บททั้งหมดของ A Pet For The Two Mafia Dons : บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Chapter 112 Selena hit the light switch too hard. The lamps flared. Her breath came sharp and thin, like she’d run up a thousand stairs. She pressed both palms to the door and kept her forehead there, as if the wood could hold her upright.“Get out,” she said, voice low, shaking. “Get out before I say something I can’t take back.”The latch clicked anyway. He stepped in and shut the door behind him with that quiet final sound that meant the rest of the house no longer existed. He didn’t crowd her. He didn’t speak. He just waited, the way he always did—like patience was another kind of force.She spun, tears hot, fists tight. “You ruined me in there.”“I told you the west wing is the price,” he said.“I didn’t ask for a price.”“You asked for truth.”She laughed once, jagged. “No. You shoved it down my throat.”He took one step. Stopped. “If I let you love a lie, you would hate me when it broke.”“I already hate you.”“You also want me.”“Don’t you dare—”“Tell the truth?” His eyes lo

Chapter 114The silence at breakfast was unbearable. Selena pushed eggs around her plate, her fork scraping porcelain. She couldn’t eat. Not after the smoke and blood of last night. Not after seeing how easily they had turned a siege into another tally on their wall of victories.Rafe lounged across from her, all teeth and swagger, tossing grapes into the air and catching them like nothing had happened. He winked at her when he caught her staring. She scowled. He loved that.The Don sat at the head, the seat that belonged to him in every sense. He didn’t touch the food. He never did when the air was this heavy. His gaze flicked between papers on the table and her face. Selena hated how steady he was. How he made chaos look like order with just his presence.Finally, she snapped. “Why is no one talking about what happened?”Rafe’s grin widened around another grape. “Because, sweetheart, talking comes after the fun. And tonight, it’s our turn.”Selena blinked. “Tonight?”The Don lifted

Chapter 116The ride home was silent, but it wasn’t peace. It was the kind of silence that pressed heavy against Selena’s chest, that made her more aware of her own heartbeat than of the city lights flickering past outside the tinted windows.She sat between them, stiff-backed, her hands gripping the hem of her dress. The Don hadn’t let go of her wrist since they left Ferraro’s estate. His hold wasn’t rough, but it was absolute. Possession disguised as reassurance. Rafe, on her other side, lounged like the whole night had been a comedy show instead of a dance with death, one ankle propped on his knee, his grin lazy but sharp.Selena stared out the window. Neon blurred into streaks of red and gold. The sound of the city was muffled, as if the car had swallowed it. Her thoughts tumbled, fractured. She remembered the way Ferraro’s eyes had crawled over her, the way whispers had cut through silk and champagne, the way every flash of the camera had burned her into a role she hadn’t chosen.

Chapter 118The light crept through the curtains, golden and sharp, cutting across the room like a reminder that morning didn’t care what had happened in the night. Selena stirred, her body heavy with exhaustion but alive with sensation. Every nerve hummed, every breath carried the memory of heat and hands, lips and whispered demands.She blinked against the light, slowly sitting up. The sheet slipped, baring her shoulders, her skin still tingling from where he had kissed her most. For a fleeting second, she let herself forget the world beyond the door. She pretended this was normal: two people tangled in sheets, their hearts still racing for each other.But when her gaze landed on him, the illusion cracked.The Don was already dressed, his holster strapped to his side, his shirt crisp, his posture unshaken. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the window as if calculating wars before breakfast.Selena clutched the sheet to her chest. “Do you ever stop?”His head turned, his eyes

Chapter 120Rafe’s newspaper still lay open on the bed, the headline shouting in ugly black letters. Selena stared at the photo of the three bodies until the ink seemed to crawl. She could not unsee it. Daylight. Pavement. Blood carried like gossip by the rain that had fallen just after dawn.The Don didn’t spare the paper a second look. He shut the door behind him and the room shifted, as it always did, obeying the gravity of his presence. He crossed to her in three quiet steps, set two fingers on the edge of the sheet where she held it white-knuckled, and removed the newspaper with a calm that made her want to scream.“You should eat,” he said.“I’m not hungry.”“Eat anyway.”Rafe crunched into his apple. “She’s got a point, boss. Nerves taste lousy.”“Then we change the taste,” the Don said, already turning toward the hall. “War room. Now.”Rafe winked at Selena and pushed off the armchair. “Come on, sweetheart. Front row seats to the end of the Ferraro problem.”“I don’t want fron