All Chapters of Running From The Mafia CEO: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

This is wrong. I know it with every step I take through the winding gravel path, heels crunching against earth, palms damp at my sides.The villa rises out of the hillside like something out of a dream—or a warning. Secluded, expensive and ancient. Thick stone walls and ivy curling up around the windows, lanterns flickering like they’re waiting for someone.Like he’s waiting.The night air is warm, too quiet, and the scent of jasmine clings to it heady and distracting. I feel it winding around my senses, softening my thoughts, fogging my judgment.My phone is in my back pocket. All it would take is one call. A single breath, and I could bring everything down on him.But I don’t. Instead, I walk up the steps.The iron door is already ajar, like a welcome message. Or bait, depending on how foolish I turn out to be by the end of the night. I push it open slowly.Inside, it’s quiet. The foyer is dimly lit, with expensive art and tall windows thrown open to the midnight breeze. Somewhere

Maya’s POV “I’ve assigned you as the lead consultant on the case, Jenna.”James pushes his glasses higher on his nose, his fingers tapping anxiously against the desk as he looks up at me.“You’re the best fit we have, and the project’s guaranteed to bring us the kind of clients we desperately need.” He leans back in his chair with a pointed, impatient sigh. “It’s also from the government. So it’s not like we can say no to them.”If he’d asked me before he made the decision…But he didn’t.I inhale slowly, folding my hands in my lap, pressing my thumbs together to keep from snapping. “I’m not saying you should turn it down,” I say carefully. “But I’m sure someone else on the team can take over as lead. I can coordinate everything from here—handle the framework, delegate the reports.”James raises an eyebrow. The polite part of the conversation is over.He folds his arms, and I know that look. I’ve seen it during every client pitch, every quarterly review, every time someone even sugge

Lucien’s POV “Have you found her?” Jamie strides into my office an hour after they leave, his hand tucked into his pocket. “Because I haven’t. It never takes me this long to find anyone and I’ve been at it for days.”He rubs the back of his neck with a displeased frown and sinks into the chair. He drags it close, slapping his hands on the desk. “One other thing.”Here it comes. His brow arches quizzically. “You didn’t tell me she used to work for the CIA. When I was going to get that piece of information?” He tutts. “You gotta start telling me things, man. I almost walked into a room full of trip wires. Not a room—” he gestures when I tilt my head slowly and my lips flatten, “—but you get what I mean. I could’ve alerted them to my not-so pleasant activities.”I lean back without a response, folding my arms loosely. “So?” He prompts. “Is she under witness protection? Did she kill someone? I asked if you fell in love with her and you brushed it off. What’s going on?”He’s closer to

Maya The boot hits the floor with a thud and I feel another of my patience slip away. I bite my tongue, swallowing down my frustration as I straighten from my crouch. “Woah,” I mutter as the ground tilts, reaching out with a hand to the wall to steady myself. I close my eyes for a moment, shake my head and open them again.“Okay,” I clear my throat with renewed purpose, heading over to grab the rejected boot. I turn with it in hand, facing my daughter standing at the far end of the corridor, with both hands firmly crossed in protest and a defiant pout on her face. “Remember what we said about communication? How you tell mommy what you don’t want instead of throwing a tantrum?” I say slowly, enunciating every word. “Ari?” She nods, but I hear the huff that slips out. At least we’re making some progress. I take a deep breath, then a much deeper one when my alarm goes on in the living room. I set it ten minutes earlier than yesterday, so I have some time. Some, not a lot.“So–”I slap

“Sure,” she nods. “It’s fine.”“Jenna,” I murmur as I brace my hands on either side of my chair, my fingers stretching over the edge of the armrests. It doesn’t feel the same. Even when she said her name was Elena, it tasted odd on my tongue, like something was missing. Now, Maya—that fits. Warm, blue eyes, Maya, with a tiny dent in her chin whenever she tilted it in defiance. Long, wavy hair, like silk threads between my fingers, and that soft—my eyes drop to her mouth, to the tiny space between her lips, and I inhale sharply, struck with a jolt in my chest that feels nothing like the measured, carefully-chosen words passing between us. I clear my throat as my fingernails dig into the leather, biting through the surface. “I think I’ll stick with Miss Carr,” I say. “I wouldn’t want your colleague to think I’m crossing any professional lines.” I glance at the door, then slowly back at her. That goddamn band around her ponytail. Her hair is shorter than it was five years ago, but