All Chapters of His Sinful Empire : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

I called Dimitri just after five, tucking my phone between my shoulder and ear while I cleaned my brushes, the familiar smell of turpentine sharp in the cool air. He picked up on the second ring. “Hey. You okay?” “Fine. I’m still at the studio. I’m going to be a bit late tonight.” A pause. “How late?” “I don’t know. An hour, maybe. I haven’t been here properly since Sicily, and there’s a lot to catch up on.” He was quiet for a moment. I could hear him thinking. “Dimitri—” “I don’t like you being there without security,” he said. I put my brush down. “We’ve talked about this.” “I know we’ve talked about it. I’m still saying it.” His voice wasn’t harsh. “You had security in Milan. You had it in Sicily. Why is Rome suddenly different?” “Because Rome is safe, you know,” I said simply. “I built something here. I know these streets now, and I’ve never felt safer anywhere than I do here.” “Giulia—” “I mean it. I’m not being naive. I just refuse to live in this city lik

The table got a little quieter. Nico turned his wine glass slowly. “I heard from Bruno. He’s uhmm, going through it, you know. .” A pause. “He doesn’t say much. You know how he is. Nina is the only one who can bring Enzo back from whatever he's in right now.” I nodded. I could imagine it without needing details. Enzo carrying something enormous and doing it completely alone because that was the only way he knew how. “Has anyone tried talking to him?” I asked. “I tried once.” Nico’s jaw shifted slightly. “He listened. Said two words. Then hung up” He shook his head. “There’s nothing you can say to someone in that situation. You just have to be there.” “Are you there?” I asked quietly. “Hmmp! I wish he’ll let me be.” The table was quiet for a moment. Then Dimitri, gently changed the subject. “There’s a gala next week. Political fundraiser. The kind of th

NICO’S POVI needed air.Forty minutes inside was my limit.I found the balcony, leaned against the railing, lit a cigarette, few minutes later, the door opened behind me.I heard her voice before I saw her. Fast Russian voice, she sounded low and frustrated, clearly not happy about whoever was on the other end. She wrapped it up quickly, like she wanted someone off the phone before she'd say something she couldn’t take back.I turned and just stood there for a second.Blonde long hair that fell past her shoulders, wearing red lipstick. The dress was black, fitted, and cut in a way that pushed her chest up and made you forget what you were thinking about two seconds ago.She was looking at her phone like it had personally offended her.Then she looked up and saw me.Neither of us said anything.She was even better straight on. High cheekbones.“Rough call?” I said.She looked at me the way women looked at men they hadn’t decided to talk to yet. “Is it that obvious?”Her voice hit diff

“Excuse me?” That was the only word I could think of at that moment.Victoria looked at me with that practiced wounded expression, the champagne was still dripping from her dress.Dimitri appeared beside me almost immediately, his hand at my back as his eyes moved quickly between us. “What’s happening?”“Apparently,” Victoria said, her voice lifting just enough to carry, “your girlfriend is jealous because I used to date you. So she spilled her drink all over me.”I let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “How childish… That’s not what happened.”“She’s being delusional,” I said clearly.Mrs. Kostas appeared from nowhere the way she always seemed to, materializing exactly when she could do the most damage.“How dare you make a scene here?” she said, looking directly at me.And that was all Victoria needed.Her expression shifted immediately, the wounded look replaced with something more theatrical and more convincing for the audience that had gathered.“I was just telling her how l

Two weeks later… Victoria was already at the table when I arrived. She looked up when she saw me, something crossed her face immediately. Surprise maybe, like she hadn’t fully believed I’d actually show up. “I didn’t think you’d actually agree to meet me,” she said. “Let’s get to it,” I said. I sat down. I just looked at her directly, she shifted slightly in her seat. “My father—” “I know what your father wants,” I said. “He was very clear.” “Then you know why I’m here.” “I know why he sent you,” I said. “That’s not the same thing.” She looked at me carefully, trying to read me like she was trying to find the edge of what I knew and where my patience started running thin. “Dimitri,” she started. “Alessandro Benedetti,” I said. Everything stopped. She went completely still. The kind of still that happened when someone heard something they’d spent years making sure no one would ever say out loud. “What did you just say,” she said. Barely a whisper. “Your