All Chapters of Beauty and the Mafia Beast: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 𝔣𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔬 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯."— 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫.Eight years later…[ZEKE]I don’t like being tricked. But what I hate even more is when something I don’t expect happens. There’s nothing more infuriating than being out of control. If only at a single step. Elio’s face blends well with the white interiors of the private hospital room by the time I get there with Marco. When my gaze lands on him, he visibly flinches, even though I have not yet fired the bullet. He’s probably pissed himself, but I ignore him for now, diverting my attention to the woman who’s living the last moments of her life. An unremarkable face, dark hair that's matted from the days of imprisonment—and even then I know she wouldn't stand out in a crowd. She’s fo

"𝔗𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔡, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔪𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔶."— 𝔈𝔡𝔤𝔞𝔯 𝔄𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔫 𝔓𝔬𝔢[CAMI]I wake up with a groan, my back sore, my legs too stiff to move. After blinking a few times, I notice the ceiling isn’t familiar at all. Propping myself up on my elbows, I lift myself, wincing. The dull throb in my head won’t stop. What the fuck is this place? I’m on a large round bed covered with the softest mattress, covered in a smooth red blanket, a water fountain being the view in front of me through floor to ceiling high windows. The light in the room is warm, just perfect—something I imagined I’d have in my apartment some day. But this is not my apartment, and I absolutely do not remember coming here. I dig my fingers into my hair, shutting my eyes to focus. To remember. It all rushes back in like an acid reflux. The strange man in the hat. Being grabbed from behind, smelling something that knocked me out. F

ℑ𝔣 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔢, 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔴𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯.— 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫[CAMI]The minutes drag on. I don’t know how long it’s been—there’s no clock on the walls that are otherwise quite occupied with decor to tell the time. My stomach starts to rumble, waves of dizziness washing over. Shifting on the bed, I look over to the table where the platter of food lies. Once steaming hot, it’s now gone cold. And yet the sight is maddening. A growl erupts in my stomach. A reasonable voice in my mind tells me to eat. There’s no point staying hungry. If I wish to make an escape, I need to have my strength. About my escape though… I appear to have been imprisoned in an impenetrable fortress. I have not seen enough, except that the patio overlooks the edge of a cliff—a vast expanse of sea on the other side. But there’s no harm in assuming the worst. Our wedding is in four hours. The words return to me, just as they were said in that cold, deep vo

[CAMI]The dress fits like a fucking dream.Figures.It clings to me like silk was invented just to wrap around my body. Heart-shaped neckline that does all kinds of wicked things to my chest, the fabric hugging my hips like it knows how to sin. I stare at myself in the mirror and blink once. Twice.I look… insane.Insanely beautiful.I’m not humble about it. Never have been. I’ve never pretended to be the kind of girl who calls herself ugly just to hear someone argue otherwise. I know what I look like. I know men would sell their souls and maybe a kidney just to touch skin like mine. It’s pale—like, I burn in five minutes pale—and kind of glowy under the lights in that “is she an angel or a corpse?” way. My hair’s this silvery blonde that falls in waves like I actually drink water and sleep eight hours. My cheeks always look flushed, even when I’m not blushing, and my lips? Full, faint pink, permanently kiss-ready—at least that’s what people love to say, like I was born halfway thro

[CAMI]The bathroom door closes softly behind me.My skin’s still warm from the bath, pink and raw from scrubbing too hard. I couldn’t shake the feeling of that stranger’s blood on me. It wasn’t there—not really—but I felt it like it had sunk in, like it belonged to me now. The soft, white robe that covers me now probably costs more than my rent did when I was growing up. My hair’s damp against my back, strands curling at the ends. I feel better. Or maybe just emptier.The bedroom is quiet, except for the muted patter of the rain against the glass windows.Zeke’s still here.He’s on the bed now, sprawled across it like he owns the fucking world. His tattoo-covered arm is draped over his eyes, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The fabric of his black T-shirt stretches over the broad lines of his torso, and for a second, I just stare.Is he asleep?My eyes flick to the nightstand. Then to the tray that wasn’t there before. Or maybe I just didn’t notice it. Cut papaya. Figs.