All Chapters of The Mafia King’s Queen : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

RoccoBy the time I pulled into the driveway of the De Luca estate, the sun was fully up. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only the early morning, when the rest of the world was just beginning to wake up, could bring. I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, scrubbing my hand over my face. It was a long night. A long couple of nights.Walking in, I barely made it through the door before Riccardo yelled out."Well, well. Look who finally came home."I ignored him, shutting the door behind me and walking past him."Spent the night in comforting your flower I guess?" he asked, a smile in his voice. "Had to be some sad night, poor girl. Bet she was crying all the tears out and needed lots of consolation."I stared at him, pissed. "Shut up, Riccardo." One of these days I’d put a gun to his leg to shut him up, he’s so fucking annoying.He grinned, stretching his arms above his head as he slumped against the couch. "Not denying it though."I didn't feel like hearing his je

RoccoI didn't see him come over.One moment, I was watching Fiorella disappear into the crowd, her head held high despite the storm gathering behind her eyes. The next, a huge shadow loomed beside me, weighted with power and hidden anger.Vittorio D'Angelo.He was older than her father, built like a man who had spent his youth commanding rooms and breaking kneecaps. His grey hair was slicked back, his suit expensive but outdated, and his dark eyes sized me up with a mixture of scrutiny and thinly veiled disdain."You must be Rocco De Luca," he said, his voice smooth, like a snake slithering over glass.I stood relaxed, hands in pockets, but upright back. "That's me."He nodded slowly, deliberately. "I've been watching you the last few weeks. You seem… committed."It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Fiorella and I are allies."Vittorio smiled, but his eyes did not. "Allies." He spoke the words twice, as if he were testing them out, balancing them on his tongue. "Let me give

RoccoThe casino pulsed with energy , giggles, the steady ring of chips, the occasional burst of victory or rage. I had a perfect view of the floor from where I stood. The flashing lights, the cigarette smoke wafting through the air, the subterranean tension that always lurked just beneath the surface of establishments like this.I leaned against the railing, drumming fingers absently on the glass as I surveyed the crowd. Business had been good. Money was coming in, the dealers were solid, and the security was where it should be.And then, I saw Riccardo.He was exactly where I should have known he'd be—leaning back in a chair at one of the VIP tables, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he toyed with a woman riding his lap. She was laughing, her bright red nails tracing the curve of his shoulder, as he held a drink in one hand and a stack of chips in the other.I chuckled Of course.I checked my watch. If he had time to waste, he had time to work.Pushing off the railing, I descend

RoccoI stepped into Rafael's office, the aroma of whiskey and cigarette smoke heavy in the air. Curtains were closed, shadows covering the dark mahogany desk where he sat, fingers tapping impatiently against the surface. His jaw was set, his normal stoic expression replaced by something somber—something brooding.I knew that look.Rosalia."You look like hell," I snarled, closing the door behind me.Rafael did not reply at once. He rotated the glass within his hand, the amber liquid picking up the pale light. Then, with a sigh, he drank it slowly before setting it down with more force than required."She's angry at me," he continued, speaking softly.I furrowed my brow. "Nothing new there."He shot me a glare, but there was no true flame behind it. "This time, it is different."I leaned against the desk, folding my arms. "How bad?"Rafael scrubbed his hand across his hair, a momentary flash of frustration. "She told me I was hiding things from her. Not trusting her." His voice was ro

RoccoThe casino was alive, pulsating with the aura of thrill, muffled mutterings of words, burst of laughter every now and then, the crisp rustling of cards. The scent of fine cigars and fine whiskey filled the air, thick and reassuring.I leaned against the second-story balcony railing, gazing down at the ground floor where businessmen in suits handled stacks of money as if they were trivialities. There were women draped across their shoulders, spouting sweet nothings they didn't mean.My focus was not on the high-rollers tonight.At the bar downstairs, Riccardo was all in pursuit mode.I grinned more or less in reflex. He'd been bragging about this girl non-stop for two entire days now, going on and on about how gorgeous she was, about how she had "the softest, most angelic face, but eyes that could destroy a man." I'd zoned out halfway through his blabbering.And here I was, waiting while he strode in, his signature cocky grin pasted on his face, confidence radiating from him in w