Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Mafia Husband Thought, I Was Innocent : Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYMorning light spilled into the Lucchese estate’s grand dining room, where Dante and I sat across from Henri Delatour, the French mafia boss we’d met at last year’s gala in Paris. His tailored suit screamed money, but his eyes were all business, sharp and calculating. Dante’s hand rested on my thigh under the table, possessive as always, while I leaned back, sipping espresso, my silk robe loose but deliberate, letting Henri know I was untouchable yet in charge.“Bien, mes amis,” Henri started, his accent smooth as cognac. “I came personally to solidify our alliance. France and Italy, stronger together, non? My offer is trade, like with your Russian friend Voronin. I bring something special.” He slid a sleek case across the table, snapping it open to reveal a pistol, matte black, silencer attached, sleek as a predator.Dante raised a brow, picking it up, testing its weight. “Nice toy

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEMARSEILLE, FRANCEThe arena’s roar pulsed through the VIP balcony, the cage below a crucible of sweat and blood. Dante’s hand rested on my thigh, a steady anchor, while Henri sipped bourbon, narrating the fight like a proud showman. A few fights have already been going, while we discussed business. Our voices were muffled by the noise of the the crowd cheering in their bets. I stood, shrugging off my leather jacket, revealing a fitted tank top and jeans, casual, perfect for movement. “Good thing I dressed light, tesoro,” I said, smirking at Dante. “These clothes won’t slow me down.”Dante’s low chuckle rumbled, his eyes glinting with knowing heat. “Go show ‘em, amore mio.”I stretched, rolling my shoulders, muscles loose but ready, and strode toward the ring. The fight master, a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek, raised a brow as I approached. “Let me in,” I

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEMARSEILLE, FRANCEThe door to our suite at the Hôtel de Luxe slammed shut, the Marseille night shut out as Dante’s hands found me, pulling me into a hungry kiss. Our lips crashed, tongues tangling, all the pent-up heat from the day, Henri’s deal, Rafayel’s recruitment, the arena’s blood, leaving us fueled and ignited. “Fucking missed this, amore mio,” Dante growled against my mouth, his hands tearing at my blouse, buttons popping as he yanked it off. My jeans followed, his fingers rough on the zipper, my bra and panties ripped away in a frenzy. I clawed at his shirt, fabric ripping, exposing his scarred chest, then shoved his pants down, his cock springing free, hard and thick, pre-cum already beading.Clothes flew, his jacket hit the lamp, my tank top landed on the chandelier. We stumbled to the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat, my nails raking his back. “Get on top, princip

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYThe estate’s air still reeked of Leona’s audacity as I stood in the foyer, Dante’s hand lingering on my waist. My blood simmered, but my mind was already on the next move. “I’m going to Nico’s, tesoro,” I said, voice sharp, eyes locked on his. “I’ll watch him interrogate that puttana. Nico handles it, but I want to see her break.”Dante’s jaw tightened, his gaze cold but steady, a flicker of that buried past in his eyes. “She’s nothing, amore mio. Garbage from a life I don’t even think about. You’re my everything.”I smirked, stepping closer, my fingers grazing his chest. “It’ll take more than a cheap Russian pawn to crack us, tesoro. She’s already dead for trying.”He chuckled, kissing my forehead, hard and possessive. “Go. Make her regret stepping foot here.”I grabbed my keys and drove to Nico’s mansion, the Verona streets blurring past, my mind razor-focused.

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVEVERONA, ITALYThe morning sun spilled into the dining room, casting golden streaks across the oak table where Dante and I sat for breakfast. Last night’s talk had forged our bond tighter, a steel thread woven through our twisted love. His hand brushed mine, a silent claim, as we dug into fresh bread, espresso, and grilled fish. But the fish’s sharp scent hit me like a fist, my stomach lurching, dizziness swarming. I gagged, clapping a hand over my mouth, and bolted for the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before hurling.“Catalina!” Dante’s chair scraped as he rushed after me, his hand gentle on my back, rubbing slow circles. “What’s wrong, amore mio? You okay?”I rinsed my mouth, gargling water, then turned to face him, my mind clicking. Two months without a period, buried under the chaos of Ricci’s fall and the Executioner’s schemes, I’d ignored it too long. “I need to confirm s