บททั้งหมดของ Mafia Marriage of Convenience: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

"Sign the fucking papers, Eduardo."Santiago Rivera didn't sit. He stood over the desk in the Rivera Ocean Villa, his shadow swallowing the frail man in the antique armchair. Eduardo Cruz looked like a corpse someone had dressed in a silk robe and propped up with a silver-topped cane. He was wasting away, but his eyes—yellowed and sharp—still held the glint of a man who sold his soul decades ago.Lanka stood by the glass doors, watching the gray Atlantic churn. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide the tremor. Every time Eduardo looked at him, Lanka felt the phantom weight of a leash tightening around his neck."You're looking pale, Grandfather," Lanka said. He didn't move to touch the man. No hugs. No affection. Just a cold assessment of the decay.Eduardo’s hand, mapped with purple bruises from IV leaks, gripped the cane. He didn't look at Lanka; he looked at Santiago. "I didn't realize the Rivera family was so desperate for my docks that they’d squat in a rental. My real estate

"Get up," I muttered, turning away to shove the brushes into a jar of solvent.My lower back spasmed. I’d been hunched over the canvas for six hours, and my body felt like a rusted engine. I reached for a cluster of fine-tip brushes, but my grip was shot. They clattered to the floor, rolling toward Santiago’s handmade leather boots.We both lunged for them at once. My skull knocked against his jaw with a dull thud."Watch it," I hissed, reaching for a stray brush. His fingers brushed the back of my hand. The contact was electric—a jagged spark that skipped straight to my gut. I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned, grabbing a different brush instead.We stood up together. The room was drowning in shadows now, the Manhattan skyline a jagged black silhouette against a bruised purple sky. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I felt his stare. It was heavy. Predatory. It was the same heat that had nearly incinerated us at the Ocean Villa.I opened my palm, offering him the brushes I’d

"You are not staying in my bed."Santiago’s quarters were exactly what I expected: a fortress of cold, lethal elegance. Charcoal walls, a headboard upholstered in scarred black leather, and a duvet the color of dried blood. Deep mahogany floors stretched toward floor-to-ceiling glass that turned the Manhattan skyline into a gallery of jagged lights. It was my first time crossing the threshold. I felt like a trespasser in a lion’s den.I clutched my silk robe and leather shave kit to my chest. They were pathetic shields against the man stripping off his blazer a few feet away."I don't like this any more than you do, but the house is full," Santiago said, tossing his jacket onto a chair."When does Mateo get his own place?"Santiago let out a low, dark chuckle. "Now you’re the one who wants him gone?" He was disgustingly casual. My pulse was a frantic hammer in my throat. He caught my eye and smirked. "I’m not a monster, Lanka. I won't slit your throat while you’re dreaming."That wasn

"You done?"Mateo didn't even look up from the table, his blade flashing as he expertly carved a blood orange into precise, jagged crescents. He’d been wearing that same predatory smirk since the sun came up, acting like I had 'Property of Cruz' tattooed on my forehead. We were alone in the Rivera Manhattan Residence dining hall. Lanka was still upstairs, likely scrubbing the scent of me off his skin. I’d almost stayed in that bed, ignoring the hits I had scheduled, just to see if his skin felt as electric in the daylight as it did at three in the morning."What's so funny, kid?" I snapped."I thought the Cruz boy was a 'strategic asset.' A pawn."I forced my hand to stay steady around my espresso. Yesterday, in the armory, I’d told Mateo that Lanka was a means to an end. A way to gut Eduardo’s empire from the inside out. I could have slept in the safe room, but a territorial twitch in my gut wouldn't let me leave him. I didn't want my brother and my 'husband' crossing paths in the da

"You’re shaking," Santiago said, his voice dropping an octave as he crowded into my space. "I’m calling the family doctor. I want you screened for a lung infection before we leave this dock.""I’m fine." His focus was a physical weight, making my skin prickle under the dry silk of Adriana’s dress. "I was submerged for ten seconds, Santiago. If you want to play nurse, go fret over the kid who actually inhaled the bay.""He has parents to do that. They're already hovering.""And I don't." The words slipped out before I could catch them, bitter and sharp. "So quit the act."We were standing at the edge of the aft deck on the Citterio Palace yacht. The rest of the Rivera's had turned the trauma into an impromptu wake, bottles of top-shelf bourbon appearing from the galley. Rafael, Sofia, and the rest of the brothers were loud at the other end, the tension of the race and the near-drowning bleeding out into expensive laughter.I watched Sofia and Adriana wrestling with a champagne bottle,