All Chapters of Claimed by My Brother’s Best Friend (A Mafia Romance): Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

DAMIANThe color drains from his face, the blood leaving him pale. His hands twitch at his sides like a man trying to grasp something that isn’t there. He stumbles back, his lips quivering as he whispers, “That’s not possible.”I rise to my full height, letting the silence stretch before I answer. My grin creeps slowly, mercilessly, across my face. “Oh, it’s possible. And tonight…” I step closer, my voice dropping low enough that he has to lean in to hear me. “…you’ll learn what it means to be powerless.”“Bring her.”My men rush into the garden shadows and return dragging Valentina between them. Her wrists are bound tight, her mouth sealed with silver tape. The moonlight catches in her hair as the night breeze tosses it across her tear-stained cheeks.“Tear it off,” I command.The tape is ripped away, and Valentina gasps, her lips raw. Tears glisten in her eyes the Valentina I once knew would have rather died than cry in front of me. Yet here she is, broken, trembling.“Father!” Her

MATTEOI pushed open the door to Lola’s chamber, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor. She stood in the middle of the room, face red with fury, hurling words at the maids who hovered nervously around her.One sharp nod from me, and the women scurried out, skirts brushing the floor as the door shut behind them. Silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.Lola’s defiance faltered the instant our eyes met. She backed away until her calves brushed the edge of the bed, her hands clutching the sheets like they might protect her.“This isn’t your brother’s mansion,” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel. “You should be grateful I didn’t throw you into the dungeon. I gave you this room because I found you… fascinating. And this is how you repay me? By disrespecting my staff?”Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want you. Please… just let me go.”I stepped closer, letting her see in my eyes the truth she refused to believe. “No matter how you beg, I will not

VALENTINAThe ropes bit into the skin at the back of my hands. Damp stone pressed cool against my calves; the dungeon smelled of mildew and old sweat. A single torch guttered in the corner, throwing the room into jagged light and deeper shadows where rats moved like small, opinionated ghosts. I tasted iron on my tongue thirst, and something else: the thin, metallic edge of a plan.“He asked for water?” one of Damian’s goons barked, voice rough as gravel. He stepped closer, boots scraping over moss-caked flagstones. His shadow swallowed the little light I had.I blinked at him and stayed still, because movement gave away fear. When he spat, warm and filthy, the liquid stung more than the insult. It landed across my cheek and ran into my hair. My jaw found its line. My hands, tied but not useless, flexed.“Please,” I said, the word small and steady. The dog with a badge only chuckled, pulling his collar the way men pull their pride when they think a woman can be broken.“If you begged l

ISABELLAOnce, I used to imagine marrying Damian. It was a secret daydream, tucked away in the corners of my girlhood silly, sweet, full of hope.But those dreams burned the night he slaughtered my family.He spared me, not out of mercy, but because he wanted a toy to break. His pet. His possession. And no matter how often I begged my heart to stop, it still betrayed me with cravings for his touch cravings my soul despised.Now, I’m his wife. Not because I said yes, but because he made it so.“Come,” his voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth but sharp enough to command my feet.A blindfold covers my eyes, his hand heavy on the small of my back as he guides me through his estate. My pulse stumbles with every step. Damian never gives without taking, and never surprises without cruelty tucked beneath the bow.“I have a gift for you,” he says near my ear, his tone low, coaxing. “You’ll love it.”A gift. The word tastes bitter. What can a cage hold but another chain?The cloth falls from

DAMIANThe moment my boots touched Paris soil, a shadow crawled up my spine. The city was alive neon lights flickering against rain-slick streets, the air heavy with perfume and secrets. But beneath it all, I felt something colder. Not fear of my brother never him. What gnawed at me was the unknown. That invisible whisper that death might be waiting in some hidden corner.I forced myself to smirk at the thought. Impossible. The only man who ever had the power to end me was Vincent, my closest friend, my rival in everything that mattered. And Vincent was six feet beneath the earth. Or so I told myself.Still, instincts are not so easily silenced. That is why I was in Richardo’s office instead of toasting Paris with wine.Richardo sat rigid behind his desk, spine straight, hands clasped tight as if he could squeeze out the answers from the air itself. His jaw flexed with every word I didn’t speak. His eyes were hawk-sharp, scanning me like a man trying to anticipate a strike he knew was