Todos os capítulos de Máfia's Hated Bride: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

NIKOLAI VOLKOV I spent two days away from home, and when I returned to the mansion, it was pitch black. And in the air, hovering over the silent routine of the house, was the weight of the next event: the Grand International Philanthropy Ball. It was not an underworld event. It was a brilliant stage, washed in clean "or almost clean" money, frequented by magnates, politicians, celebrities, and, of course, figures like me, skillfully infiltrated among the "normals." It would be Angeline's official presentation. Rumors about the beauty of Volkov's wife were already circulating, but that night, she would cease to be a rumor and become an undeniable, impressive fact. A trump card to be displayed. I would need to prepare myself not only with the tuxedo but with an extra layer of control. My jealousy, my possessiveness, would have to be contained behind a courteous smile and an impeccable posture. The beast would have to wear a bow tie. Upon entering, I was greeted by Mila in the lobby.

ANGELINE HARRINGTON A deadly chill ran down my spine when I saw Victoria in the ballroom, her smile sharp as a dagger. My hands trembled slightly on Nikolai's arm. He felt it. He leaned toward my ear, and his voice came low, hoarse, but with a firmness that, to my astonishment, sounded almost protective. "Don't worry. You have my protection; you are with me. And now your family can do nothing against you. Much less that bitch of your sister." I recognized how vengeful and monstrous he could be. I knew his "protection" came from a place of possession, not kindness. But, in that moment, against that specter of my past, I accepted his support. It was the only shield I had. I smiled again for the flashes and guests, a smile that now had a taste of defiance. "Don't worry, Nikolai. Nothing this family says from now on will affect me. They have already humiliated me enough for a lifetime." I felt his gaze on me, a mixture of surprise and something that could be… approval. He merely gave

ANGELINE HARRINGTON The city lights were left behind, replaced by the deep darkness of the mountain road. "Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice louder than I intended in the oppressive silence of the car. He looked at me for a second, his face illuminated only by the green reflections of the dashboard. "To a place where no one can find us. A retreat. A discreet and luxurious resort, totally private. 'Ours alone,'" he said, his voice deep. "Ours alone." His words hammered in my mind. And now everything became clear—Nikolai wanted to isolate us because he wanted me only for himself. "It's called Brezza Silenziosa. A perfect place for a couple…" "A perfect place for a couple… in love?" I thought with irony. Because yes, there was the cruel irony of the whole situation. For the first time, I could see clearly: Nikolai was not in love. A man like him doesn't fall in love; at most he feels obsession, and unfortunately for my complete despair, Nikolai was apparently obsessed wi

NIKOLAI VOLKOV From the moment I saw Angeline in that green dress, stunning at the party, my body went into combustion. It was no longer just attraction. It was a fury of desire that threw me off axis. I knew I needed to have much more of her than the mere company of an ornamental wife. I wanted to possess her as my woman, as the player of my color. I wanted to fuck that body with an intensity that would leave her marked, not by violence, but by lust. I wanted to show that pale skin what pure, wild pleasure was, the kind that only a man like me, with my hunger and my experience, could give. But how, if the only look she directed at me was one of terror? Apart from the violence of our marriage, everything she knew about me came from dark stories and from the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion where she had been a prisoner. At the party, however, something changed. She was divine, yes. But she was also different. Upon seeing her family, something lit up in her. The way she faced her

NIKOLAI VOLKOV Then I went lower. My lips found the soft pink areola of one delicate nipple, already swollen and sensitive. I sucked, first gently, then with growing intensity. The moans that left her changed in tone. From the initial apprehension, they turned into rough, drawn-out sounds of pleasure, muffled by the blindfold. “Relax, little one,” I murmured against her ear, my mouth still busy with her breast. “Just relax. Let me feel you. Let me touch you. Let me taste you.” Her legs, which had been tense and closed at first, began to give way. The muscles relaxed a little. I wanted her to come first. I wanted that complete surrender, the fearless yielding, before any penetration. I wanted to be inside her only when she was out of her mind with pleasure, begging for me. So I went lower still. The sweet scent of her sex hit me, making me even harder. Even frightened, she was already wet—her body betraying the hesitation of her mind. “So delicious, princess,” I murmured, my mouth