All Chapters of The mafia and his hit man: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Avery’s POVThe house was too quiet without Rafa. The silence didn't feel safe, it felt like the opening scene of a horror movie.Lying in my bed, I felt restless. I should've been asleep hours ago, but sleep just wouldn’t come. My mind was full of thoughts about Rafa and what he might be doing. I didn't trust him; hell, I don't even trust myself.A sigh escaped my lips as I swung my legs over the side of the bed to the floor. The wooden floor was cold against my feet. I pulled on sweatpants and slipped into the hallway, walking down the corridor until I found a door.I knew I shouldn't be going into other people's rooms but my curiosity got the best of me, so I let myself in. I was half expecting alarms or guards to jump out, but nothing happened.I was about 90 percent sure this was Rafa’s office. The shelves were lined with books, files, and weapons neatly displayed on the far wall. The place smelled like gun oil and expensive leather.My fingers itched.I closed the door quietly b

Rafa’s POVI should’ve gotten up.I told myself that as I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling while Avery slept on my chest. Discipline has always been my anchor, but my meeting for the morning could wait. I don't linger, that's the rule.But he was still here.His hair tickled my chin, and his breath warmed my skin in slow, steady drags. His legs draped over mine possessively, in a way he would deny when he woke up.It had been a long time since someone slept in my bed; I always made sure of that.I shifted, testing whether I could move, and he responded with a half-asleep, annoyed whine, clinging to me. His words from earlier echoed in my head, and I almost laughed. He could swear up and down that none of this mattered, but his body always told the truth. Here he was, pressed to me, seeking comfort. This means nothing, indeed.I dragged my hand slowly along his spine, feeling his thin muscles. His body was honed for killing, not cuddling. I knew he was dangerous. I knew be

Avery’s POVI should have known something was wrong when Rafa asked me to come to his room. No, not ask he ordered.So here I was, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him button a crisp black shirt.“What do you want?” I asked sharply.He didn't even glance at me when he said, “We have a meeting tonight.”“We?”“Yes, we. You're coming with me.” His tone left no room for argument.I snorted. “I'm not your bodyguard.”“You're not,” he said as he tucked a gun into his holster. “You're my boyfriend.”My brain stalled. “Excuse me?”Finally, he turned toward me with a smirk tugging at his lips, like he had been waiting for my reaction. “You heard me. Sit down with the De Luca crew. They are old school, and they respect power plays. A man bringing his lover to the table makes a statement.”I stared at him. “The statement being what? You are unprofessional? That you mix business with pleasure…”“That their threats mean nothing,” he cut in sharply. “That I can afford to bring

Avery’s POVThe car was eerily silent.Rafa hadn't said a word since we left the party; he just sat there staring out the window, as if the city lights could soothe whatever storm was raging inside him.My hands trembled despite my fists clenched on my lap. I could still feel the recoil of the gun and Niko’s face when I pulled the trigger.I had done worse before, much worse. But this time, it felt different. Maybe because I hadn't done it for money or orders. I did it for him. For Rafa.He sat beside me, jaw clenched, his suit jacket open. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, as if holding something back. I wanted to say something, anything, but I stayed silent.My breath hitched when he finally looked at me.He didn't look angry; he looked... hungry.His gaze swept over me slowly, the same way it had before the party, only heavier now. My skin burned under his stare. My dress had shifted slightly, the slit revealing more skin. The faint sparkle from my earrings caught the dashbo

Avery’s POV The hot water stopped running fifteen minutes ago, but I stayed under it anyway. Unlike everything else, the shower was quiet and peaceful. When I turned it off, my hands were wrinkled, and my hair was messy. I grabbed a towel, wiped myself down, and threw on a tank top and sweats. My ribs still ached from earlier, but it wasn't too bad. The pain was familiar, and it kept me grounded. I went downstairs, running a hand through my wet hair. The house was quiet except for a faint voice from the living room. It was Rafa’s, and whoever he talked with was in trouble. He was pacing, phone in hand, and his shirt was still half open. A glass of whiskey sat on the table beside the couch. He looked like he hadn't sat down since I left. His voice was rough, and he was speaking so fast in Italian. I only caught part of the conversation—“Capito? Bene… Non mi importa. Fallo adesso.” When his eyes flicked up and met mine, he paused for a moment, then went right back to barking or