All Chapters of Forbidden Claim: A Mafia King’s Obsession.: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Nadia's POVThe warehouse was so quiet that the only sound was the steady tap of Don Bellini’s silver-tipped cane against the concrete.I hung against the leather straps holding me to the metal chair, trembling so badly my teeth kept knocking together. My bare feet are numb, the cuts had stopped bleeding, leaving dark, dried blood against my skin.The tear in my black velvet dress exposed my shoulder and part of my chest to the cold air moving through the rafters, but I barely notice it anymore, fear had swallowed everything else.“Ten minutes remaining, my dear,” Bellini stopped pacing and checked the silver pocket watch in his hand, he looked at me with a faint smile. “It seems your dark prince is running late.”He snapped the watch shut. “Or perhaps he finally remembered that a street girl isn’t worth destroying his entire syndicate over.”“I told you,” I said, my voice comes out weak. “He won’t come, he isn’t stupid.”Bellini gave a quiet laugh. “No, he isn’t stupid. He’s arrogant

Nadia’s POV The sterile scent of antiseptic, rubbing alcohol, and surgical steel hung heavily in the air. It was cold and stifling, clashing with the metallic taste of blood that still seemed to linger at the back of my throat, a reminder of what had happened at the warehouse. I sat on a hard , velvet upholstered chair against the wall of the estate’s private medical wing, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I had washed them three times. I had scrubbed my palms beneath scalding water until my skin was raw and red, but whenever I looked down, I could still see the dark, rust colored stain of Lorenzo’s blood caught in the creases around my fingernails. Across the room, beneath the harsh glare of the overhead lights, Lorenzo lay motionless. A man who had dragged an empire through blood and ash, who had smashed through a concrete wall like an unstoppable force, now lay surrounded by the steady beeping of monitors and the soft hiss of an oxygen tube beneath his nose. A thick

Nadia’s POVFifteen minutes later, the heavy double doors of the medical suite opened.The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. I sat frozen in my chair, my fingers gripping the armrests so tightly that my knuckles had gone white.Then Peter walked in. He looked terrible, but somehow he still carried himself like his injuries were something to be proud of. He leaned heavily on a sleek wooden crutch, his left leg secured in a thick medical brace. His face was pale and drawn. His gray suit from the previous night had been replaced by a sharp black blazer, but the calculating look in his blue eyes hadn’t changed.His gaze moved from Lorenzo to me. For the briefest moment, I saw it. Hatred. Pure, venomous hatred.It was a silent reminder of the glass I had driven into his leg. Then as quickly as it came, it disappeared and he replaced it with an expression of concern.“Don Lorenzo,” Peter rasped, stopping at the foot of the bed and lowering his head respectfully. “Thank God you’re

Nadia’s POV Night had settled heavily over the estate. Rain lashed against the tall windows of Lorenzo’s master suite, filling the silence between flashes of lightning. Shadows shifted across the dark wooden floor, the stone fireplace, and the massive bed covered in dark silk sheets. It’s been two weeks since Lorenzo’s brutal injury. And he’s been recovering very fast. I sat on the edge of the mattress in a simple ivory nightgown, my freshly bandaged feet resting on the thick rug beneath me. My heart wouldn’t slow down. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t hatred either. Something had changed since we’d returned from the warehouse, and I could feel it sitting between us like a weight neither of us knew how to name. The bathroom door opened and Lorenzo stepped into the bedroom. He wore dark lounge trousers, and a clean white bandage covered his injured shoulder. The rest of his body bore the marks of old wounds — thin scars left behind by years of violence and survival. He stoppe

Nadia’s POV By two o’clock that afternoon, the rain had stopped.A cold mist hung over the estate grounds, and everything outside was still wet from the downpour.I stood on the marble balcony overlooking the front courtyard in a fitted black wool coat over a simple emerald silk dress. My dark hair was pinned into a neat chignon, leaving my neck exposed and the fading mark near my collarbone visible.Viktor stood beside me in his tactical coat. His eyes never stopped moving as hewatched the trees, the driveway, every corner of the grounds.Then three silver Mercedes sedans came speeding around the curved driveway. Water sprayed from beneath their tires as they pulled up beneath the entrance.The guards moved immediately. Within seconds, men had surrounded the vehicles and taken their positions.The rear door of the middle car opened. A footman stepped out first with a large black umbrella, then she stepped out. Rebecca Stanford. I had expected a beautiful woman, I hadn’t expected he