Lahat ng Kabanata ng BLOOD AND VOWS: THE MAFIA WRONG BRIDE : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

CHAPTER 22THE ART OF PUSHING LUCKCHIARAThe door clicked shut behind him, and I stood frozen in the center of the room, my lips still tingling from a kiss that never happened.“Did you actually think I was going to kiss you?”The words replayed in my head on a loop, and each repetition scarred my mind. My cheeks burned with a kind of humiliation that felt like I'd been stripped naked in front of a crowd. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!I pressed my palms against my flaming cheeks and groaned. “What the hell were you thinking, Chiara!? That he's sweep you into his arms and confess that his coldness was just a mask and that beneath it is just a wounded man who needed someone to love him?” I groaned again. This isn't a romance novel, this is my life. And in my life, men like Lucien Moretti didn't fall for girls like me. They use, discard them, and move on without a backward glance.I stumbled back to the bed and collapsed onto it, burying my face in the thin pillow. I offered myself to him

CHAPTER 24 THE DEVIL'S DEADLINE LUCIEN “Open it.” The guards pried off the lid and the wood splintered, then gave way. Inside, staring up at me with dead, clouded eyes, was the severed head of Enzo Lorenzo. Enzo was one of my most reliable soldiers, a man who'd served the Moretti family for fifteen years. His loyalty was like a shadow that never leaves. Enzo had a wife who thought he worked in imports, two daughters and a house in the countryside. And now his head was sitting in a box on my doorstep. I stared at him for a long moment, watching his expression that was frozen in an agony. It made my jaw clench until my teeth ached. "Boss." Marco appeared at my shoulder. I didn't hear him approach, but I wasn't surprised. He had a sixth sense for moments like this. When he looked down at the create, his eyes went wide. “No! Not Enzo!” His face went hard as stone. "Who the hell would dare something like this?" "Volkov,” I said in a flat voice, but the beneath the

CHAPTER 26A TRUCE/BARGAIN LUCIENThe easiest thing on the plant is predicting a cornered man. Especially when you have their cards in your hand. The silence on the other end of the line stretched so long I could almost hear Dimitri's mind working. Dimitri might be a plain ass bastard, but the old Russian was no fool. He knew exactly what I was offering and exactly what it would cost him to refuse. There is no doubt that if Sergie carried out a second coup, there's a 70% chance, it'll succeed. He's a Volkov afterall. "Sergei is nothing," he repeated, but his voice had suddenly lost its earlier confidence. "He's just a ghost. A fucking memory."“Are you sure about that?” Silence passed between us for a few seconds, then I decided to push forward. "A ghost who's been building an army under your nose for two years." I leaned back in my chair, letting the leather creak. "Fifty men. A warehouse in Zurich. A mole inside your own organization feeding him your movements and you're busy

CHAPTER 28A WINDOW TO THE WORLDCHIARAThe door clicked shut behind him, and I was alone again.But there was something that was different about him. It was almost as if he was thrown… off balance. I shook my head, shaking the thoughts away from my head. I was still sitting in the bed, my fingers absently tracing the silk sheets, when I noticed him pause at the window. I thought he had left… He was standing by the glass, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. His head tilted slightly as he looked down at something outsider. Curiosity got the better of me, so I slipped out of bed on my still shaky legs and crossed the room to stand a few feet behind him. Through the window, I could see the front courtyard below. I could see Marco speaking urgently to a group of men. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in his body movements. The men nodded and left in a hurry, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones. Marco stood alone for a moment, staring after them, t

CHAPTER 30THE WRONG BOOKCHIARAI turned the page and froze.There, tucked neatly between the yellowed pages, was a sheet of paper folded into a perfect square. My heart doubled over as I pulled it out, my fingers trembling slightly. But when I unfolded it, there was nothing on it.It was just a blank sheet, aged and worn at the edges, like it had been sitting in this book for decades. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. As I smoothed it out on my lap, something else caught my eye again. The page I'd turned to, had words underlined. "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me."The line was underlined twice, and beneath it in an elegant writing was: Freedom is not a place. It is a choice.My eyebrows dipped.This isn't my handwriting, neither have I written in this book. It was too precious too me, defacing the words would feel like a sin.. I flipped to another page and there was more underlining and more notes in the margins."I would always rather be happy than dignifi