Semua Bab THE MAFIA'S REVENGE BRIDE: Bab 1 - Bab 5

Marco's POVI hated parties like this.And my dad was fully aware of that.Actually, he was fully aware of a lot of things about me that I hated being paraded around, that I hated smiling at people and faking that I was interested in them, that I hated tuxedos that cost more than most people paid in rent. He was aware of all of that. But he didn't care.I was his pawn, his golden boy, the son destined to maintain the Powell name shining as if it belonged in history books.Me lucky.I readjusted my black tie for the last time, smoothed out my hair to the back of my head, and tried to give myself a neutral look before heading downstairs. The marble steps glistened under the light of the chandeliers, tempting me with how impeccable everything had to be here — and that included me.The ballroom was alive, with rumor, forced laughter, and the clink of glasses. Gowns shone, cufflinks sparkled, and I hated every second of it. The gatherings were indistinguishable. Wealthy benefactors. Journa

Dante's POVThe office was still, except for the quiet hum of the very old ceiling fan slicing through the stifling Sicilian heat. The gun on my desk glowed in the sunlight, poised like a good dog for me to make the signal. I reclined in my leather chair, my hand casually resting on the armrest, and stared at it.The barrel had a residual odor of gunpowder from last night.I should have killed him.That had been nagging me from morning, perching like a bird of prey. Marco Powell. The golden boy. The President's pristine little boy, in his designer jackets and superior scowl. I should have done for him then and there in the hallway, before he could regard me with those superior blue eyes as if I were some street punk who could be bought off with his father's money.But I hadn't.And now he was in my basement, bleeding on my floor, breathing my air — a hostage, a bargaining chip, a pawn in a game his father had started the moment he decided to double-cross me.I hunched forward, elbows

Dante's POVThe moment I put my mouth on him, I knew he was mine.I should not have crossed that line. I should not have laid my hands, my lips, my everything on Marco Powell — the golden son of the man who betrayed me.He was supposed to be leverage. Nothing more.A pawn I would have used to bring his father to his knees.But that kiss…That damned kiss.It was supposed to humiliate him, remind him his life was mine to do with as I pleased. Instead, it seared through me like bourbon, like gunpowder.I could not get out of my head the taste of him — anger and defiance and something sinfully sweet underneath.I threw back another shot of bourbon, the bitter-sweet taste burning its way down my throat.I would not let the spoiled son of an upstart politician get my head twisted like this.The office was quiet except for the gentle snap of the fire behind me, the only light filtering across the dark wood of my desk. Leonardo stood beside me, his face cut from stone as he let me enjoy the