Semua Bab Beauty and the Mafia Beast: Bab 71 - Bab 80

[CAMI]When Zeke comes back, I’m already showered and changed into something soft and stupidly comfortable. The halter dress is a sad heap on the floor. He looks at it before he looks at me and frowns.“I wanted to take that off you,” he says, tone flat.He’s holding a plate—chocolate cake. Of course he brought the cake.I smile because I’m a sucker. “Thank you,” I say, stepping forward to take it. “Just what I needed.”“You don’t need me?” he asks, not missing a beat.You weren’t here when I needed you, the unfair part of me shoots back, but I decide on sharp instead. “No. You can go.”I start back to the bed and his hand clamps my arm. He pulls me against him so fast I almost drop the plate.“That was rude,” he says, breath in my hair. “You know if I could’ve come sooner, I would have.”“No,” I tell him, shrugging. “I don’t know that. And you waited until the wedding was over. Luzia left; Vance and Vincent left. Fine. It’s not that. It’s that you chose not to dance with me.”He laug

[ZEKE]I should’ve said no.I had said no. But then she’d made those eyes at me before giving me an ultimatum. I won’t ask you again. That’s what she’d said. I know a threat when I hear one. And my pretty little wife had dared to threaten me. She just learned how to use the power she has over me. The truth is, she didn’t have to. I don’t think Camilla could ask for anything in this world that I wouldn’t give her. She’s mine, and she should have everything she ever wants.Even if it is wanting to meet your enemy, who is also her asshole of a father who treated her like shit? The answer is yes. If she wants to. Marco sees her follow me to the car and raises his brow. “Change of plans, boss?”I shake my head, not stopping. “No. We’re going to Vance.”He shrugs, and a smirk draws up on his face. He’s not surprised, but he’s amused. Along the way, I’m not thinking of what trap could be awaiting us, what danger or betrayal Vance has in store. I’ve already seen the board. Every move he thi

[CAMI]I don’t know what I expected from that visit. Maybe it was closure. Or maybe it was just an opportunity to rile up my father. What I didn’t expect was to leave with a fucking knife in my heart. Vance’s words at the wedding are still lodged painfully in me, and as much as I hate admitting it, they stuck. I swore I wouldn’t let him get under my skin. That he’d never see me break. But then he showed me a portrait of my mother—my dead mother—smiling down from his walls. I’m sure she never posed for it—well photoshopped. And then Jake. Jake in the ground. A headstone complete with a neat little epitaph.He has a sister. She’s just sixteen. Does she know he’s dead? If she does, what lie did they feed her? My chest feels tight just thinking about it.By the time we’re driving back, the weight of it all—my nightmares, my mother’s face, Jake’s grave—crushes me so hard I feel like I’ll scream. I sit in silence, fists in my lap, refusing to look at Zeke because if I do, I’ll lash out. An

[CAMI]Zeke’s still stroking my cheek with his thumb, watching me too closely. I look away afraid that he can see through me, forcing down the lump at my throat. His voice becomes softer. “What happened, doll?”I dare myself to take another glance at him. No, I don’t think he knows about the test. I really hope he doesn’t. I sit up slowly. “I wasn’t feeling well,” I tell him finally. “But I’m fine now.”He nods once but doesn’t get off the bed or stop touching me. Since we got back from Vance’s estate, everything between us has been… quieter. Hesitant. Held back. But he still holds me at night. Still kisses me like he means it. Still fucks me like he owns me.I wipe the drool from my mouth with the back of my hand. “I went shopping with Vivienne,” I say, hoping to ease out the tension. “I know.”Of course he does. Zeke knows every movement inside this house—every door that opens, every car that leaves, every person that breathes. For a second—I don’t know why—I look at him and the

[CAMI]Zeke is asleep on my naked chest, one arm wrapped around my waist like I’ll disappear if he loosens a muscle. His face is tucked right between my breasts, warm breath against my skin, hair tickling my sternum. One of his legs is thrown over mine, and he looks so unbothered, so deeply at peace, that for a moment I forget what world we live in. I drag my fingers through his hair slowly, letting the strands slip between them. He sighs, and something in my chest contracts so painfully it almost feels like guilt.It’s been hours since the meeting. Hours since I stormed in like a crazy person, and he pulled me into him like I was oxygen. Now we’re here—warm, naked, tangled in each other—and I force myself to look away from his face because it bends my rationality in ways I’m starting to resent. I’m angry at myself for giving in so easily. Angry that he can stay away for days, functioning, doing whatever monstrous things Dons do, while I lose my mind the second he disappears. When it c