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Todos los capítulos de My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent : Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

209 Capítulos

They're Predators in Heat

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVENIGHTThe port's flames were a distant glow as Dante sped the SUV through the night, the stench of smoke clinging to us like a second skin. We'd been pent-up for too long, banquets, bullets, and bullshit leaving us both throbbing with need, my pussy aching, his cock probably straining against his pants. His hands gripped the wheel like he wanted to snap it, and I shifted in my seat, thighs clenching at the heat building between my legs.Dante suddenly veered onto a dirt pull-off, brakes slamming, the car jolting to a stop. “I’m done fucking waiting,” he snarled, lunging at me. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back as his mouth crashed onto mine, tongue thrusting deep, fucking my mouth like he owned it. I bit his tongue, hard, tasting copper, and unbuckled, shoving my hand down to grab his bulge, squeezing his thick cock through the fabric.“Backseat, bitch,” he gro

Playing It Cool

CATALINA'S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYMorning light sliced through the curtains, hitting the bedroom floor as I stepped out of the bathroom, toweling my hair dry. I’d already showered, the steam still clinging to my skin, and slipped into a plain white t-shirt and jeans, casual, unassuming, perfect for blending in. Dante stirred on the bed, sheets tangled around his hips, his bare chest marked with scratches from last night. His eyes cracked open, dark and heavy, tracking me as I moved to the dresser.“Where the fuck are you going?” he asked, voice rough with sleep, propping himself on one elbow.I smirked, crossing the room to him, my hips swaying just enough to catch his attention. I leaned down, kissing him slow and deep, my tongue teasing his until he growled low in his throat. Pulling back, I held his gaze, lips hovering an inch from his. “I’m heading to Ricci’s territory. Surveillance. Need to see what he’s plann

Her Brother's Turf Is Their Target

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEITALYMorning sun burned through the estate’s windows as I zipped up my boots, the house dead quiet without Dante. He’d peeled out at dawn for a meeting with a Senator in Rome, cutting deals to keep our empire’s shiny mask intact. I checked my phone, 9:03 AM, no texts. Perfect. Time to hunt. I was done playing spy from a distance; today, I’d stalk Ricci’s turf in Padua myself, get eyes on his slimy moves. I threw on a black leather jacket, shoved a Glock under my shirt, and tucked a blade in my boot. Ricci’s crew was still licking their wounds from the port we torched, and I’d make damn sure they stayed spooked. I hit the road, my sedan eating up the miles to Padua. The city was a circus, tourists clogging the streets, vendors slinging espresso. I parked near Piazza della Frutta, cap low, blending in like a ghost. By noon, I’d clocked one of Ricci’s lieu

A Double Plan

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVELUCCHESE ESTATE NIGHTThe study’s heavy oak door clicked shut as I stepped inside, the scent of leather and whiskey thick in the air. Dante was already there, leaning against his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the king who’d just charmed a senator into submission. His eyes locked on me, dark and intense, as I crossed the room and slid onto his lap, straddling him. My fingers traced his jaw, his stubble rough under my touch, while his hands settled on my hips, pulling me closer, a casual intimacy that felt like home.“Talk,” he said, voice low, his thumb brushing the curve of my waist.I leaned in, lips grazing his ear. “Nico’s heading to Bassano tonight to brief Carlos on Ricci’s moves. I’m backing my brother once we confirm the dates. Ricci’s Russian dogs, Roma, Kolya, Dima, are gunning for his turf. We need to make sure Carlos is ready to bleed them dry.”Dan

Preparing For The Turf War

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE BRENTA RIVER, ITALY The Brenta River’s banks were dark and silent, the water a black ribbon under the moonless sky. For days, I’d been moving my men into position, silent as death, taking out Ricci’s scouts one by one, knives to throats, bodies dumped in the current. My crew slipped into their places, wearing stolen jackets with Ricci’s crest, posing as his own. Each night, we tightened our grip, setting up a makeshift base in an abandoned warehouse along the river, crates of ammo and guns stacked in the shadows. No one saw us. No one heard us. We were fucking ghosts. Dante was holding the west, just like I told him, his men ready to carve up Ricci’s smaller turfs in Treviso and Mestre. He was in position, waiting for my signal to strike, a wolf on a leash, and I knew he was itching to tear into something.

Ricci's Downfall

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEBASSANO DEL GRAPPA, ITALYSunset bled red over the Brenta River, the sky turning to bruised purple as shadows swallowed the warehouse. My men were ghosts in the dark, snipers perched on rooftops, scouts hunkered in the reeds, Nikolai barking low orders through the comms. I crouched at the river’s edge, binoculars pressed to my eyes, Glock heavy on my hip. We’d been locked in since last night, no sleep, just adrenaline and black coffee. Ricci’s move was coming, and I was ready to make him regret every fucking step.My phone buzzed, Nico. “Catalina, my guy inside confirmed, Ricci’s rolling out. Trucks loaded, Russians leading the charge. They’re heading for Bassano now, full force.”“Good,” I said, voice like ice. “Tell the spy to pull out. No traces.”“Already gone,” Nico replied. “He’s out clean. Your call on the strike.”I switched to the earpiece channel for my crew. “Hold po

Restructuring The Claimed Territories

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE ITALYThe air reeked of blood and smoke as I stepped over bodies littering Bassano’s streets, my boots crunching on shattered glass. Ricci’s men lay broken, gunned down, throats slit, not a single one spared. My crew moved like vultures, stripping weapons, torching trucks, and dragging corpses to the river. The Brenta swallowed them without a trace. I scanned the carnage through my binoculars, Carlos still standing in the square, blood dripping from his knife, his men securing the perimeter. He’d held the line, just like I knew he would.I pressed my earpiece, voice cold. “Nikolai, finish the cleanup. No loose ends. Every body, every bullet, gone.”“On it, capo,” Nikolai replied, his men already hauling crates and burning evidence.I switched channels, calling Dante. “Tesoro, it’s done. Ricci’s down, Russians too, all dead. Bassano’s ours. Hit the west now, full sweep. Take every fucking inch of

Tied Up Don

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYDante’s arms wrapped around me like iron as he lifted me from the desk, our bodies still slick and connected, his cum leaking down my thighs. “Not enough, amore mio,” he growled, voice rough with that pent-up frustration from two weeks apart. “I need more of you. All fucking night.”I laughed, breathless, nipping his shoulder as he carried me to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us. The massive bed waited, sheets rumpled from our earlier neglect. He dropped me onto the silk, his eyes dark and hungry, cock already twitching back to life. But I wasn’t done playing. “Remember my promise, tesoro?” I purred, pushing him down onto his back. “You did good. Now, let me reward you.”He smirked, that dangerous Mafia don glint in his eyes, but he let me take control, for now. I grabbed the silk ropes from the nightstand, tying his wrists to the headboard, tight enough to hol

The Executioner's Interest Shifting

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVICENZA, ITALYThe restructuring was done, Ricci’s empire was ash, his territories carved up like a slaughtered beast. Dante owned the west, Treviso and Mestre flying Lucchese colors, while Carlos locked down Bassano and the Brenta River. Every deed signed, every bribe paid, Italy was ours. I drove to Nico’s mansion in Vicenza, the late afternoon sun cutting through the haze. My boots echoed on his marble floors as I strode into his study, where he lounged behind a desk littered with maps and burner phones.“La Rosa Nera,” Nico greeted, his grin sharp. “You look like you just burned a country down.”“Close enough, caro,” I said, dropping into a leather chair. “Talk. Updates on the car shipments and the Executioner. What’s moving?”Nico leaned forward, sliding a tablet my way, showing encrypted logs. “Custom cars are on schedule, ten armored SUVs, modded with bulletproof glass

The Customized Cars' Arrival

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYWeeks had slipped by in a haze of quiet dominance, Italy’s underworld bending to our will without a single shot fired. The shipments from Voronin finally docked at the Verona port under a crisp autumn sky, ten customized armored beasts rolling off the freighter like predators unleashed. Dante, Nico, and I stood on the pier, watching cranes lift each one, sleek, bulletproof monsters disguised as luxury. Dante’s hand rested possessively on my lower back, his fingers tracing lazy circles through my silk blouse.“These are gonna bleed the buyers dry,” Nico said, grinning as the last car, a matte-black Mercedes G63 AMG, touched down. “Voronin outdid himself. Every spec’s top-tier, armored glass that stops .50 cal, self-sealing tires, the works.”Dante nodded, his eyes on the lineup. “Get them to the showroom, caro. No scratches.”We escorted the transport to Dante’s underground

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