Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Mafia's Bride: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Chapter Twenty-Two"NICCOLO," Carlotta greeted her unexpected guests, returning their warm hugs with familiar smile.Niccolo was a college ex—semi-boyfriend, as she used to call him.Semi, because their relationship had never been official. Now that she thought about it, he was part Italian, wasn't he? But she'd never allowed herself to get too attached, he was far too much of a flirt. That, and he'd had to return to Italy after running into issues with his student visa. Belinda didn't know him well since he'd only briefly been part of their circle, mostly tagging along with his best friend, Bradley."It's been a while," Niccolo said, giving her a once-over. "And wow. You look absolutely hot.""Thanks. You don't have to butter me up," she smirked. "Oh, do you still remember how to speak Tagalog?""Of course."When the people around them cleared their throats, the two of them laug

Chapter Twenty-FourGIOVANNI had been waiting. His every nerve honed, every muscle coiled, attuned to Carlotta's arrival.From the moment she stepped into L'Albergio Hotel, his eyes were locked on her. Every surveillance camera fed her movements straight to his screen. Even when she slipped into the private elevator accessible only to the hotel's owner, he was still watching. So yes. He knew exactly how nervous she was.He'd been determined to ignore his brother's crazy antics. He had his own plans in motion, carefully calculated and airtight.But after what he saw that day, something inside him snapped.No one has the fucking right to touch her but me, he seethed.The way that walking twig looked at Carlotta, like she was dessert laid out just for him—made Giovanni's fists clench. His hands itched to wipe that smug little look clean off the bastard's face.And Carlotta? She wasn't exactly pushing

Chapter Twenty-Six"OOH, gosh," Carlotta gasped, covering her face with one trembling hand, as if trying to hide from the overwhelming heat still pulsing through her body.Where was the woman who, just moments ago, had been seething with rage at Alessandro Giovanni Duvall-Galliardi?Gone.Lost somewhere between the press of his mouth and the curl of his fingers.In those dizzying moments of ecstasy within Giovanni's arms, she had forgotten everything. Her anger. Her doubts. Even the lies.When he kissed her again, her lips responded instinctively, like they were done pretending to be mad. And when he settled between her thighs, they parted on their own accord, welcoming him in with shocking ease.She was half-curious, half-excited as her hand drifted lower, down to the thick, rigid heat between his thighs. Her touch was slow and deliberate, her fingers wrapping around the full length of him. He was hard, hot, and impo

 Chapter Twenty-Eight WHAT'S mine stays mine. I don't share. Not glances. Not touches. Those words echoed through every corner of Carlotta's mind like a damn mantra she hadn't asked for. If Giovanni had just said he was jealous, maybe—just maybe—she'd have been flattered. Giddy, even. But, no. What he said came out more like a declaration of ownership. As if she were something his father bought and he just didn't feel like sharing with the neighbors. "I know you don't like heavy breakfasts," Giovanni said, appearing at her side and gestured toward the table. Without waiting for her to

Chapter ThirtyDUSK filtered gently through the sheer curtains of Carlotta's bedroom, casting a soft amber hue across the walls and pooling like liquid gold on the polished wooden floor. The scent of evening—part humidity, part the faint aroma of sampaguita from the garden—drifted in through the open sliding windows, carried by a warm breeze that stirred the edges of her lace-trimmed duvet.Her room, tucked into the eastern wing of their two-story semi-mansion, held a quiet charm that hadn't aged with the house. The structure stood with quiet dignity in one of Makati's older middle-class subdivisions, a little worn around the edges but full of character. Capiz windows, a wrought-iron balcony, and narra floors that creaked in familiar ways gave it a sense of nostalgia newer homes lacked. It had weathered decades of monsoon rains and Manila heatwaves and still stood, a little crooked, a little proud.Carlotta stirred beneath the linen