Semua Bab Entangled with the Mafia Don: Bab 31 - Bab 38

Davina's POV: The night was a brutal teacher. The warmth of the day evaporated quickly, leaving behind a biting chill that seeped into my bones, despite the thin jacket I still wore. The city, which had pulsed with life and laughter just hours before, now seemed indifferent, its shadows long and menacing. Every rustle of leaves, every distant siren, sent a jolt of fear through me.I wandered aimlessly, the streets my only companions. Shopfronts, their shutters drawn, stared blankly ahead. The occasional passing car illuminated my tear-streaked face before speeding away, its occupants oblivious to the young woman huddled in a doorway, her world shattered.Sleep offered little respite, a fitful, broken series of uneasy dozes punctuated by the cold, the hard concrete, and the gnawing fear of the unknown. Each time I drifted off, the faces of Mom and Lexi, etched with hurt and anger, would flicker behind my eyelids. Dexter’s smug smirk was another unwelcome vi

Ezra's POV:The heavy, ornate door to Lorenzo’s private study clicked shut behind Andrei Sokolov and his chillingly composed daughter, leaving a vacuum filled only with the oppressive weight of the just-concluded transaction. The air, still carrying the faint, cloying scent of Sokolov’s expensive cologne, felt tainted, polluted by his presence in our sanctuary. My father, Lorenzo, stood by the massive mahogany desk, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge, his usual booming authority subdued, replaced by a strained, almost defeated air.Tatiana Sokolova. The image of her remained etched in my mind – a study in glacial beauty and icy entitlement. The way her piercing blue eyes had swept over our opulent surroundings with such detached indifference, as if judging its worth. Her infrequent pronouncements to her father, each word precise and laced with an unspoken command, had painted a clear picture of a woman accustomed to wielding power, even at her young age. And that undercurrent o

Ezra's POV: The prospect of tonight’s formal dinner with Tatiana Sokolova clung to me like a suffocating shroud. The meticulously tailored suit, the crisp white shirt – each garment felt like a step closer to a predetermined future I loathed. I lingered in the sterile confines of my private office at the Devil's Club, the muffled sounds of the late-night revelry a distant, unwelcome reminder of the life I was about to trade for a cold, political alliance. The polished mahogany desk reflected my grim visage, a man reluctantly marching towards his own gilded cage. Just as I finally forced myself to rise, the weight of obligation heavy on my shoulders, a sudden, violent commotion erupted near the back of the club. Roy’s usually gruff pronouncements, laced with an unfamiliar urgen

Davina's POV: Waking up in a strange bed sent a jolt of pure panic through me. The soft, unfamiliar sheets, the heavy, expensive curtains blocking out the daylight, the faint scent of expensive cologne clinging to the air – it was all wrong. My memories were fragmented, a jumbled mess of flashing lights, a sickly sweet taste, and a terrifying, looming figure.Then, the events of last night crashed down on me in a wave of mortifying clarity. Ivan's leering face, the burning in my throat, the terrifying weakness… and then Ezra. His furious face, the brutal violence, and finally, the hazy memory of being carried, weightless, out of the club.My eyes flew open, and I scrambled back against the headboard, my heart hammering against my ribs. Ezra was there, asleep beside me, his dark hair tousled, his strong features softened in slumber. A wave of shame washed over me, hot and intense. What had happened? Had I…His eyes fluttered open, and the sleepiness vanished instantly, replaced by a g