TRAPPED WITH THE MAFIA BOSS
SOMAtrapped by the mafiastuck with the handsome mafia bossthe mafia boss won't divorce mei'm trapped
“I don’t play games with that.”
His chest heaved, the words half-true, half-shield, and Sheila nodded, scribbling fast, letting it stand. The press surged—questions overlapping—but he waved them off, striding past, Luca at his heel.
***** **** **** *** *** **** **** ****
Inside a private lounge in the hospital—leather chairs, muted lights—he slumped against the wall, rubbing his face.
Doubt gnawed him, sharp and cold. Conspiracy whispers were growing—he’d heard them outside, saw them brewing on T*****r: “President’s behind it—took out his rival.”
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