บททั้งหมดของ Contract Marriage to the Cold Hearted Mafia Boss : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Enzo I walk through each of the stations in the warehouse, supervising every step of the weapons manufacturing. Everything has to be perfect; we can't afford to make a single mistake if we want to surpass the Russians in this market, which has always been dominated by them. "What the hell does this mean?" I snap, noticing a defect in the magazine of one of the weapons in the testing phase. "Is it so difficult for you to understand the word PERFECT?!" I yell. "We need these fucking weapons to be perfect, or do you want us to look ridiculous in front of the Arabs?" Everyone lowers their gaze with respect, or perhaps fear. Maybe I'm exaggerating—it's just one weapon out of thousands—but I promised Antonio I wouldn't make a single mistake on this, and I don't plan on failing him. We are going up against the Bratva with this deal, and the risk has to be worth it. Besides, I have to admit that I'm not in the best mood. "Who is responsible for this?" I ask, but no one says anything. "

Arianna My whole body convulsed with the spasms of an intense orgasm, and without intending to, Enzo’s name was the one that was muffled on my lips. I ended up exhausted on the mattress, but a sound alerted me, and I lifted my head toward the door, searching for something, but I didn’t see anything. I’m going crazy, I thought. I returned to my position, tired after a long day, but guilt began to make its way through the pleasure. The same scene was repeated every night; after the orgasm, I began to feel bad about what I was doing. I wanted to blame it on a strict Catholic upbringing, which was ironic considering what my family did for a living. I had never considered myself a saint. I had been touching myself for a couple of years and enjoyed it, but I did it sporadically and with a certain shyness, very different from what was happening now. What was happening these days wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal. I thought I was getting sick. Could I be a nymphomaniac? The ques

Arianna The next day, I didn't bother to wake up early to see Enzo before he left. My plan to seduce him by showing off the sexy lingerie I bought clearly wasn't working. I affected him; I knew I did—his constant erection was proof of that—but it seemed his willpower was stronger than his desire, and I was starting to doubt that he would ever give in. I was getting tired. I left my room past ten in the morning, covered by a blue silk robe, but this time it was tightly tied. I had no intention of showing him anything if he was still here, which I doubted. "Good morning," I greeted the employee who was already in the kitchen making breakfast. "Good morning," Gina replied, as serious as ever. "Did the boss already leave?" "At dawn, according to what I was told." I didn't reply and headed straight for the coffee maker to make my coffee. I no longer shared it with Marco; he didn't want to put himself at risk, and I understood that, so I didn't pressure him. But today I needed

Arianna Marco and I left the apartment for the parking lot. Marco gave instructions to his team, and we set off for my night of madness. If it was going to be my last day alive, I would at least make it worthwhile.We arrived at the place sooner than I thought. There was a long line to get in, and I started to worry because I was already running late. I didn't see Derek among the crowd, which indicated he was already inside, and I didn't want him to think I had stood him up."Where are you going?" Marco asked, grabbing my arm."To stand in line," I replied with obviousness, but he looked at me as if I had grown a third eye."You're kidding, right?" he asked rhetorically.He's the one who's weird, but I didn't stop to ask or give explanations because he dragged me to the entrance. The doorman greeted him with a nod and lifted the velvet rope for us."Do you know him?" I asked as we walked inside."Of course. What's wrong with you? You're acting weird today."He's the one who's weird,

Arianna “Come on, baby, kill me,” I challenged. “Kill me or fuck me, you decide.” His grip intensified; he was truly suffocating me. The son of a bitch was going to kill me. The vein in his forehead bulged, the veins in his arm jumped, and his usually expressionless eyes now showed me a battle. I was surprised when he let go of me. “On your knees,” he ordered. I looked at him, confused. Was he going to execute me? “On your knees!” he repeated, raising his voice, and I obeyed. I knelt before him, trapped between his body and the door. His pelvis was at the level of my eyes, and I noticed the erection straining his pants. He pulled the gun from his back and for a moment I thought he’d shoot me, but he placed it on the dresser to the side. Then, he began to unbuckle his belt, and I understood his intentions. My mouth watered with anticipation. “You want to be treated like a whore?” he questioned. “Well, that's what we'll do.” He pulled out his hardened member, and my sex throbbed