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Home / Mafia / Caring For The Mafia Son / Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

All Chapters of Caring For The Mafia Son: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

95 Chapters

The Gala

Rachel POVThe day of the gala finally arrived.And at exactly 5 p.m., a small army of stern-faced women swept into my room, arms full of boxes, fabric bags, and accessories. For the next hour, they worked with sharp efficiency, barely speaking except to adjust a curl or fasten a clasp.By the time they stepped back, I barely recognised myself.My hair—usually pulled into a simple ponytail or braided roughly—was swept into an elegant updo, soft curls framing my face. My makeup was dramatic but tasteful: smoky eyes, sharp contours, lips painted a bold red that matched the undertones of the deep red dress.And the dress itself...I stood before the full-length mirror as the final zipper slid into place, the fabric hugging every curve I'd spent years hiding under oversized sweaters."Magnifique," one of the stylists murmured, stepping back to admire her work.I stared at my reflection, barely breathing.This woman—this stranger in red silk—looke

The Montrel

Rachel POVThe estate rose from the night like a carved monument, all white marble and golden light. Fountains glittered coldly. Laughter floated in the air, sharp and practised, the kind that never quite reached the eyes. It looked like a dream. It felt like a trap. My stomach was a hard knot. Anxiety creeping. I couldn't breathe. The front door opened first. Mark stepped out, his sharp eyes scanning the entrance before opening Damien's door. Damien emerged. Shoulders straight, jaw set, the light catching the angles of his face. He didn't look at me. But he waited. I stepped out behind Damien, adjusting the silk of my dress. Leo scrambled after me, his small hand finding mine. “Wow..." he whispered, his eyes huge as he stared at the glowing fountains and carved stone statues. "Wow," I echoed softly, because I couldn't think of anything else to say. Damien drew in a slow breath, then finally turned toward me. He did

Meet The Gavies

Rachel POVA few minutes passed with my arm still looped through Damien's.He'd been intercepted by another guest—a heavyset man with calculating eyes who kept steering the conversation toward "opportunities" and "partnerships."Damien shut him down every time.Polite. Cold. Dismissive.I noticed the pattern: whenever the man tried to discuss something substantial, Damien would glance at me, then redirect to surface pleasantries.Because of me.Because he thought I couldn't handle it.The realisation soured on my tongue. After everything—after destroying Eleanor, after his whispered praise—he still saw me as fragile.Breakable.I took a sip of wine to hide my irritation, the lipstick leaving a soft red stain on the rim.My gaze drifted to Leo across the room, where Mark stood watch. Leo’s mouth was stuffed with snacks, eating like he hadn’t seen food in days. A few nearby guests looked on with either amusement or mild irritation.

Placeholder

Rachel POV The private study felt like a cage of dark wood and suffocating silence. Lorenzo sat behind the massive desk, his silver hair catching the faint light. Alessandro leaned against the bookshelf with lazy elegance, though his eyes were anything but relaxed. I took a seat near the open balcony doors, where the cold air seeped in and brushed my skin. Damien sat across from Lorenzo—cold, composed, unreadable. “I’ve spoken to some… contacts,” Lorenzo began, voice low and steady. “Federal level. The Raven doesn’t exist in their files. Not officially. Which means one of two things—either they’re ghosts… or someone inside is protecting them.” Damien didn’t respond. He just waited, silent and composed in a way that made my stomach twist. “But one thing is certain,” Lorenzo continued, leaning back. “They don’t want territory. They don’t want your drugs, your guns, your ports. They want you. Isolated. Weakened. Alone.” Alessandro swirled his

Unravel Control

Rachel POV The playroom was quiet. Leo lay asleep on the velvet sofa, his breathing deep and even. Matteo and Thalia were gone. Mark stood by the door, a silent shadow watching over Leo. “He just fell asleep, ma’am,” Mark said softly. I didn’t answer. I walked over and gently gathered Leo into my arms. He was heavier than he looked, a warm, limp weight against my chest. He murmured but didn’t wake, his head settling into the crook of my neck. I turned, Leo in my arms, and found Damien standing in the doorway, his expression dark. Without a word, I walked toward him, intending to move past. He didn’t step aside. “Give him to me,” Damien said, his voice low and rough. “I’ve got him.” “Rachel.” His hand shot out, not touching me, but blocking my path. “Give him to me.” Something in his tone—cold, final—made my arms tighten around Leo. "I'm taking him home," I said, my voice tight with hurt. "No," Damien spat, irri

Just The Appetizer

Rachel POV His fingers hooked into the lace, and my entire world narrowed to that single point of contact. "Damien—" My voice broke on his name. "Shh." His thumb traced the edge of the fabric, maddeningly slow, deliberately teasing. "I need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?" I nodded frantically, unable to form words. The car hit a bump, and his hand shifted—fingers sliding beneath the lace with devastating precision. My hips jerked involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping my throat. "Quiet," he reminded me, his voice a dark promise against my ear. His other hand came up to cover my mouth gently. "The driver can't hear us through the partition, but I need you to stay silent. Understand?" I nodded against his palm, my eyes wide and locked on his. "Good girl." The praise sent heat flooding through me. Then his fingers moved. One long finger slid through my pussy, slow and deliberate, and my entire body arched. “Christ,” he breathed, eyes darkening as

Brother Fury

Rachel POV Warmth. Silk sheets. The unfamiliar weight of expensive fabric against my bare skin. My eyes fluttered open slowly, consciousness returning in fragments—the dim morning light filtering through heavy curtains, the faint scent of Damien's cologne on the pillow beside me, the dull, persistent ache between my thighs. Oh God. Last night. The gala. The car. This bed. Damien. My face burned as memories flooded back—his hands, his mouth, the way he'd made me come apart before finally— I sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through my core, sharp and undeniable. My inner thighs protested. Everything was sore in a way that left no room for denial about what we'd done. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets cool where he'd been. Gone. My stomach twisted—not quite disappointment, not quite relief. Just... confusion. I pulled the silk sheet up to cover myself, sudden

Aftercare

Damien POVThe dining hall was too quiet.I stood in the doorway, my eyes immediately finding Rachel seated at the table, phone clutched in trembling hands—Leo beside her with a curious expression. Mark stood at attention nearby, his posture rigid with tension.Rachel looked up, and the fear in her eyes made something cold and sharp twist in my chest."What did he say?" I asked, keeping my voice low and controlled.Her throat worked as she swallowed. "My brother… he wants to meet you. My boyfriend." The word sounded foreign coming from her lips. "Saturday. 1 PM. Public place. Or he's calling the police."Before I could respond, Vance entered quietly from behind me, iPad in hand, already analysing the problem."Sir," he said calmly, "I've reviewed the situation. Marcus has made multiple explicit threats of police involvement. If he follows through, it becomes complicated. Very complicated."I didn't look away from Rachel. "What else?""He spent the

Daniel Grey

Damien POV I sat in my office, awaiting Rachel's arrival. An hour later, Rachel knocked softly before entering. She'd changed into dark jeans and a simple sweater—modest, practical. Her eyes swept the room, taking in Vance at the desk with his iPad, Mark by the door, and Sullivan leaning against the bookshelf. Her gaze lingered on Sullivan with clear uncertainty. She didn't recognise him. Good. She shouldn't. He worked in the shadows. "Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. She obeyed, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes darting nervously between the men in the room. Vance cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Mrs Montrel, we've compiled a profile on your brother as requested." He tapped his iPad, pulling up a file. "Marcus Owens. Age twenty-eight. Currently employed by—" He paused, his eyebrows raising slightly. I leaned forward. "Employed by who?" Vance turned the screen toward me. M

Play The Part

Damien POV"Position confirmed, sir. The subject just entered the café. Southwest corner table, back to the wall."Sullivan's voice crackled through the nearly invisible earpiece as I adjusted my cufflinks—a deliberate, calming gesture. My reflection stared back at me from the tinted car window: Daniel Grey, private security consultant. A man who belonged in Rachel's world.My gaze shifted to the woman beside me.Rachel sat rigid in the passenger seat, her hands twisted together in her lap. She'd barely spoken during the drive, just stared out the window while silently mouthing the cover story.Where we met: Charity gala. When: six months ago. His work: Private security. International clients. Details: Vague but confident.She looked perfect for the role—dressed in the outfit I'd chosen, her hair elegantly styled, the picture of a woman in a healthy relationship.But her eyes betrayed her.Wide. Terrified. Guilty."Rachel." My

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