The Mafia King’s Queen のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

RoccoThe office still reeked of gunpowder and cologne.The meeting was over. My brothers sat around the table, chairs shoved back, half-full glasses of whiskey, tension still hanging in the air.But all I could think of was her.Fiorella D'Angelo.She hadn't just entered the room.She'd commanded it.My brothers were bad men, men who didn't bat an eye when bodies hit the ground or when deals turned bloody. But when she walked in here with her father tonight, they looked at her with something like respect.Hell, even I did.She wore black, close-fitting pants that hugged her hips, silk blouse loose enough to suggest softness, but nothing on her was soft. Her hair drawn back, face calm, eyes slicing through steel.She didn't take a seat until her father did. But when she did, she leaned forward and spoke, not hesitantly, not obsequiously, but as an equal.“We're not here to beg for protection," she stated."We're here to offer opportunity. Our resources. Our routes. Our men. We know

RoccoThe wall clock was ticking too loudly. Or maybe it was just me.I was in Rafael's office, the scent of his cologne and fresh cigars heavy in the air. He was on the phone, speaking Italian to one of our foreign contacts. Riccardo was opposite me, tapping out a message on his phone, probably to one of his side interests.I should've been focused on numbers, shipments, and security.But my mind kept drifting.The warehouse ambush.Her.Fiorella D'Angelo.Fire and steel wrapped in silk.A mouth that didn't know how to submit.I clenched my teeth.No one spoke to me the way she did. No one dared push back, matching my cold with their own heat.And I liked it.More than I should.Rafael ended his call.His eyes narrowed on me. Calculating. He knew me better than anyone."There's the annual Venetian Ball next Saturday," he said offhandedly, as one might mention the weather.I scowled. "And?""The D'Angelos will be there."I didn't say a word."I think," Rafael continued, leaning back i

RoccoTime slowed.Fiorella froze, the gun placed between her eyes.I didn't think.Didn't breathe.I fired.The man fell before his finger could squeeze the trigger.His gun dropped to the ground.Fiorella didn't flinch.She simply turned her head slightly, her eyes on me with a subtle nod.Unfazed.God, she was something else."Move," I growled, pulling her wrist and dragging her toward the alley at the rear of the ballroom.My car was two streets away.We weaving through smoke and rubble, bodies groaning in the distance, sirens too late to do any good.She was quiet beside me, but her tension radiated like heat.Not fear.Anger.By the time we finally got into the car, she was grasping the gash on her cheek, blood pouring down her jaw.I looked at her for a moment too long.The heave of her breasts.The fire in her eyes."I've had worse," she snarled."That was too close."She slid a sideways glance my way. "I don't need you playing hero."I started the engine, tires protesting as

RoccoI closed her door softly behind me, but her presence remained, burning, fierce, and impossible to resist.Fiorella D'Angelo was not what I had anticipated.I expected arrogance, maybe vanity, a princess whose head was too big for a crown.A queen instead.All angles and metal beneath silk.I descended the hall, the stairs echoing through the quiet of the De Luca compound.I should have gone straight to my room, but my mind was troubled.Instead, I found myself in Rafael's study.He was already there, a glass of whiskey in his hand, eyes black and unreadable.Riccardo was lying on the couch, surfing something on his phone, but at the sight of me, his focus shifted to me.Rafael didn't ask.He poured a glass and pushed it across the gleaming desk."She's not just her father's daughter," I said after a moment, mixing the amber liquid."No," Rafael agreed. "She's worse."I laughed dryly, without mirth."She never even batted an eye tonight. Took out two men before I even pulled out

RoccoThe meeting was a storm in abeyance.Rafael spoke strategy. Riccardo joshed with black menace. But all I could think about was her.Fiorella sat across from me in Rafael's office, back straight, eyes flashing, every word calculated and in control. She talked like someone used to giving orders, and I bristled at how much I liked it.“We'll redeploy our men to defend the east perimeter at dusk," she told me.I shook my head. "We've already taken it. My men are familiar with the terrain."Her eyes flashed to mine, steel against steel."I trust my men," she said, her voice soft, but the challenge clear.I leaned forward. "And I trust mine.".The battle of wills sparked between us, heavy enough that Rafael cleared his throat and spoke of answering a call outside. Riccardo followed him, but first gave me a pointed smile. He felt the tension too.The moment the door shut, there was silence.Me and her alone.I took my time, walking to the bar to prepare a drink I didn't need. I could f