All Chapters of MAFIA’S SURROGATE MISTRESS: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Some hours later… “Do you want to fly with me to Italy?” Alessandro’s voice reverberated through Louisa’s whole body, her face buried into his chest after their endless make-out sessions. An hour ago she tried sneaking out of his hold and back to her room to avoid judgmental whispers from the maids but each attempt was a futile try as he kept her glued to him on his bed. She was very much aware that those maids had heard her—her screams and moans had no doubt echoed down the hallway. Her face burned with embarrassment at the thought. She let herself get carried away… “Dolcezza, you seem lost” He called back her attention. She shuddered when his fingers brushed slightly over her skin, her face paling immediately as she hoped he didn't take notice of that. “Can you come again? I didn't quite catch that” “You are coming with me to Italy,” He repeated, firmer this time. Louisa didn't give a response right away, she waited for his words to sink in before raising her head

“Is that man your husband?” Maria’s knees buckled as she almost crashed back into the ground by merely recalling the unfazed glare he had fixed on her.“He almost killed me” she muttered, nearly collapsing but Emilia caught her arm in a tight grip. “get your shit together” she scolded.Vivienne kicked the shopping bags in her hands “You went there to take her dresses? Next time don't get ahead of yourself, come to us and we’ll give you money for your damn dresses” That was a wake-up call for Maria, her eyes lit up—sharp and active like she hadn't just experienced near death.“Of course sweetheart, you’ve been quite a good girl” Vivienne cackled “Don't touch that surrogate if you don't want his wrath”Emilia nodded in agreement “Wait till she’s back on the streets”“I see” Maria replied “but I’ll still get the money for my knee treatment right? I scraped it badly trying to help you two”Something immediately thudded in the car drawing their attention but they all ignored it as soon a

Back at the Estate “Hello?” Louisa picked up the landline in the sitting room as soon as she heard it ring. Two hours had passed since she last heard from Nina. Her heart thumped, and an eerie chill coursed through her bones as she remembered how broken Nina’s voice sounded. She had told Alessandro and pleaded with him to help find Nina’s location by tracking her phone through the call. Initially, she heard they got a signal of her possible location, and relief had instantly washed over her only for it to get crumpled with the news later on that her phone couldn't be tracked anymore—the server got disrupted. She wouldn't stop pacing about—her glassy eyes brimming with unshed tears. Severally, Alessandro had tried to hold her down or to get her to at least sit but none of those were an option. Nina was in trouble—she mentioned the names of Vivienne and Emilia before the line went off. Louisa was very certain she didn't hear wrong. Her skin prickled, her throat tightened

Louisa lay in bed. Knees to chest. Eyes puffy. Throat dry and surrounded by layers of silk sheets. The table lamp was on and only the sound of the ticking clock cracked the placid silence in the room. She’d stopped crying after Nina was declared dead and wheeled out on that gurney. No one came to see her, Alessandro had chosen to listen to her and give her the space she had asked for—Her heart ached for that. The maids wouldn't stop trooping in every two hours to change her untouched meal plate. When she finally got sick and fed up with it, she locked her door to keep them out. But now the door pushed open, with a soft creaking sound. She didn't turn to stare at it. She wouldn't be surprised if the maids actually had a spare key. “What is it now?” she called out dryly ready to hear the usual ‘dinner is ready, come down signora’ or ‘we prepared your bath’ but instead the bed dipped next to her, and she felt his presence behind her. “The accomplices who had a hand in Nina’s

Alessandro sank back into his seat as he watched her like a man about to commit murder or make a confession. He hadn't said a word to her again because he had no words—his throat felt dry, palms itchy. When he saw her earlier every other thing fell into oblivion in that moment. Maybe it was the silence, the soft kind that falls right before a man gets shot, that's what he had felt when he looked up and saw her. Her hair fluttered in the wind, lips tight with irritation, glossed and pouted. The silk dress clung to her like sin, showing off curves he must have been blind to notice earlier, and the way her little bump sat between her waist. The sun shades she wore that made her look like every woman he always wanted but couldn't have or touch. She looked like sin on a Sunday; his pregnant sin. His throat closed. Maybe it was the dress, it had to be the godamn dress. He moved in his seat and ran a hand across his face in frustration as he watched her—legs crossed and eyes