Lahat ng Kabanata ng HUNTING ROSE; THE MAFIA DARKEST OBSESSION : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Frederico Grey Di Grazia;As soon as I entered the room, I slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the silence. My mind was a storm, chaos spinning out of control.What the hell had happened back there?I stalked her like a predator, got furious when someone else touched her, and then… I kissed her.What kind of madness was that?Running a hand through my hair, I paced the room, my thoughts as erratic as my breathing. I needed a distraction, anything to pull me out of this spiraling mess.Grabbing my phone, I put on an old Italian ballad, the familiar melody filling the air as I threw myself onto the bed. But no matter how hard I tried, she was there.Rose.The curve of her body. The way her skin flushed under my touch. Her defiant glare, and the sound of her moan—it haunted me, taunting me in a way that felt maddeningly cruel.My jaw clenched. Why the hell was I acting like some hormonal teenager over a stupid, infuriating kiss?Shoving my arm over my eyes, I willed myself t

Rose Alexandria Sinclair;"On your knees." That was all he said. Thirty minutes later, here I was—still kneeling, watching this arrogant bastard sip his whiskey like he owned the damn world."This is ridiculous, Red. Why are you doing this?" I asked, my patience wearing thin.His gaze snapped to mine, his voice a low growl. "For the last time, Rose, don’t call me Red. Don’t. You. Dare."I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath. "Bastard.”He finally stood, swirling the last of his drink. "You can get up. It’s past midnight."And just like that, he was gone, leaving the private lounge without another word. I stood, stretching my stiff legs and glancing around the dimly lit room. A heavy sigh escaped me.I couldn’t do this anymore. Not the kneeling, not the power plays, and certainly not dealing with his melodrama."Oh, I’m the great Frederico Grey Di Grazia. No one dares cross me." Please.I glared at the door he’d walked through. “How did he even get this rich? And what the hell ha

Rose Alexandria Sinclair;Edward led the way, his grip firm but gentle on my arm as we walked through the quiet paths of the estate. Nathalie trailed behind us, her loud footsteps crunching the gravel.“So, where exactly are we going?” Nathalie chimed in, her tone dripping with suspicion. “Or is this some secret lovebird getaway?”Edward sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “Do you have to comment on everything, Nathalie?”“Of course. I live for this stuff,” she replied with a grin, clearly enjoying herself.I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible, you know that?”“Thank you! I’ll take that as a compliment.”After a few more minutes, we turned a corner, and the view ahead stopped me in my tracks. A gentle waterfall tumbled into a sparkling pool, surrounded by lush greenery and dotted with turtles sunbathing on the rocks. The sunlight filtering through the trees gave the place an almost magical glow.“Whoa…” I breathed, taking in the beauty of it all.“Told you it

Frederico Grey Di Grazia “Mr. Di Grazia…” The Senator began, his tone careful but confident as he unlocked the case in front of him and turned it toward me. “This is forty million dollars. Take a good look.” With a calculated flourish, he gestured to the second case beside it. “And there’s more where this came from. Double, if necessary.” I leaned back in my chair, swirling the glass of whiskey in my hand, my eyes fixed on him. Alessandro Vittorio—a man with ambition carved into every line of his face. He wanted something, and he wasn’t here to mince words. “So, you think money is enough to buy my influence, Senator?” I asked, my voice low and sharp, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. “I’m not a fool,” he replied, his smile thin. “But money opens doors. And your influence? That moves mountains. I want to secure the presidency when the elections come, and I know you have the means to make that happen.” I chuckled darkly, setting my glass down on the table between us. “Th

Frederico Grey Di Grazia;The air in the room was heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive cigars. I leaned back in my leather armchair, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows across my face. Around the long, polished mahogany table sat the most powerful men in Italy, bankers, media moguls, politicians, and mafia dons. They weren’t just business associates; they were members of La Confraternita di Potere. The Brotherhood of Power.No symbols. No chants. No meaningless rituals. This was the occult of reality: a society where alliances were forged, futures were decided, and enemies were erased without a trace.I leaned forward, fingers steepled, as the Senator entered. His shoulders were stiff, his smile too forced. He was nervous. He should be.“Welcome, Senator Alessandro Vittorio,” I said, gesturing to the lone chair in the middle of the room. “Sit.”He paused, scanning the faces around him. These weren’t just powerful men—they were the kind of men who made governments r