The Mafia Devil’s Contractual Wife のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

~Guilia’s POV~ “Finally,” I muttered, slumping back into the seat with a groan of relief as the SUV rolled to a slow stop in front of the estate gates. Thank God. I was so tired I could feel it in my eyelashes. Rocco and Dante had made so many unnecessary stops on the way back, I’d started wondering if they were intentionally dragging out the drive. Checking security, talking to people, making phone calls like they were plotting a war. Honestly, it was exhausting tagging along, even as just the extra body in the car. The gates creaked open slowly, like something out of a movie. And then I saw it. The estate. And oh mio Dio (my God). The estate looked like a page out of a billionaire’s fantasy novel. The mansion stood tall and proud at the end of a winding driveway, with perfectly sculpted gardens on both sides and palm trees swaying like they were choreographed. Alina married into this! Everything looked expensive. Everything was expensive. “Alina è così fortunat

~Guilia’s POV~ Dante’s grip was iron as he threw me onto the bed, his golden eyes burning with something dark. Before I could scramble away, his hand wrapped around my throat again, pinning me down as his other hand ripped the towel from my body, leaving me completely bare beneath him. His hand unwrapped from my throat and pinned my wrists above my head, his grip firm and unyielding. “You want to play with fire, puttana?” His voice was a rough growl, sending a violent shiver down my spine. “Then you’ll learn what it means to burn.” Before I could retort, his fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. A sharp cry tore from my lips, but the pain only made my core throb harder. He chuckled low, mocking, as if he could hear the filthy way my body reacted to him. “Pathetic,” he murmured, dragging his lips along the shell of my ear. “You’re dripping for me already, aren’t you?” I gritted my teeth, refusing to answer, but he didn’t need one. His hand slid between my thighs, f

~ALINA’S POV~ My breath caught. Valentino Romano. The most feared man in Italy… grew up as a beggar? I forced the food in my mouth down my throat as I listened to him. For a moment, the room felt too quiet, too heavy. I stared at him, at the man everyone feared. But all I saw now was the lost boy hiding behind the mask. His face was blank, but the pain sat there, deep in his eyes, like old scars that never truly healed. He smiled bitterly, stabbing his food absently. “That’s all I was. For as long as I can remember.” “I don’t know if they’re dead or alive somewhere, probably forgotten me. Or maybe they never wanted me to begin with,” he continued quietly. “I just knew as far back as I can remember… I was alone.” My heart twisted painfully. Even a man like him—untouchable, feared, powerful—had shadows clinging to him. He wasn’t invincible after all. He was human, bruised and battered by a past no one ever dared to ask about. I couldn’t help but wonde

~Valentino’s POV~ The first thing that came into my mind as I woke up was her. My eyes cracked open slightly, heavy with sleep, and my hand instinctively reached out to her side, but instead, I was greeted by empty, cold sheets. My brow furrowed, the sleep vanishing in an instant. “Moglie?” I muttered, my voice still rough, thick with sleep. No answer. A dull ache throbbed in my arm as I pushed myself up, the stitches pulling, a burning reminder of the shitstorm we’d just survived. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself upright, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I grabbed a shirt from the closet, slipping it carefully over my shoulders. The fabric dragged against the gauze on my arm, making me wince. I paired it with black shorts and slides, then headed out of the room. Descending the grand staircase, my footsteps echoed sharply against the marble, slicing through the suffocating quiet. Two guards stood stationed at the bottom, straightening immediately wh

~VALENTINO’S POV~ “Moglie mia… you scared me.” My voice was low, breathless, almost hoarse, as I wrapped my arms around her tighter than I should have. My nose buried into the crook of her neck, inhaling the soft scent of her vanilla and jasmine perfume, my heart still hammering against my ribs like it was trying to tear through me. God. I didn’t even realize I was trembling until she shifted slightly against me. Just a few minutes ago, I had been tearing through the streets of Toronto like a madman, the city lights flashing like warning signs I couldn’t read fast enough. My knuckles had turned white from how hard I was gripping the steering wheel, my head spinning with worst-case scenarios. Alina… with another man. Alina… taken. Alina… gone. God, the things I imagined; my enemies dragging her away, using her to hurt me, the only softness I have in this brutal world ripped from my hands. And then one of the boys had called. “She’s at Queens Road, Boss. Spotte