All Chapters of The Mafia's Angel: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

KianI was standing at the altar at the pavilion they had rented. I had on a dark blue tux; according to Tattia, it would match her dress. Dante, Gio, and Antonio were beside me. There were well over one hundred people here, business acquaintances and mostly family. Her colleagues were here, and so was Grant. Matthew was here. His son was the ring bearer. They rented a tent, and everyone was out here; the sun was behind us, and it was the perfect moment.She had two rings already, but I was still giving her another. She asked Mathew to walk her down the aisle, and that was fine with us. I heard the wedding march and looked to the right, and there she was.My breath caught in my throat. Her wedding dress was unlike anything I had ever imagined. Tattia was a master at what she did. The bodice was a masterpiece of intricate embellishments, shimmering with what looked like thousands of tiny beads and delicate lace patterns that sparkled under the soft lighting of the tent. It flowed down

KianI was looking at Roscoe; he was in my office. “So?” I asked, looking at him.“She wants her dead, Boss,” he said without flinching or without any emotion. Shit, I think my family’s craziness was rubbing off on her. “Do it,” I said.“Yes, boss.” After he left, I just sat there. She was outside going over some papers for work, and I was bothering her, so she yelled at me. She has another appointment tomorrow with the clinic Wiseman referred her to. I would go with her. When she came to bed, it was close to three.When I woke up she wasn't on the bed; I heard it. I jumped off the bed and went to the bathroom; I found her bent over, throwing up. I moved her hair away and rubbed her back.“Why didn't you wake me up?”After she finished throwing up, I looked at her. “How long have you been throwing up?”“An hour ago,” she said.“Okay, come on, let’s get you a shower and some breakfast, then the clinic.” “Okay,” she said quietly. She didn't; she couldn't stomach anything. She just d

AlessandraI was having a cup of tea when Roscoe walked in; Kian had already left for the office. “Madam?”“Yes, Roscoe?”“She is in the hospital. It was done last night,” he said, and I couldn't help but smile. “Is she conscious?” I asked.“Yes, she is, well, mostly in and out. She won’t be released anytime soon. She is currently on medication and IV fluids,” he said. I took my time and stood up and smiled.“Let’s pay her a visit. Oh,we should also get some flowers and fruits for her,” I said, still smiling, and I saw the slight smile on his face. I grabbed my handbag and walked out. On the drive to the hospital, I texted Kian to let him know where I was going, and I had security with me. He replied, saying okay.I stopped at a flower shop and picked up some flowers. “Mrs. Arreas, there is a place that sells get-well fruit baskets; should we get one?” Roscoe asked.“Of course, everyone will see us. We need to make sure she has the best.” Roscoe was loving this shit, because I saw hi

AlessandraI woke up before the sun even bothered to show up. The house was quiet, that soft kind of silence that makes you feel like the world’s still thinking about waking up. I was wrapped in Kian’s arms, his breath warm against the back of my neck, his hand resting protectively over my still-flat stomach like he expected someone to run off with the baby overnight.Honestly, the man slept like he was guarding a royal jewel.I slipped out of bed gently, mostly because if I woke him, I’d never make it out of the room. The second he’d realize I was up, he’d drag me back under the covers and pretend like morning didn’t exist.When I crept downstairs, the smell of espresso already drifted through the air. That could only mean one thing.Nonna was awake.Sure enough, there she was, tiny and fierce as ever, sitting at the kitchen island with her espresso cup like a queen holding court. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said the second she noticed me. “You should still be resting. You’re gro

AlessandraMonth 3Pregnancy hormones are like being possessed by a crying ghost who loves snacks.I woke up this morning already sobbing because Kian’s pillow smelled like laundry detergent and feelings. Then I cried again because I loved him so much. Then again, because the sun was too bright. Then again, because I suddenly missed strawberries… while eating strawberries.Yeah. Just chaos.By the time we got downstairs and saw them preparing for the baby shower, I had cried four times, threatened to fight a chair that scraped my ankle, and hugged Kian’s arm like a koala so he wouldn't dare escape my emotional spiral.“Hey,” Kian murmured while guiding me toward the yard, “breathe, love. Today’s a happy day.”“I’m happy!” I wail. “That’s the problem!”He just nodded like this made perfect sense. “Of course it is.”Tables are covered in pink and blue decorations everywhere, like someone flipped a cotton candy machine and said, “Yes, perfect.” There are banners, balloons, giant teddy be