All Chapters of In Bed With The Devil : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Chapter 62 They arrived briefly at the hotel suite Alex had prepared. It was perfect, simple with a wide eyed view of the city which Olivia was definitely not used to. She’d expected them to visit the family home, attending the annual meeting and all but he wanted to keep her safe. The hotel was belonged to the Maldov family, filled with guards and security personnel in every cranny so as to avoid another attack. She took a quick shower and slipped into a plush bathrobe, a complimentary lunch of chicken sandwiches and a pot of tea was waiting for her as she got out. She poured herself a cup and let out a satisfied sigh as she stared outside the window. It didn’t take long before she felt a pair of hands over her waist, he rested his head on her shoulders right after kissing her softly on the cheek. “You should be jet lagged by now.” “I had a vision.” He mused. Her brows arched in question, “A vision?” He placed a hand over her belly, “Nevermin

Chapter 64 She’d expected more grandeur. It was the annual family gathering of one of the biggest mafia groups in the country, she’d expected a lavish decor with oozes of luxury and danger. There was danger alright. She hadn’t met half the family but she’d seen enough guns to last a lifetime. Every member was strapped, being with someone as her husband had given her a third eye so she was able to spot whatever they were carrying easily. Alex also handed her a pistol, an uncanny exchange but one she accepted nonetheless as she strapped it to the garter under her dress. “Do not smile at them.” He warned, “Do not make small talk with them. Do not even look at them. I’ll handle everything.” She gulped hard and almost whimpered in fright as he walked away to talk to a man who was well into his thirties. She’d spotted Gran gran, the old woman looked even more miserly than the last time they spoke, probably well into her last days on earth. Harold and Damien Ma

Chapter 66 “The Yakov family!!” Milo finally screamed atter an hour of intense torture, “I work for the Yakov family!” The Yakovs?? Alex’s brows furrowed deeply as Marco’s second in command brought the news to him. The Yakovs had no business being in the country, in his terrain even, not after they’d been chased away by the Italian mov for being traitors. The Maldov’s were the only part of the Russian mafia who were allowed to remain, all thanks to his father’s undying loyalty and snitching on the Yakovs themselves. They were nothing. They’d disappeared for years and now they were back for what? Vengeance? To ruin the empire the Maldov’s had built from scratch all because of their carelessness? He scoffed, “Who’s the head now?” Milo squirmed for a moment, right until Alex picked up a hammer. He flinched, unable to take any more pain, “Demetri Yakov. You killed his son, Ilya. He’s pissed.” Alex smirked at the mention of Ilya, the spy he caught years ag

Chapter 68 “Big C.” “Marco.” Charles snorted, “The months haven’t been good to you, I fear.” “Shut up.” Marco grunted, “You’re only standing because I’m allowing you to.” “Marco it’s not what you— “It’s exactly what I think.” He sighed deeply. Gof this was more frustrating than ever, “You could’ve made this all easy you know? You could’ve just told him the truth.” The tears just wouldn’t stop. Olivia sniffled, “I…I’m sorry.” “Sorry isn’t cutting it.” He muttered, “In exactly sixty minutes he’s going to be here. He knows everything.” “I can….i can tell him what’s happened. I can— “No.” Marco shook his head, “The moment my boss walks through that door he’s going to put a bullet through your pretty head.” Charles stepped forward, “he wouldn’t— “Oh shut up, Big C.” Marco snapped, “Also the Yakovs?? You could’ve gone to the Italian mob and then I can respect the balls you have but the Yakovs? You’ve dug yourself a much bigger hole.” “Demetri

Chapter 70 The chaotic mess of a dump site had nothing on the hotel suite once Alex was done with it. Water sprawled all over the marbled floors, holding specks of blood and debris. The wide flatscreen had it’s very body pummeled without remorse, the shards of it’s glass all over the the stand below it. The white pristine curtains had been stained with blood, ripped in most parts, it’s hinges ripped out from the walls. The beautiful and intricate chandelier above the room, now on the ground, broken to a million shards and a shadow of it’s former regal self. His grasp was tightly wound around the baseball bat he found lying at a corner. The perfect instrument of his rage—broken. He stared outside the windows, watching as the night flew by. The nerve of the world to keep on going without fault, when he was in a tumbled mess of his own pain. A stray tear escaped his duct, one which he didn’t bother brushing off. He’d never cried, not since when he was five