img Pampered By The Ruthless Mafia Boss  /  Chapter 3 | 18.75%
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Chapter 3

Word Count: 1123    |    Released on: Today at 15:10

ena

the evening, a sharp knock

iere says through the thick wood. "

ke a deep breath to steady the frantic beat in my chest, but it d

oom and descend th

foyer, in the process of shrugging

tretches across his back as he moves, and I catch myself staring at the way the material pulls taut before I force my gaze away. His dark hai

e Consigliere and turns

rtbeat, I feel utterly naked under that gaze-as if he has already catalogued every secret I've ever kept

he texture of sand scraping against metal, a sound that seems to abrade the quiet of t

say. "My nam

oves-large, lethal hands that I know have ended lives, yet they handle the crystal with an

" he demands, no

cal Medicine," I say. "I mi

. The full weight of his attention lands on me like a physica

applying to be a governe

r. My lashes do not so much as flutter, though a fi

the mone

s to increase, as if before a storm. Those ice-blue eyes hold mine for a beat too long

ed seven days," Lucian says. "How lon

But he didn't throw a vase

rim of his crystal glass. He remain

," the Consigliere says quietly

t me. Something flickers in his expression-s

e leaves no room for negotiation. "Nico's routine is absolute. He di

rstand,

a step closer

ice dropping into a dark, threaten

"I wi

ive cologne and something sharper, like burnt gunpowder mixed with clean male skin, trails behind him. It invade

d," he says as he

move away, I hear the Consigliere qui

rve well," the Co

ainst the heavy wood, a tremor fina

, unwelcome heat still lingers. This is absurd. The man is a killer. A monster in a bespoke sui

down violently and

y mother's medical fee of twelve thousand dollars is due tomorr

dragging air through wet concrete, a dry, rasp

text me the estate rules earlier today, and type out a mes

n advance on my salary?

ng a mafia syndicate for a loan on my first nigh

ater, my scre

starting from day one of your probation. One thousand six hundred and s

and cover my face with my hands,

tell myself to be afraid, my traitorous mind conjures the image of ice-blue eyes catching

ly as afraid of t

-

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