All Chapters of 185 Days Bound To The Mafia Lord : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Aspen I felt something flutter in my chest. It was not quite relief and not quite embarrassment. It was something quiet and warm, like the beginning of a feeling I did not want to name yet. Killian was still speaking with one of the maids near the hallway. The maid nodded at whatever he said, then Killian brought out his phone from his pocket to make a call. “I will be right back,” Killian said, turning toward me briefly. “I need to take a call.”His voice was calm and slightly apologetic. He touched my arm softly, as if reassuring me, before stepping away to the far side of the hallway.I watched him disappear around the corner. Something in his posture looked sharp for a moment, focused on business, but then the moment vanished and he was gone. I turned back to the old man, still feeling the warmth from his compliment.Mr Davenport Senior smiled at me in a way that felt comforting. His eyes had the softness of someone who had lived a full life and was ready to pass on wisdom whene

ASPENThe ride to the party felt longer than it actually was. The car was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Killian sat beside me, gaze occasionally drifting in my direction like he was still trying to understand how I ended up looking like this.I kept my hands folded in my lap. I tried not to fidget, though the nerves twisted in my stomach. This was the first time I would be in public with him. The first time people would look at us and form opinions. The first time I would have to pretend that this was a real marriage.Killian watched me again, resting his elbow on the window.“Are you nervous?” he asked.I hated that he could read me so easily. “A little.”“You will be fine,” he said simply.As if it was obvious. As if he had decided that nothing could go wrong because he was here. He had a dangerous level of confidence in his presence. The kind of confidence that usually made people step aside instead of challenge him.When the car stopped, he got out first, then offered hi

KILLIANI should have killed him.The thought repeats itself, steady, sharp, and hungry, as I stalk down the hallway of the party. The noise of laughter, glasses clinking, music humming in the background , all meaningless, all distracting. There is only one thing that matters.Aspen.The man, some bold, arrogant fool, had thought he could corner her. He had followed her to the bathroom and, God help me, leaned too close. Whispered too much. Acted like she was some prize he could just look at, touch, and handle.I should have ended him before he even touched her.I left Aspen in the car. I told her I would be right back. She gave me that look, half-exasperated, half-trusting, before she sat back in the leather seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, just enough to make my chest tighten. I hate that it does.I do not feel things. I do not care. I am supposed to be cold, composed, untouchable. Yet seeing her sitting there, trusting me to come back

ASPENThe sunlight slipped in through the curtains in golden slivers, touching my skin like the quiet insistence of reality. I squinted against it, stretching my limbs lazily across the bed, my muscles still sore from the night before. The warmth from Killian’s presence lingered, a ghostly ache in my chest and stomach. His hands, his weight, the low, rough whispers in the dark, I could still feel them. I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in the quiet, letting it seep into my bones.I pushed myself upright. The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets still dented, a crooked pillow marking the space he had left behind. My heart tightened, a mix of irritation and longing I refused to name. He was gone. Typical. He always disappeared after, as if us fucking was something dangerous, something he could not allow himself to admit he wanted. Fine. Let him have his pride. I could handle mornings alone. I had done worse.Just as I reached for my dress tossed over the chair, my phone vi

Aspen The hospital smelled the same every time I walked in: antiseptic, faintly sweet medicine, and a metallic tang that clung to the air. I gripped the handle of the door and paused, taking a deep breath. I had been here so many times in the past week, trying to see her, trying to talk to her, and every visit ended the same way. She refused me. She wanted Clear, my sister, and only Clear.“Come on, Aspen,” I whispered to myself, straightening my shoulders. “You can do this.”I pushed the door open. Her room was quiet except for the low hum of the monitors. Mom lay in bed, pale and frail, the stark hospital sheets tucked neatly around her. Her eyes, once bright with calculation and command, now darted around the room with suspicion. When she saw me, her gaze sharpened instantly.“You again,” she said, her voice rough and brittle. “How many times are you going to come here? Haven’t you done enough already?”I forced a small smile and stepped closer. “I just wanted to see how you were