All Chapters of Mistaken Bride Of The Mafia CEO: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

RAVEN'S POVA second later the eruption of shots ceased as suddenly as it had begun.For a second, there was nothing but smoke and the ringing in my ears. Then I heard it. The sound of boots. Dozens of them. Moving in organized formation.Through the smoke, shapes appeared. Men in some kind of tactical gear, weapons up, moving with military-style coordination. Too many to count. Fifty. Maybe more.And in the midst of all them, stepping through corses as if he was walking a garden, there stood Xaviero Del Rios.He looked immaculate. Not a hair out of place, his expensive suit untouched by the violence all around him. He walked through the warehouse with a detached fascination of someone viewing an asset for sale."What a mess." There was his voice echoing through the room, calm and soft and sounding almost disappointed. "I'm ashamed of both di/nonne a voí.Kade had stopped, his hand on the hilt of his weapon. Our side - Javier and the rest of my men, were little by little becoming outn

RAVEN'S POVEverything I'd believed. Everything I'd accused Kade of. Everything I'd hated him for.It had all been a lie.My father hadn’t been murdered by the D’Angelos. He had died because he would not hand the formulas over to Xaviero. Because he was trying to help Dimitri D’Angelo take down the drug trade, not grow it.They'd been friends. Partners. Restoring the world together.And Xaviero had killed both of them."Kade." My voice came out hoarse. "I'm sorry."He looked up, his eyes red. "You're sorry? Raven, I'm sorry - I should be apologizing. I dragged you into this. I forced you to marry me. I led you to believe my family murdered your father.”“You were just as unaware of the truth.”"I suspected." His voice was raw. “I sensed my father transforming at the very end. Knew he was planning something. I just couldn't prove it. And when everyone was dead, when Xaviero and Damon both said that he’d ordered Arthur to be killed, I believed them. I thought my own father was a killer

RAVEN'S POVI couldn't sleep.Kade’s even breaths were something to focus on behind me, his heartbeats bumping and steady as he slept in the bed next to mine. He’d actually dozed about an hour ago, his hand still bridging the gap between us but with only the tips of his fingers grazing mine.Ten and a half months. That's how long I had to decide whether or not I wanted to remain married to Kade D'Angelo or move on with my life.The information should have felt freeing. Should have filled me with relief that I wasn't there forever, that the awfulness of this hitch was dated.It was more like a countdown. It was as though sand had started slipping through an hourglass, measuring something precious that would already run out.I studied Kade's face in the shadows cast by the hall light. He seemed younger in his sleep, the hard lines of his face relaxed. When he slept, the Reaper went away and only a man was there. A weary, ailing, flawed man who had somehow become important to me.When ha

RAVEN'S POVThe bakery looked different.I stood on the sidewalk outside Bird’s and Bread, looking at the familiar storefront that had somehow become different. The old, faded sign that my grandmother had painted was gone and replaced with something new — although it still bore her original design. The windows gleamed. And even the brick had been cleaned, decades of city grime scrubbed off to reveal the original warm red beneath."Kade did all this?" I inquired, but I already knew the reply.“When you were in hospital. Javier was at my side, one of four guards Kade had appointed to never leave my sight. “He had people working 24 hours a day. Must have wanted a read them when you got back.”I went and tapped the shiny new glass door, staring at my own reflection. The bruises on my neck were turning yellow and green, easier to cover over with makeup. The cut on my arm was closing. To the outside, I seemed almost normal.But inside, I was still working things out. The warehouse. The tria

RAVEN'S POVThat realization had initially been pressing a ton on her. My dad had not only taught me how to bake because he was fond of the family business. The man was training me, preparing me, putting information into my mind that I could not understand until years after he died.All those recipes that he had taught me by heart. All temperature he had demanded that I get just right. Any sequence of time he had drilled into me until I could make it by the time I went to sleep.Everything was preparation to this point.I had settled into something close to a routine that I found nearly normal because of its strangeness over the last two weeks or so. The mornings with Priscilla and Aim, at the bakery, baking the recipes my grandmother had trained me on, and serving the customers, who were gradually getting used to my new reality. The whispers had died down. Most individuals only wanted good bread and who I was to marry was not important.Afternoons and evenings at the lab, translating