just running from things, but running up, up in responsibility, up the greasy ladder that led to men like Carnito. My chest was still thrumming from the sprint when I stepped into the back room, palms damp against the strap of the bag. There were half a dozen of his men scattered around, faces like carved wood in the dim light. Carnito sat at the head of the table like a judge waiting to sentence or pardon, his presence flattened the room into an audience. “You were supposed to make sure you weren't spotted by the cops,” he said, not looking at me at first. “I told you, Alessandro, if anyone could do it right, it'd be you.” Praise from him felt like a clean strike of sunlight through grit. I almost smiled, but I kept it small. In our world, smiles get you bail money or a bullet; both are expensive. “Did you get it all?” he asked