All Chapters of I Saved the Mafia Boss—Now I'm His Obsession. : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Adriano ⫘☠︎︎⫘ I saw her five nights ago, and it hadn’t left me since. Five fucking nights, and she was still in my head, haunting me like smoke you can’t cough out of your lungs. I’d close my eyes and there she was, her face, her voice, the way her eyes scrunched in that desperate but beautiful way. And now it was raining again. Sheets of it hammering the streets, running down glass, soaking the estate. Same as that night. Every drop pounding against the window just kept dragging me back there. Back to her. Back to the look that wrecked me. I was an absolute fucking asshole. I know it. I knew it even while I was doing it. She was right there, close enough to breathe me in, close enough that every bit of restraint I thought I had snapped in half. I couldn’t resist her, not when she looked at me like that, I never could. So I took, rough, like an animal starving. And she gave it to me. I came undone in her mouth, tasted her tears, her heat, and then I acted like it meant

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 The clock on the wall had said 2:17 AM. My parents house was blessedly quiet, a deep, normal silence I hadn't heard since I met him. And yet, the silence was a lie. I was glued to the second-floor window, the one overlooking the front lawn and the quiet, tree-lined street. Below, illuminated by the harsh white glow of the porch light, sat Adriano. He hadn’t moved. It had been over forty-eight hours since he had pulled up in that unmarked black SUV, the one his goons usually used for surveillance and planted himself on the edge of the curb. His security detail was spread out discreetly down the street, but he was here, visible, exposed. He wasn’t in one of his tailored suits. He was wearing a thick, black leather jacket, jeans, and his hair was a mess. He was sitting on the cold asphalt, his back against the tire of his vehicle, his knees drawn up. He looked less like the Devil of Chicago and more like a massive, brooding gargoyle. I watched him lift

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 I was perched on the edge of the bed. I had deliberately picked the skimpiest piece of silk the closet held, a barely-there nightdress that felt cool against my skin. Slowly, I worked a scented lotion into my legs, dragging the process out, making sure every inch of my body looked, felt, and smelled completely perfect. The door creaked open behind me and I knew it was him when he stopped immediately in the doorway. He didn't take a single step into the room. I didn't acknowledge him. My focus was on rubbing the lotion just above my knee. I felt the heat of his stare. I could practically hear his mind screaming. To twist the knife, I threw my hair back over one shoulder. The motion exposed the entire curve of my neck and shoulder, drawing attention to the exact spot where Remo's bullet had gone in. Then, I dipped low, bending to reach my feet, stretching the thin silk tight across my hips and back. "Need something?" I asked, my voice flat, still focused

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 I gently settled his unconscious body onto the center of the bed. He was still shirtless, his chest, rising and falling. I glanced at the clock. It was almost time. Any second now, the drug would start to wear off. He'd be disoriented, yes, but awake, and he'd find himself completely secured to the bedposts. I stripped out of the black dress, letting the fabric pool silently on the floor. I wasn't just in lingerie, I was in the black lace set that would make him lose his mind. I walked over to the full-length mirror. I used my fingers to aggressively scrunch my curls, my mouth was next. I refreshed the red lipstick, making the color impossibly bold. Then, I turned back to the bed. He was still deeply out. His hands were now secured with the black silk ties. This wasn't punishment anymore, it was the start of the gift and the rest of our lives. I climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist, settling my hips right above his. I leaned down and looked at

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 I slipped back into this life like it had just been waiting for me, like I’d never left, never cried, never lost my mind trying to survive without it. Everything just fit again. The mornings smelled like coffee and laughter, like home. My son’s giggles filled the house, my husband’s voice was the first thing I heard every day, and it still made my chest ache in that sweet, stupid way. Sometimes I’d catch myself just standing there, in the kitchen, in the garden, on the rooftop, in the middle of all the chaos and think, God, this is mine. This messy, loud, beautiful life. The kind where family means dinner that turns into dancing, and love feels like sunlight on your skin. I always thought this life would eat me alive. And maybe once, it almost did. The guns, the secrets, the blood, it used to terrify me. I thought I could never belong in a world like his. But somehow, it changed. Or maybe I did. Now, the danger doesn’t scare me the way it used to. It’