All Chapters of The Don's Property: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ELARA POVI flinch as he suddenly rises to his feet. My head tilts up instinctively, and I catch his face, darkened, and dangerous, like a storm gathering behind his eyes.“What?” I manage, my voice catching on the word. I have no idea what I’ve done wrong. I’ve been good for the past, what… five minutes?He narrows his eyes at me. A low growl escapes him before he turns on his heel and storms out. My brows knit as I stare after him, eyes tracing the ripple of muscle beneath his tailored suit, and watching the broad shoulders, and the taut frame disappear through the doorway.Whatever that was supposed to mean, I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s gone. I might talk big, but around him? I’m a trembling mess.There’s something about him, with the way he owns every inch of space, how the air itself bends around his presence. Christ, it’s a miracle I didn’t spill my food under that piercing gaze.With him gone, the tension drains from my shoulders. I finally breathe, shovel food into my mo

THE DEVIL POVFor a second, I almost laugh. Almost. “You forget where you are, uccellina.”“And you forget I’m not one of your men,” she says, her voice steady even though I can see her pulse jumping at her throat.My jaw tightens, the muscle ticking. None of my men would dare, yet here she stands, looking me dead in the eye like she’s untouchable. Like she knows she is.“I don’t like to repeat myself.”“Still a no,” she says. “You’ll have to root me out of this seat.”My brow arches. The challenge hangs in the air like smoke, and I see the flicker of regret cross Elara’s face as if she realizes what she’s just invited.The chair legs scrape against the marble as I stand, my long strides eating the distance between us. I see her pulse jump in the hollow of her throat. Still, a spark of defiance burns in her eyes, like she’s daring me.When I get near, Elara bolts from the chair, in a blur of white dress and silk black hair.By the time she crosses half the dining room, my hand has alr

ELARA POVHis face hardens, a flicker of distaste cutting through his expression.I rush to correct myself. “It’s the only pair I have after the white dress Diana gave me.”“Was that hard to say?” His brow arches.“A little, yes,” I admit. “Being nice to you is hard.” It was a half-truth. Holding my tongue was the hard part, not the politeness.He shakes his head, a low grumble vibrating in his chest. The sound ripples through me, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.Florien walks in then—Velina, Diavolo's chef, mentioned her name yesterday.I whisper a quick “thank you,” and she gives a small nod before darting out, not daring to meet Diavolo’s gaze.This man terrifies everyone. Everyone.“I won’t be back until tomorrow.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room.My eyebrows furrow. “How’s that got to do with me?” suddenly my next words come out softer than I’d like. “Why are you telling me this?” Yuck.“Because I want you to stay in line.”I frown as a flicker of irritation f

NERO POVI hate the tremor in my fingers as I palm a cigarette from the pack. It’s a faint, barely-there quiver, but it’s enough to make me want to put my fist through dark, wood-paneled wall of my office.My meeting with the Bratva ended three hours ago. It was supposed to go until morning, but then Diana called and said three words that had me leaving a table of pakhan-level men without an excuse.Elara è scomparsa.Now, it’s been two hours of tearing the estate apart, and she still hasn't been found.My thoughts scramble toward the worst, something dark and cold uncoiling in my chest. I drag on the cigarette, but the smoke is just ash in my mouth, doing nothing to calm me.“Has she been found?” I ask Luca, who stands silhouetted in the doorway behind me.“They are still looking, sir.”A groan builds low in my throat. “It’s about to rain, and she’s out there—” My voice cuts when it cracks with an anger I can't control.Fuck.“They’ll find her soon,” Luca says, steady in a way that o

ELARA POVI shove the door open, spilling out onto the sun-drenched steps. A black sedan car is parked at the curb, its front window rolled down, and naturally, I head for the passenger door, grasping the handle.“The back.” The low grumble comes from the caveman that’s always attached at the hip to Nero.“Cool,” I say, legs shuffling to the left. “I just thought it’s rude to sit at the back while you drive me around.” I wrench open the rear door and slide onto the plush leather. “But it’s cool nonetheless.”His head doesn’t so much as twitch in my direction, nor does his gaze wander. It’s as if I don’t exist. Considering the fact that I’m a head-turner, my pride is a little hurt.We stew in the silence, and I swear he has the same presence as his boss because I can feel my chest closing. I watch him from the back. A finger taps on the wheel, and his low whistle fills the car as his gaze flicks occasionally to the entrance. His massive build fills the driver's chair completely.Eventu