All Chapters of Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession.: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Nadia’s POV The ballroom is laced with a suffocating air and the scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. To everyone else, Lorenzo Romano is the epitome of a powerful , ruthless leader of the Romano empire — untouchable, magnificent and totally in control. But, to me, he is a living nightmare. The feeling of his fingers still burns against my skin. Two hours into the gala, I play my part. I smile until my cheeks ache. My fingers wrap tightly around the champagne glass and I can feel them getting numb. “Stay here,” Lorenzo’s voice slices through my thoughts, low and dripping with authority. He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, his dark , predatory eyes roams around, scanning the crowd while twirling the liquid in his glass. “I have business to attend to with with a client. Do not move from this spot, Nadia. If I come back and find out that you moved an inch, the consequences will make your little phobia the least of your worries.” Without waiting for a reply, he shoves his

Nadia’s POV The air inside the the luxury sedan is thick, suffocating, and reeking of premium leather, gunpowder and the sharp scent of Lorenzo’s cologne. My Pulse is all over the place, the hammering against my ribs getting louder as Lorenzo’s weight suffocates me further. The darkness of the backseat offers no comfort, only a cage where his dark eyes gleamed with a terrifying mixture of unadulterated lust and and fury. The tension in the car was beginning to reach a breaking point when the driver’s side door suddenly clicks open. Lorenzo doesn’t get off me immediately, his muscles locks beneath his tailored black shirt as his dark eyes filled with lust and fury snaps toward the front of the sedan. He took his time, keeping me pinned for an agonizing second longer just to show me that he could before his shadow finally shifted. Viktor, his trusted underboss, stops dead in his tracks. He stood with one foot inside the car, his massive frame silhouetted against the dim glo

Nadia’s POV The water of the shower is hot and feels like needles against my bruised skin. I scrub my body with aggression, using the expensive, floral scented body wash until my skin turns a raw, angry red. I try to wash away the the sensation of Lorenzo’s rough fingers on my body. I want to wash away the lingering ache on my neck, the bergamot and tobacco smell of him, and the crushing weight of my helplessness. But no matter how hard I scrub, the memory remains buried into my skin. I step out and walk to the bathroom mirror, but it is completely fogged. I wipe a patch clean with my palm, staring at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot, one side of my cheek bear red marks from Lorenzo’s slap earlier, my lips slightly swollen and my neck bears a deep red and painful mark from his bite earlier. Look presentable. His words echo in my mind, a sad bitter laugh escapes my lips as I walk into the massive walk-in closet. I haven’t seen Clara. I guess it’s his orders for her not

Nadia’s POV The darkness is heavy, swallowing every corner of the dining room. My breathing accelerates, fear griping me whole. For a few seconds, nobody moves. The only sound is the frantic thumping of my own heart against my chest. The faint shouting outside suddenly grows louder, men speaking deep Italian, followed by the terrifying rhythm of gunfire echoing through the courtyard. “Stay right where you are,” Francesca’s voice cut through the silence. The venomous tone from before is gone, replaced by a sharp, cold discipline. There’s no panic in her voice, just the normal tone of a woman who has survived many nights like this one. I hear the faint rustle of her dress, the faint clinking of her heels against the marble as she moves away from the table. A second later, a small beam of light pierces the darkness. She has pulled out her phone, bringing back light into the room. “The main power grid has been cut off,” Francesca says, her sharp eyes darting toward the heav

Nadia’s POV Copper and burnt gunpowder are the only scent that hangs thick in the kitchen. Before I can even process the pool of blood on the floor, two guards rush in, flanking a man carrying a heavy medical kit. “Don Lorenzo, we need to move you upstairs this minute,” the medic says, his voice tense but professional as he takes in the wet, dark stain spreading across Lorenzo’s shirt. Lorenzo doesn’t move. He keeps his gaze locked onto mine for a moment longer, his grip tightening on his side until his knuckles turns white. “The estate is secure, Viktor?” “Yes Don. The perimeter is locked down. No one comes in or leaves tonight,” Viktor replies, his eyes resting firmly on the hilt of his weapon. “Good.” Lorenzo says, shifting his gaze to his mother. “Go to your quarters, mother. We will finish our conversation tomorrow.” Francesca looks at him, worry rippling visibly across her features as she scanned the blood on his hand. She presses her lips into a line, straightenin