All Chapters of GIOVANNI: A FORBIDDEN MAFIA ROMANCE : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

CHAPTER 22: Mirabella's POV I hated Giovanni Moretti. He was about to snatch away the freedom I’d fought so hard to build. I knew, if he went to Marco with a good deal, I’d be sold off to him before I could even blink. That’s why father always told me to trust no one. But I let my guard down. I was such a fool.As Dante drove me back to the airport, tears pricked my eyes, burning behind my lashes. I should never have agreed to this trip. Yeah, the sex was great, but at what cost?Giovanni had pressing matters to attend to, so he sent me back to LA, with a promise that he'd find me when he returned.I could run. Hell, I could disappear. But deep down, I knew there was nowhere I’d go that he wouldn’t find me. Besides, I had a life here, one I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. I banged my head against the window as tears poured, a bitter mix of frustration and helplessness. Dante glanced at me through the rearview mirror, and without a word, he rolled up the partition.When

CHAPTER 24: Mirabella's POV The knock was firm. Calculated. Not the kind of frantic pounding that screamed danger, but the kind that made my pulse skip all the same.I wiped my damp palms on my jeans, still rattled from the night at the restaurant. Giovanni’s voice echoed in my head, his eyes, that suffocating tension still coiled around me like invisible rope.“Who is it?” I called softly from the kitchen, glancing at Eliana, who peeked through the peephole.“Tall. Dangerous. Pretty sure he could break the door with his pinky,” Eliana muttered. “Want me to grab the bat?”I shook my head, forcing my legs to move.I cracked the door open and the breath whooshed from my lungs.“Dominic?”My older brother stood there in a fitted black jacket, shirt open at the collar, cool blue eyes scanning my face like he hadn’t seen me in years. His dark hair was slicked back, a small crease between his brows the only sign of tension.For a second, I froze, my brain scrambling to process s

CHAPTER 26: Mirabella's POV The faint clink of glassware woke me before my alarm ever had the chance. For a second, I lay there, eyes half-closed, listening, the quiet hum of the fridge, distant city noise filtering through the window and the unmistakable sound of someone in the kitchen.Eliana. It had to be.I shoved off the covers and padded barefoot into the hallway, tugging my oversized T-shirt down my thighs. But the moment I turned the corner into the kitchen, my pulse stuttered to a halt.It wasn’t Eliana.Dominic.Sitting at the island, legs casually crossed, drinking orange juice straight from a glass like this was his damn apartment. Like breaking in was just part of his morning routine.“What. The. Fuck.” My voice was sharp, groggy but laced with fury. “Are you insane? How did you even?”“Your friend has terrible locks.” He set the glass down with quiet precision, completely unfazed by my glare.“Dominic.” I bit his name like a curse. “You cannot just-”“I can. A

CHAPTER 28: Mirabella's POV The car ride was quiet. Too quiet.Max's knuckles were tight around the steering wheel, jaw rigid, eyes locked on the dark, empty streets ahead. Streetlights flashed across his face like a warning sign, but he didn't speak.I didn’t either. Not right away.What was there to say when the man who supposedly wanted to protect you just shoved a needle in your arm and kidnapped you?Real protector-of-the-year behavior.My head still buzzed faintly, the aftereffects of whatever the hell he drugged me with making the world tilt ever so slightly. But my mind? Sharp as glass.“You realize this is illegal, right?” I finally broke the silence, my voice low but steady, eyes narrowing on his profile. “I mean, I know cops have superiority complexes, but kidnapping? Bit much.”Max's jaw flexed, but he didn’t look at me. “You wouldn’t listen. You never listen.”“Because your idea of 'listening' is me rolling over and playing scared little damsel? Sorry, not happening.”Th

CHAPTER 30: Mirabella's POV My eyes felt heavy. I gently pried my eyes open, the light was soft and warm like morning sunlight spilling across linen sheets, not like the harsh flickering bulb from that godforsaken room.I blinked slowly. My throat was dry, and every part of me ached. My limbs felt like bricks, my stomach hollow and cramping. But I was in a real bed. Clean. Soft. Covered in a thick comforter that smelled like sandalwood and soap.I wasn’t there anymore. I was safe.Then I felt it, his eyes on me.I turned my head, slowly, and there he was.Giovanni Moretti. My saviour. He had saved me twice now. From papa and now from Max.Sitting in a leather armchair beside the bed, forearms braced on his knees, head lowered like he hadn’t moved in hours. His suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up. A faint bruise darkened his jaw. His knuckles were scraped.Must be from when he knocked that door down.And his eyes, when they met mine, they looked haunted.I opened my mou