Máfia's Hated Bride의 모든 챕터: 챕터 81 - 챕터 90

ANGELINE HARRINGTON Even Nikolai, always extremely possessive, I couldn't think of anything else in that moment, only feel. The wood of the table creaked. The world reduced itself to his savage rhythm, to the sweat that dripped from his chest onto my back, to the obscene and praising words he whispered between one moan and another. When the climax hit us, it was like a silent and violent explosion. My body convulsed against the table, and the roar that came out of him echoed through the walls of the office. He collapsed over my back, breathless, his lips pressed against my shoulder. After a while — seconds, minutes, I couldn't say — he lifted me in his arms, as if I weighed nothing. He carried me through the silent stairs to the bedroom, our sanctuary and our private battlefield. In the bed, under the Egyptian cotton sheets, the savagery gave way to a slower, more torturous exploration. He kissed me until I was out of breath, his hands mapping every curve as if it were the first tim

The evening light tinted Moscow's high-fashion studios amber, where my little lioness, my Angel, was certainly choosing her silk "armor" for the party. While she worried about her dress, I worried about the trajectory of a "projectile." In the basement of the mansion, the meeting room was cold, lit only by the bluish glow of the screens. Dmitri was at my side, his presence solid and silent as a rock. — Richard is busy being a Harrington pretending to be a great man to society — I commented, my eyes fixed on the schematic of a warehouse on the banks of the Moskva River. — It's time to remind him of what he really is. Dmitri nodded. — The guard is heavy, but predictable. The shipment arrived three hours ago. It's the largest of the quarter. Weapons, unregistered pharmaceuticals… and the cash payment from the previous operation. A slow, humorless smile spread across my lips. Richard was getting bold. Or desperate. Probably both. — He thinks the alliance with the Chernovs gives him c

ANGELINE HARRINGTON When Victoria entered the mansion's ballroom, it was as if she were the owner of the night, the owner of the place, the owner of Nikolai. Her scarlet red dress, the enormous rubies on her neck and wrists, was a shout. At her side, Igor, her fiancé, looked like nothing more than an expensive, personality-less jewel hanging from her arm — exactly the type of man Nikolai despised. She threw me a look, from head to toe, and a victorious and cruel smile lit up her face. I could read her thoughts: "Dressed like a nun. Terrible taste as always." My mint-green silk dress was quiet. It didn't shout, it whispered. It embraced my body like a second skin, and the only jewel was the delicate diamond necklace on my neck — a gift from Nikolai. It was extremely expensive, obviously, but its beauty lay in subtraction, not addition. Victoria didn't understand that kind of power. I picked up a glass of sparkling water from a tray and turned to converse with the French ambassador an

NIKOLAI VOLKOV Angeline knew about the financial blow I had dealt her father. She knew about the move of spreading the weapons and drugs among the rival groups, planting blind d*****d among them. What she didn't know — what no one knew except me and Dmitri — was the true origin of that arsenal. Richard Harrington had allied himself with Alexei Chernov. But it was all a great facade to hide his true intention: to rob his own ally. The old rat was smarter than I imagined. Alexei had no idea that he was financing and protecting the very man who stabbed him in the back. All those weapons, all those drugs, all that money that I had confiscated… belonged, in truth, to Alexei himself. Richard was merely the intermediary, the ghost who diverted the fortune into his own pockets while the true owner slept peacefully, confident in his alliance. It was a masterstroke. Risky, suicidal if discovered, but brilliant. And the worst part: he had already done it with three other minor allies. That wa

NIKOLAI VOLKOV Hours later — or perhaps only minutes, I don't know — Angeline was already sitting up in bed, with enough color in her face to convince me not to kill anyone. The doctor confirmed she was fine, that the malaise was common in early pregnancy, but that she needed rest. She, however, insisted. — I need to go downstairs — she said, her fingers intertwined with mine. — The performance, Nikolai. They can't suspect anything. — To hell with the performance — I growled. — You're staying here. — No — she said, and there was that stubborn gleam in her eyes, the lioness I loved so much. — The doctor said I'm fine. And you know I'm right. She was. Damn it, she always was. After much insisting, she convinced me and we went downstairs together. The party continued, but the whispers had already begun. Curious looks followed us. Victoria and Elizabeth were near the fireplace, their eyes sharp as razors. Angeline prepared to assume her position as the perfect hostess, the mask of