All Chapters of Married to the untouchable mafia lord : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Chris POV The hoodie of my black sweatshirt sat low on my head, brushing my cheekbone when I shifted. Across my chest, the word Ghost was printed in clean white letters. Sharp and simple. Exactly how I liked my work. I lay flat on the rooftop, the concrete cold beneath my chest. My rifle rested steady against my shoulder, familiar as a handshake I’d made a hundred times before. Below me, the hospital parking lot glowed under harsh security lights. Ambulances idled. Nurses in tired uniforms hurried to their cars, heads down, thinking about home. On the third floor, through a wide window, I saw them. Three doctors. They stood close together in a small break room. One poured coffee into a paper cup. Another leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone. The third talked with his hands, laughing at something I’d never heard. They looked safe. Protected. Like the world outside that window didn’t apply to them. I slowed my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. My finger reste

Chris POV I was standing still on the balcony. So was one of the shadows I had seen before. The air felt really heavy like something was hanging over us. The curtains behind Matt Davis were swaying gently in the breeze making sounds against the glass doors. The moon was shining down on us. It made his face look silver. Matt Davis was just standing there with his hands behind his back like he was looking out at his kingdom or something. He did not seem scared all. His shoulders were. He was not breathing fast. He just seemed calm like he was in control. I was hiding in the dark watching him. My heart was beating steadily like it always did when I was working. I had been watching this house for days learning the guards patterns, where the cameras were and where I could hide. I had it all planned out. Then Matt Davis started walking along the balcony really slow and thoughtful. His shoes were making sounds on the marble floor. From where I was I could see the lights from the e

Chris POV I didn't sleep. I don't think I was capable of it. My body had shut down into something that wasn't sleep and wasn't consciousness — just a grey, suspended nothing that sat behind my eyes for hours while the ceiling above me stayed perfectly still and the city outside kept living like nothing had happened. Like nothing had happened. I almost laughed at that. Almost. The chains were still on. I'd checked them at some point in the dark — not with any real intention, just reflex, the way your hand moves to a wound to confirm it's still there. They were solid. Expensive. The kind of restraints that weren't purchased from any ordinary supplier. Everything in this room was like that. Heavy and deliberate and built to last. Including him. I didn't let myself think about that yet. I filed it behind the glass where I put things I couldn't afford to feel and I left it there and I stared at the ceiling instead. Dawn came slowly. Grey light first, then pale gold bleeding

Chris POV The east wing suite was beautiful. I noted this the way I noted everything — clinically, without attachment. High ceilings. Stone floors softened by rugs that probably cost more than anything I had ever owned. A bed that took up a quarter of the room. Windows overlooking a garden that was lit at night by low ground lights, the kind of lighting that was designed to look effortless and cost a great deal to maintain. Beautiful and locked. I had walked the perimeter twice when they brought me in. Damon — the one with the permanent hostility and the professionally empty face — had stood in the doorway and watched me do it without comment. I think he expected me to be embarrassed about it. I wasn't. Knowing your enclosure is basic survival. I would have done it in a palace or a hole in the ground with equal thoroughness. Two exits. Both sealed with electronic locks that needed a code and a secondary key card. The windows were reinforced — I'd pressed against the glass to

Chris POVThey came for me mid-morning.Not Matt — two men I hadn't seen before, broad and quiet with the particular economy of movement that told me they were trained rather than just large. They opened the door and stood in the frame and the one on the left said, "Mr. Davis has arranged your transfer," in the tone of someone relaying information rather than making conversation.I looked at them.Then I looked around the room — Matt's bedroom, where I had spent the last however many hours existing in the space between broken and functional — and I stood up slowly and said nothing and walked toward the door.They fell in on either side of me. Not grabbing, not touching. Just present, the way walls are present. Directing without contact.We moved through corridors I hadn't seen yet.The house was larger than I had calculated from the outside, which meant either my external assessment had been off or the interior was architecturally deceptive — rooms folded into rooms, wings extending f