Semua Bab Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance): Bab 41 - Bab 50

ISABELLA“I want this one,” I said, pointing at the gown on the rack. My voice came out steadier than I felt.Tracy snapped her fingers at one of the attendants, who hurried over to pack it.I kept my eyes low, pretending to be fascinated with the embroidery. No one seemed to notice Liliana slip past. No one looked at me twice. Still, my fingers trembled as I smoothed the fabric against my palm. My pulse wouldn’t calm, no matter how much I told myself I was safe.When Tracy’s phone rang, the sharp sound made me flinch. Fear crawled up my spine though I didn’t understand why. No one had caught me. No one had seen Liliana. So why did my heart feel like it might pound its way out of my chest?Tracy glanced at the screen, and I watched her face drain of warmth. She stepped away to answer, murmuring too softly for me to hear. By the time she returned, barely three minutes later, she looked like someone else entirely.“Ma’am… boss wants to see us. Bare Beauty Spa. Now.”“Why would he want t

DAMIANImpossible. That was the only word echoing in my head as I read the letter again, the paper trembling slightly between my fingers.The Greco family murdered Damian’s father. I wish I could tell you more be careful.The words burned into my mind, sharp and poisonous. Why would Liliana write this? What game was she playing? She had no place in the mafia world, no right to interfere. And yet…she did.For weeks, I had been digging into her, searching for cracks, weaknesses. All I found was a woman desperate, clingy, too corny for her own good, clawing at every chance to separate me from Isa. But how did she manage to sneak into that store? I had made sure no one not a single soul could get close while Isabella shopped. That was her time, her freedom, a fragile illusion of normalcy I built for her.And still, Liliana slipped through. Not only that she dared hand Isabella a letter, slipping poison into her hands, trying to paint my father’s death as the Grecos’ doing.I gritted my te

DAMIANHer lips curved faintly, caught somewhere between defiance, fear, and something I couldn’t yet read. “Because… I have my ways.”My ways.The words sank like poison. Nobody dug into the Mafia without winding up in the ground, yet here she was breathing, talking, alive until I caught her.“Tell me,” I demanded, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.“I’ll only tell you on one condition.”A condition. From her.I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as I sank into my chair. A smirk touched my mouth, but my eyes stayed cold. Richard’s gun pressed against her temple, steady and eager. Bold woman thinking she could negotiate with me.I lifted a hand, and Richard froze. He lowered the weapon. The room felt heavier without the click of metal threatening to end her life.“What’s your condition?” My tone left no room for games.“Let me see Isabella.”A bitter laugh escaped me. “And why would I allow that?”Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with something raw. “Because I miss he

ISABELLATears streamed down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable, blinding my sight as I nodded. My throat felt raw, the word scraping out in a broken whisper. “Anything.”With a snap of his fingers, Tracy fell from his grip. His men obeyed without question, retreating one after another until the heavy door slammed shut, leaving only Damian and me in the suffocating silence of his office.That smirk curved his lips the kind that never promised safety, only danger. “You said you’d do anything,” he murmured, his voice sharp enough to cut. “I’ve kept my end of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”Before I could draw breath, his hand caught me by the arm and dragged me to my feet. My knees buckled, but he forced me upright, tilting my chin with fingers rough and unyielding. He wiped the tears from my face, his touch gentler than it had any right to be.“Come on,” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “You know I hate it when you cry.”The words might have sounded tender to s

ISABELLAMy gaze devoured him.The sheer cut of his body tense, ruthless, untamed stirred something wild in me. Every part of me screamed for him. Would he ruin me? Would he drive so deep I’d feel him brand my insides, mark me from within? The thought should have terrified me. Instead, hunger coiled tighter, sharp and relentless. I wanted it. I wanted him. All of him.“Put it in, Master,” I whispered, breathless, my voice trembling on the edge of desperation. “Make me yours. Break me if you have to… but make me yours.”His lips curved, the faintest smirk. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to the crown of my head. The warmth of his palm as he patted me—praise in the smallest gesture ignited me more than anything. The word sank into my bones, and my body craved him with a need that bordered on madness.I shuddered. He was teasing, I knew it. Drawing me out, making me burn with wanting. Every nerve in me screamed for him to finally claim me. Gosh, Isa, this wasn’t what you came