Semua Bab Through Smoke and Steel: A Mafia Romance: Bab 1 - Bab 10

❦ Rosalind ❦ I lay awake the next morning, staring up at the ceiling of my childhood room that was painted in a coquettish pink sky. Every time I pictured myself leaving the safety of the large bed and jumping headfirst into mafia boss mode, or thinking about the situation with Viktor Marino, my heart rate picked up, sweat coating my forehead, and my left hand twisting the prosthetic ring finger of my right. I heard a shuffle as the door opened and closed. The smell of artificial lilies hit me, but I kept still and watched Claudia who entered holding a bouquet. Claudia Amato, my family’s housekeeper in childhood, turned nanny after my mother’s death fifteen years ago. I vaguely remember her trying to fill the void, but she never could. Not until I was sent to live with my aunt Carina five years later. She had to be in her late fifties now, her black hair had ash roots. Itching for the comfort of conversation instead of sitting with my bleak thoughts, I sat up in bed, facing her.

❦ Rosalind ❦ “That was a dangerous thing to do. He could have killed you!” “But he didn’t.” I spun around to face Marcus, desperate to stop his grating voice and allow myself space to think. “He knows better than to touch a hair on my head just after the death of his father. Let this be the last time you second-guess me in public.” I finished, my nails digging into my palms. Marcus scowled, and in that moment, looked down at me like I was an unruly child. Then, he nodded and left. Dante, my head bodyguard, followed me everywhere with his palm forever stuck to the grip of his gun. I had no doubts that he would’ve used it had any harm come to me. After lunch at a restaurant, my stomach filled after Viktor had squeezed it dry with his gaze, I leaned against the grand piano in the living room, my heart still pounding from the meeting. The bastard had threatened me, clear as day. I hated how fear had made me run, but the expression in his eyes, the coldest grey eyes I’d ever seen,

❄︎ Viktor ❄︎ The clicking of stiletto heels on the metal grate stairs pulled my gaze toward it. The table quieted, conversation ceasing as all eyes were drawn to the figure descending into the underground meeting room. The stripper slowed her grind, sensing the change in atmosphere. Rosalind Marlow ignored my existence, choosing instead to glance and nod at every other man in the room, before settling in the last free seat at the table. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back like she owned the seat. Her bodyguard, a made man I recognized by the tattoo on his finger, stood rigidly behind her. In the awkward silence, I spoke what was on everyone’s mind. “That chair was reserved for Marcus DeVries.” “And I’m sitting in it. Does anyone have a problem with that?” Her curt tone reverberated in the room, meeting silence. Her face, blank and devoid of emotion, still told me two things. She was already regretting this decision, and she was uncomfortable with the scenery.

❦ Rosalind ❦ My jaw hurt, my back burned, and my ankles and wrists felt numb.As I regained consciousness, I realized why. I was seated on a plain wooden chair, my wrists tied tightly behind me, and my ankles bound to each of the front legs of the chair. My tongue flicked over parched lips, and the unmistakable taste and smell of blood made me swoon.My eyes adjusted just in time to see a masked figure swing and hit a man hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse container by his wrists.Dante made no sound, taking each punch with a stony expression. His face was slick with blood.“Stop,” I croaked. “Leave him alone.”The punching stopped. As the tall, muscular beast of a man approached me, Dante drew his legs up and kicked him in the back, but the man didn’t even flinch.He reached me and swung his palm into my face. Stars exploded in my vision.And then darkness.*****The next time I woke up, I was untied. Still hurting, but in a moving vehicle.I kept still, squinting through swo

❦ Rosalind ❦ “I hate you!” I screamed at the locked door, throwing the knife while imagining it was his stupidly broad back. His gaze had made his ill wishes clear, the black bleeding into gray when I’d turned around naked, wielding the knife. He’d known that trying anything in that state would leave one or both of us cut. I hated how he sucked all the air out of the room whenever we were alone, always leaving me gasping while pretending to stay calm. I couldn’t tell if I could keep the mask on for much longer. I was still just a girl out of her element, hoping to rein in forces I wasn’t sure I could control. The smell of vodka still permeated the air, tainted by sandalwood mixed with Viktor’s pheromones. Shame reddened my face as I remembered stripping in front of him, drunk and overheated from the alcohol burning through my veins. I huffed, already cringing at how pitiful I must’ve looked, naked, bruised, and dirty. The last thing I wanted was to give Viktor the satisfaction