All Chapters of I Married a Mafia King!: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Rhian stood frozen, her pulse racing as Damon’s teasing words echoed in her head. The morning air was cool, but she felt flushed, heat creeping into her cheeks the longer his eyes lingered on her. She clutched her sweater tighter, but it did nothing to shield her from the weight of his gaze.Damon tilted his head, studying her like she was more interesting than the workout he had abandoned. “You know,” he said slowly, his tone thick with amusement, “you’re a terrible spy. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you hiding behind those bushes?”Rhian’s face flamed. “I wasn’t spying,” she muttered, looking away. “I just… wanted to see where you were going.”He chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down her spine. “Ah. So my wife sneaks out at dawn, follows me halfway through my jog, hides behind a hedge… all because she’s curious?” He stepped closer, closing the space between them with ease. “That’s adorable.”She tried to retreat, but her back met the cold bark of a tree. D

The night deepened, and the hideout hummed with quiet intensity. Damon leaned back in his chair, listening as updates poured in one after another. Villareal’s empire was bleeding—slowly, methodically—but the man himself? Still standing. Still refusing to flinch.“He is still courageous,” the assistant murmured, lowering his tablet. There was a trace of respect in his tone, but more than that—concern. “Even with rumors swirling and numbers crashing, Villareal isn’t panicking. He’s not breaking.”Damon’s eyes darkened. Then, slowly, dangerously, his lips curled into a grin.“Courage,” he said softly, “is a mask. And masks…” His hand lifted, making a tearing motion through the air, “…can always be ripped off.”The room stilled as Damon rose from his chair, his presence commanding silence. He scanned his men—killers, hackers, smugglers, soldiers of shadows—every eye fixed on him, awaiting his next decree.“Then, let’s scare him.”The words rolled off his tongue like velvet dipped in venom

The glass doors of Glam Perfume Company slid shut behind Rhian with a soft mechanical hiss. Her heels clicked faintly against the pavement, her steps unsteady from exhaustion. She stifled another yawn and pulled her cardigan tighter around her, wishing she could just collapse straight into bed.She had worked late again—testing, writing, revising. The upcoming launch was crucial, and she had thrown herself into perfecting every last detail. But now, at nearly midnight, the streets were quiet, too quiet, and the loneliness in the air pressed against her. She glanced around, expecting to hail a taxi, when the deep purr of an engine broke the silence.A sleek black car slid to a stop in front of her. She froze, instinctively clutching her bag tighter.The tinted window rolled down with smooth precision, and her heart leapt before her mind caught up. Damon.He was leaning casually in the driver’s seat, one arm draped over the wheel, the other resting lazily along the doorframe. The street

The morning sun was barely up, its light seeping faintly through the curtains when Rhian’s peace was broken by a loud sound echoing from somewhere outside her room. She stirred, groaning softly, and rubbed her temple. “What was that noise?” she muttered groggily, tossing the blanket aside.Sliding her legs off the bed, she slipped into her slippers, yawning as she pushed open the bedroom door. The hallway greeted her with silence, except—her eyes froze on the floor.A sea of red petals.Her brows drew together in confusion. “What in the world…” she whispered, her voice caught between disbelief and curiosity. The petals were scattered thickly, almost too perfect to be accidental, forming a trail that stretched out before her.Her heart stuttered. She pressed her hand lightly against her chest, surprised at how fast it beat. A smile—small, unwilling but unstoppable—curved her lips. “What’s with him?” she muttered, a soft laugh escaping.Drawn like a moth to flame, she followed the crims

Damon pulled the chair back and let his wife stand, his steady hand slipping into hers as though it belonged there. His grip was warm, firm, almost stubborn, and before she could even ask what he was up to, he tugged her gently but insistently toward the door.“Damon, where are we going?” she asked, half-amused, half-curious.“Outside,” he answered simply, his tone final yet teasing, as though he were keeping a little secret. “You’ve been sitting far too long. I want you to walk with me.”Her brows furrowed. “At this hour?”“Yes, at this hour,” he said with a crooked smile, pulling her along. “What’s wrong? Afraid the night breeze will mess up your hair?”She rolled her eyes at him, but her lips curved despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”“And you married me,” he shot back quickly, squeezing her hand as he led her past the hall and out the front doors.The air outside greeted them instantly, cooler than the warmth of the dining room they’d left behind. The night sky stretched wide