All Chapters of FORCED TO BE A MAFIA QUEEN: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

SIERRA"Sierra." His deep voice was laced with a heavy sigh. ​I kept my eyes shut tight and didn't move a muscle, hoping to convey that I was already asleep.​He sighed again, louder this time. "Don't be stubborn and just get into the bed."I didn't move and didn't make a sound.Actually, the fight had drained my energy, leaving me with a weary acceptance. He was right, this was his house and his rules. Arguing further would only lead to a repeat of the afternoon's intense, regrettable intimacy.I took a shower in his bathroom and put on my pajamas. ​When I re-entered the room, Alessandro was already in bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows, reading a thick, leather-bound book. He glanced up as I approached, his eyes tracking me as I walked past the king-sized bed and went straight for the large velvet couch nestled in the corner.​I smoothed a cushion, lay down, pulled a throw blanket over myself, and curled my back toward the room, deliberately facing the wall. I closed my

SIERRA​​I worked meticulously, checking the IV drip to ensure the antibiotics flowed smoothly. Every hour, I took his temperature, grimacing when the thermometer registered above the danger line and sighing with relief when it dipped by a tenth of a degree. I kept a careful log on a notepad the doctor had left, detailing the time, temperature, and fluids given.​Alessandro was still restless, occasionally tossing his head and groaning. Several times, he was lucid enough to resist my efforts, pulling his hand away from the cool compress or batting weakly at the glass of water.​"Drink this, Alessandro," I insisted softly, holding the glass straw to his lips. "Just a little. You need it."​"No," he mumbled roughly. "Tired."I sigh. He's making this difficult for me.​"Tired is fine," I say, gently but firmly cupping the back of his neck to steady him. “But dehydration is not fine. Open your mouth, right now. You haven’t had a proper sip of water in hours,” I ordered, with a hint of irr

SIERRAI woke to the soft, golden light of the morning streaming through the gaps in the heavy drapes. My neck was stiff because I had fallen asleep in the armchair beside the bed. ​I straightened up immediately and looked at the bed.​Alessandro was awake. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand, watching me. The feverish flush was gone, replaced by a pale but normal color. The sharpness had returned to his eyes, though they were tinged with deep exhaustion. He looked like the formidable man I knew, but subdued.​"You look terrible," I observed bluntly, rubbing the sleep from my own eyes.​A slow, weak smile touched his lips. "It seems my wife is an angel of mercy and a diplomat of compliments."​"I've been sitting up all night. You're the one who was nearly cooked alive," I retorted, standing and stretching out the stiffness in my back. I walked to the bedside table and checked the IV line, which was nearly empty. "How do you feel?"​"Like I went three rounds with

SIERRA​"Yes," Alessandro confirmed as his gaze remained unwavering on mine. "You have the clearest head, and you see the situation without the personal bias that Dimitri carries. I have two options, and both carry risks, but one is less likely to expose me directly while I recover." I stared at him with my brows furrowed in confusion. “Dimitri wants to hit Fiume’s main distribution point in the north, forcing him to divert funds from Malta back into logistics. This is the standard response, aggressive and satisfying, but it makes us predictable and could escalate into a public bloody conflict. Or we ignore the distraction and focus on the Malta account. We leverage my contacts to freeze or drain that specific shell entity. This hits him where it hurts, which is his funding, without directly involving our men in a fight. It's cleaner, but it depends entirely on whether my contacts can move fast enough." He stared at me with his expectant expression. "Which one, Sierra? The blood or

SIERRAI sank into a nearby armchair as I stared at the woman in the picture. The woman in the picture was undeniably lovely, radiating a warmth that seemed to physically contrast with Alessandro’s typically formidable posture.Her hand rested casually on his arm, and the way he leaned slightly toward her suggested a deep, easy intimacy. More intimate than Gianna.​My chest tightened with a sharp, unexpected pang of emotion. ​Who was she? A sister? A cousin? Or something more? The way his eyes crinkled with unrestrained joy in the photo suggested a relationship that was far more affectionate and carefree.​I flipped the photo over, hoping for a name or a date, but the back was blank and yellowed with age.​I felt a sudden need to know, a need to pierce the wall he kept around his feelings. ​As I stared at the photo, the heavy silence of the library was suddenly broken by a soft click of the locked door of the library.​I froze. ​My heart hammered as I ducked down. He was not suppo