All Chapters of Half a Lifetime Later—My Mafia Princess is Finally Mine: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ The hours crawled by. I stayed right there, in a chair by his bed, watching every rise and fall of his chest. His fever finally began to dip but not much, but enough that he stopped thrashing against the sheets. I didn't dare leave. I knew how these things went, one minute he’s resting, the next he’s back in the dark, calling out for people who aren't there. My hand felt heavy as I reached for my phone. With a shaky breath, I tapped Rino’s contact, the one I had saved with just a simple, private heart. I held the phone to my ear, praying for the sound of his deep voice, or even just the scratchy hum of him breathing on the other end. “The mobile customer you are looking for is not available...” I squeezed my eyes shut, a sharp pain blooming in my chest. I dropped the phone on the nightstand, the hollow thud echoing in the room, and pulled a thick throw blanket up to my chin. I curled my legs up, trying to make myself small. I looked at Remo, his face finally st

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ He actually rolled his eyes, a tiny, genuine huff of amusement escaping him before he sank deeper into the pillow. "God... you sound just like Silvio when you're being a brat." The air in the room seemed to shift instantly. I froze. Hearing Silvio's name come out of Remo's mouth, especially in a way that sounded so... familiar, caught me completely off guard. "What?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Remo’s eyes went wide for a split second, a flicker of "I messed up" that he tried to bury instantly. He stiffened, his body going rigid against the pillows as he pulled his hand back under the covers. "What did you just say?" I asked again, "How do you know what Silvio sounds like when he..." I trailed off. Remo let out a sharp, forced breath and looked away at the wall, his jaw working so hard, "I didn't say anything. The meds are hitting me, Alessia. I’m seeing double. I’m probably just talking out of my ass." "You said I sound like him," I stated, "You said

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I didn't stop to catch my breath. I ran down the gravel driveway, my lungs screaming, my heart a frantic, messy drumbeat in my ears. "The car! I need the car!" I yelled, my voice cracking before I even reached the gate. Two guards snapped to attention. They exchanged a wary, confused look. They had gotten used to seeing me as the woman who sat in the dark clutching a jacket. They weren't used to this, me, wide-eyed, gasping for air. "Signora?" one of them asked, stepping into my path, his hand resting instinctively on his holster. "Where are you going? Remo said—" "I don't care what Remo said!" I shoved past him, my hands shaking so hard I had to clench them into fists. "Take me to the docks. Now." "The harbor?" the driver asked, already moving toward the black SUV. "We checked the harbor yesterday, Signora. We checked every slip, every—" "Not the harbor," I interrupted, my voice rising with a frantic, desperate hope. "The Lombardi private docks. The o

Rino ─𖤝─ The fire was roaring now, the orange light dancing over the walls. I laid her down on the thick rug, my hands fumbling, moving with a frantic, clumsy speed I’d never felt before. I was the guy who could strip a weapon in pitch blackness in under ten seconds, but right now, I couldn't even get a grip on the zipper of her dress. "Come on. Come on, Alessia, don't do this," I whispered. The ribbed fabric was heavy and soaked with the freezing Mediterranean. It clung to her skin like a second layer of ice. I finally found the tab and yanked it down. I had to peel the dress off her shoulders, the fabric making a sickening, wet sound as it came away from her blue-tinged skin. She was a dead weight. I had to lift her slightly, my arm behind her cold, sharp shoulder blades, to slide the dress down her hips. She didn't move. She didn't groan. She just lay there, her head lolloped to the side, her hair a matted, dark mess across the rug. I moved to her bra, my fingers shaking so

Rino ─𖤝─ "Hands on the edge," I grunted. I watched her knuckles go white as she gripped the wood. I reached down and yanked the oversized sweatpants down her legs. They pooled around her ankles, leaving her exposed, draped only in my white button-down. The fabric was so big on her that the collar slid down, baring her pale shoulder and almost spilling one of her breasts into the wood. Looking at her like this made my head spin. My hands were shaking, and I fumbled with my own waistband, my heart hammering a hole in my chest. Part of me was still waiting to wake up. I was waiting for the dream to shatter, for the kitchen to go cold and the smell of her skin to turn into the smell of sea salt and loneliness again. For two months, I had been a dead man walking on this island. I’d spent every night staring at the ceiling, trying to conjure the ghost of her laugh, the way she looked when she was annoyed with me, the feel of her small hand in mine. Now she was here. Actually here.