All Chapters of The Mafia King's Obsession : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Lana I feel like some curvy, Italian version of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, trapped in the middle of a fantasy I never asked for. Three saleswomen hover around me like flies on trash. Too close. Too eager. Smiling so hard it feels fake. Instead of sneers, they offer champagne. Instead of judgment, there are chocolate-covered strawberries on a silver tray. And the strangest part is that I didn't even have to sleep with Dominic Vance to earn any of it.Which I absolutely do not plan to do. Ever. That line is firm. Non-negotiable.Still, his face kept pushing its way into my thoughts last night. And again this morning. I tried to shove it out, but it didn't stick. That part isn't on me. It was his stupid shirt. I slept in it. The fabric clung to me, soaked with his spicy, heavy scent. It wrapped around my senses. I woke up painfully turned on. My clit throbbed. My body tight and restless. My head filled with images I didn't invite. Him. Naked. Clear. Detailed. Burned in like they b

DominicWhite heat floods my chest the moment my eyes lock onto the bastard strapped to the chair. The one who put his hands where they never should have been. The one who thought he could take something from me and walk away.Rage moves through me fast and hard, like fire racing through dry veins. My hands tremble. Not fear. Not doubt. Pure fury, sharp enough to cut. I force myself to breathe. Slow. Controlled. One breath, then another.Control is everything. It’s how I’ve survived. It’s how I built what I run. Business. Territory. People. Order is the only thing that keeps the chaos in check.A few days with Lana, and that control is already cracking.Enzo’s message about the robbery ripped me out of a meeting I’d waited weeks for. City commissioner. Closed doors. Quiet power. That meeting mattered. His favor keeps my shipping lanes clean. The legal shipments and the ones no one asks questions about.None of it means a damn thing right now.Rocco and Marcus stand off to the side, ha

Lana My face turns, slow and heavy, and my cheek presses against something solid. Not a pillow. Pain pulses through the bruise along my jaw, sharp enough to drag me fully awake. My eyes fly open. A gold cross fills my vision, warm against my skin, tangled in dark hair and resting on tanned flesh. There is a strip of white bandage just below it. The sight feels wrong, out of place, like a detail from someone else’s life.My body stiffens. Strong arms are locked around my torso, firm and unyielding, like steel bands. A thick, muscled leg is tangled with mine, heavy and solid. My heart jumps hard into my throat. I almost make a sound before clamping my mouth shut. Thoughts move slowly, one by one, sliding into focus.Dominic Vance. In my bed.Worse, my arm is wrapped around his bare waist, fingers curled into warm skin as if they belong there. Panic crashes into something softer. Comfort. Safety. I don’t know which feeling scares me more. Part of me wants to scream and scramble away.

DominicLana sits by the window, still and focused. Midday light pours in and wraps around her dark hair, giving it a soft glow. Calla lilies are scattered through the penthouse. Their clean smell blends with her natural scent, warm and distracting. She holds her lower lip between her teeth as she turns a page in her economics book. It’s a small thing. It shouldn’t matter. But it does.Jealousy hits fast and deep. Jealous of the paper because her fingers rest there. Jealous of her teeth because I want my mouth where they are. The thought lands heavy in my chest.Not even a full week has passed since Lana came crashing back into my life. Still, everything feels off. Like the ground shifted without warning. Dark thoughts don’t feel as heavy. Bright moments feel too sharp. Too exposed. Tomorrow is the Gala of Hearts. That night will decide if this arrangement can survive. Right now, it’s been nothing but tension and frustration. A faint smile pulls at my mouth as her image fills the mo

LanaA sharp, restless storm of nerves rolls through me as I stare at my reflection. It feels like my insides are alive, fluttering and crashing at the same time. Elara pulls the zipper up the back of the deep emerald dress, slow and careful, and I barely recognize the woman standing there.Dark curls spill over my shoulders, soft against the smooth fabric. The dress fits close, hugging every curve. The makeup is bold but clean. Dark liner frames my eyes. Smoky shadow deepens the blue. Against my light caramel skin, it all works. Too well. Elara really is good at everything she touches. Food. Order. Calm. And now this. She even erased the last signs of the robbery. The bruises were still there this morning. Now they’re gone.If someone saw me like this, they’d never guess what I’ve been through.I look like I stepped out of Éclat Magazine. Like I belong in someone else’s life.Elara’s pale gray eyes meet mine through the mirror. She pauses, then smiles. “You look beautiful.”“Because