บททั้งหมดของ Stolen by the Mafia Boss: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

CaterinaI could feel it in my bones... that kind of chill that wasn't just about how low the temperature was, but rather about the power that came from every... no, that was too much... most of the men in this place.Old, ruthless power.It stepped into the marble floors, clung to the velvet chairs, and hung in the still air like some sort of whispered threat.We were ushered to a seat at the long, polished table in the room that looked like it had once belonged to a kind. There were portraits of long dead men lining the walls for reasons I couldn't even think of.Who would want a dead man to preside over their meetings? Were they set in some sort of old ways that required them to call upon the dead men for wisdom or shit like that?To say the whole thing was disturbing was kind of an understatement. I hasn't said a word since we entered. Neither had most of the other men at the table. Only Luca’s voice cut through the silence now, and then... quite measured and confident... as he e

Caterina.Unfortunately, I had become Luca's shadow.No matter where he went, I was there. Every single meeting he attended, with men who were either suck ups to him or just cold in general, who acted like I didn't exist unless it suited them. Every single blood soaked, chandelier room where the wonderful hosts had eyes that were so cold and hands too sharp.Did he bring me to those meetings as a sort of protection, or he just wanted to punish me over my refusal to talk to him?Either way, I hated it.Caterina De Luca, aka Me, had been reduced to a handbag. Luca’s living accessory.When he started this whole charade, it was tolerable. I stuck close to his side, keeping one hand free to graze his jacket, whole my eyes darted around the room, searching for familiar threats. But as the days dragged on, and the stares from the others grew even longer, it became rather exhausting. Why were the men whispering behind their raised glasses? Surely, they did not think Luca would do anything to

Caterina.The silence of the hotel room buzzed against my skin. Luca’s breathing was already steady when I woke up, his body warm beside me, as he practically had me in his arms, almost squishing me.The pouch was still inside my purse. Untouched, and unspoken for. Its presence there felt like a live wire, like a bomb that was ready to explode, shocking me every single time my thoughts drifted back to it."You want to be free, don't you?" The man's words slithered back into my brain with full force. "You're not like them. Just a drink. One drink would do the work."Better people would have discarded it the moment they left that restroom. Better people would wonder what those people actually wanted to do with a sleeping Luca.Kill him?Torture him?Was I so open to the idea of leaving that people were not even scared of approaching me so they could use me as some sort of prop for their plan?And what if this was poison?Why was I believing a random man I met in a party for a brief seco

Caterina.There it was... the damn pouch I had been looking for. For three whole days now. It lay on the table like a corpse. I could barely breathe.I hadn't even noticed Maria step out of the room, hadn't heard the heavy door click shut. Had she known about this intervention by her brother? Why didn't she warn me or say something or even ask a question so I would know what was up? All I could hear now was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears and the voice that still echoed."You were going to kill me?"Luca was silent now, standing across the table, his hands braced on either side of the little velvet bag like it was a bomb about to go off at any second now. His chest rose and fell, in that deliberate and measured manner... way too calm for what was turning behind those dark eyes.My throat became instantly dry. "I wasn't going to do it, Luca."Luca looked up at me slowly.“And I’m supposed to believe that?”"I didn't even know it was a poison at first... he just told me to use it

Caterina. "Dead."The word came from the doctor's lips like it was a new form of gunshot. But one that was much more quieter, and dressed in a more polite yet cruel tone."Dead."That was the only thing I heard from the sentence. Not the rest, or the soft condolences or even the clinical kindness that had been etched into them and meant for me, to cushion the blow.Just that word.Dead.The same Alicia who had given me a hearty laugh this morning after I told another stupid joke. The same Alicia who asked me if she should dye her hair pink or purple just so she piss off the prudes in wherever she ended up in. She had even promised to bake me cookies this evening.Gone.No, she could not be gone. How could she be gone?The doctor’s mouth was still moving. Papers were being offered, and forms were made for me to sign. Alright, that was one. Words like sorry and peaceful and liver failure were being spoken in gentle tones, but they all slid off my ears like they were oil on water.I was