Lahat ng Kabanata ng MINE: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 5

CHAPTER ONE ROSARIE'S POV The last time Don Carmine Russo spoke my name, I peed on myself. Just a little. A sharp, humiliating sting against my thighs that I had spent the rest of the day praying no one had noticed and probably would use it against me later. I was sixteen then. Fresh out of my mother’s cramped apartment, wearing a uniform three sizes too big, and newly assigned as an auxiliary maid in the dark, suffocating expanse of the Russo Mansion. Twenty four years of breathing the same air as the mob had taught me four golden rules. Never stare at a Capo. Never touch a weapon. Never ask where the bloodstains came from. And when the Don speaks, you drop to your knees and look down. Sixteen-year-old me had made the mistake of looking up. Don Carmine had paused in the grand foyer during a routine staff line-up, his cold, slate-grey eyes locking onto mine. He had said one sentence “Keep your chin down, Rosarie.” and my bladder had instantly betrayed me. I spent

CHAPTER THREEKYLIANO'S POV I have made grown men whimper with nothing but a look. Soldiers who have put bullets through skulls without blinking. Capos who have carved their initials into bone and still slept like babies afterward. One stare from me and their spines fold. Their mouths go dry. Their hands start shaking like they already smell the basement waiting for them.And this brunette? This fucking brunette who already walked into my room, stole from me, and then had the audacity to sit in the back of my car sounding bored while informing me she was about to come on another man’s dick did not look fazed by my look.“I could have come if you didn’t play Superman.”That was what she said. Like I had interrupted her favorite show. Like the fact that she was promised to my cousin was a mild scheduling conflict instead of a death sentence wrapped in white lace and family tradition.My hand was around her throat before the last word finished echoing in the closed space of the ca

CHAPTER FIVE KYLIANO Angelo was standing two feet from the fucking door. My cock was still buried to the hilt inside the virgin cunt that belonged—on paper, by blood oath, by Don Carmine’s decree—to my cousin. Her third orgasm had just ripped through her, that broken little whimper still vibrating against the leather, and every muscle in my body locked solid. If anyone found out. If the wrong mouth opened… If the driver talked… If Angelo so much as glanced through the tint at the wrong angle... I grimaced, the consequences stacking like bodies in the basement. A made man who put his hands on another made man’s promised bride didn’t get a warning. He got a river and a six feet home. Family or not, cousin or not. Future Don or not. I groaned low in my throat, the sound half frustration, half pure animal reluctance, and grabbed a handful of her ass hard enough to leave fingerprints. My fingers dug into soft flesh as I eased out of her—slow, deliberate, watching the thick slide of