All Chapters of CLAIMED BY THE MAFIA DON: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

I need this.I need some form of connection with him. I also need to own a part of him. I need to turn his world upside down just like he did to mine. A growl rips from deep inside him as he kisses me with a ruthless vigour that steals my thoughts. It’s not a kiss, it’s a possession. His lips move against mine with a rough intensity, leaving no room for breath or softness.Just this. Us. In this moment.His fingers tighten around my throat, angling my face up so he can devour me some more. The kiss is a clash, a war of heat and anger as he grazes his teeth over my bottom lip and plunges his tongue into my mouth and consumes me. The taste of him is fire, burning every thought from my mind. His breath is harsh against my mouth, his lips relentless, like he’s trying to swallow me up, break me.There’s no finesse in the way he kisses me right now. It’s neither controlled nor refined. It’s not even disciplined like the way he fucks me. God! I miss fucking him.... I crave it. I love it. I f

We were lost.Lost in the passion.Lost in the euphoria.I was spent....so completely undone, my limbs heavy, my thoughts floating. I didn’t think I’d ever gone that hard, or if Asher had ever gone so hard on me before. I didn’t know which it was, me or him or both but I was still riding that high, still drifting in the aftermath, when I heard a voice.A distant voice.“Hello? We’re home!”For a second, I thought it was part of a dream. A different world bleeding into this one. Then I heard the voice that snapped me fully awake.“Mom! We bought you some ice cream!”Leon. Oh God!My eyes flew open and I shot upright. Asher was next to me, still fast asleep, completely lost in whatever world he’d drifted to. Stark naked. But so was I.Panic gripped my chest. Leon was coming into my room. He was going to bust in. And I didn’t know what horrified me more, Asher being here, Asher seeing Leon, Leon seeing us like this… or the fact that Leon had no idea this man was his father.I didn’t have

ASHERAriella went down to have dinner with her son.I selfishly wanted to keep her here with me. Just curl her into my arms and never let go. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to be that man again, the one who took without asking, who kept her even when she wanted to run. Not when I’d seen what losing her really felt like.I wanted to be with Ariella. For real. I just wanted her. And the crazy thing? I didn’t even feel hurt so much anymore about what she did.Was I still mad? Yeah. Did it still gut me every time I remembered how she ran, how she left without looking back, how she got pregnant by another man, had a child from how she cheated? Yes. It still stings like hell. That doesn’t just vanish. That wound is deep and ugly and personal.But I want Ariella. That has never changed. I never stopped loving her. That’s the cold, sharp truth I’ve been circling around since she walked back into my life. I never stopped. I couldn’t. I love her, and I want her. And now

ASHER“He is your son,” I say, my voice low but firm. “And you love him. So of course I know his name.”It’s all I can say. The only truth I can offer her right now.But she’s still bewildered. Still surprised. Her eyes stay wide, like she doesn’t know whether to cry or reach for me. Like she’s caught between relief and heartbreak.But I’m still angry. Still hurting. So I turn my back to her, walk to the door, and open it with more force than necessary. The cool air from outside rushes in, but it does nothing to soothe me.“I’ll be back,” I shout behind me, more for myself than for her.And then I just walk. Because if I stay, I might break. If I stay, I might say something I can’t take back. And I don’t want to release my anger on her, not tonight. Not when the truth is finally beginning to rise.Not anymore.I kept walking, ignoring Luca’s calls as they lit up my phone one after the other. I didn’t want to talk to him, not now. I knew if I picked up, I’d end up snapping at him, and

ARIELLAAsher gets off the stool slowly, like a man weighing violence in his bones. Then he raises a finger at me.Not to hit me. But the gesture cuts like a warning, like a slap in its own right.“I was right,” he says coldly. “Something did happen with you and a neighbor.... You kissed him.”His voice is calm in that dangerous way that always comes before the storm.“Which neighbor was it? I want to know.”He starts pointing vaguely toward our left. “It couldn’t have been the old guy over there.” He scoffs. “Was it that poor woman’s husband? Is that it?”I blink, stunned, not because he’s close to the truth, but because he’s so wildly off.And that’s when it hits me: whoever told him about it… didn’t tell him much at all. Maybe they were afraid. Maybe they wanted to protect me. Or maybe they just wanted to stir chaos without getting burned.Either way, he doesn’t know everything.And strangely, that doesn’t make me want to lie.“It wasn’t her husband,” I say quietly.“Then who was it