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Chapter 21
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2022-03-09 15:55:58It’s the same dream. The same dialogue; the same putrid smell of blood; the same end—with a bullet to my head—and then I wake up in cold sweat, breath heavy, and heart racing.
I’m tired. So tired of this.
Slowly, I rise to a sitting position, the action pulling on my wound. Wincing, I check the wound, it should be time to replace my dressing.
But when I raise my shirt, surprise colors my face to see the fresh gauze covering the wound. It’s been replaced in my sleep?
A low hum from beside me captures my attention.
TheiaSome changes were made to the first 5 chapters, however, chapters 3, 4, and 5 are still in review. I apologize in advance for the inconsistencies. They should be fixed soon. Thank you so much for reading my book.
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“Let go,” I tell Dante out of frustration but it was a mistake. Barely a step forward and I’m already falling on my ass. I howl in pain. “Dammit!” cursing at the pain, I clutch at my wound as if physically holding it could somehow subside the pain. Dante is at my side in a flash, “Are you okay?” he asks but I don’t have any words for him. In the next moment, he has one arm wrapped around my waist with the other under my legs, bringing me up and carrying me down the stairs. There wasn’t even time to react! He lifted me and carried me out of the room like i
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“Not quite. Again.” It’s been a full half-hour of this—learning how to fall properly. When I’d asked Dante to teach me how to fight, I expected to be knocked around on my ass, but I didn’t think that’d be the only thing I’d be doing. And for what seems like the hundredth time today, I fall. Again, I feel the sharp stinging pain in my back and my butt. Rolling over, I’m glad we’re in the gym and not outside in the training yard because the firm training mats give a bit of extra protection. Dante has managed to clear the center of the gym of any equipment and had training mats laid down. Without the mats, I’m sure I’d have cracked a bone or two by now.
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Did I just do that? But within a split second, he’s jumped back up immediately. If not for Luca’s hollering in the background, I would have brushed it off as my imagination. “Did you see what I did?” Dante asks me, not even having broken a sweat since we started hours ago. “Fall on your upper back, chin down to avoid hitting your head.” His hand snaked around me to touch the exact place where I should aim my fall. I nod absentmindedly. To be honest, I couldn’t see what he did properly, and now he’s too close to me. His masculine scent is too overpowering that I can’t focus on what he’s saying. “…ember, the longer you’re on the ground, the less likely you can escape, let alone win.” He finishes and I mentally
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“Is this really necessary?” referring to the guards. Since the attack, Dante has doubled my security. Apart from Killian, Daveed, and Adeline, there are another three guarding a bigger perimeter around me. “You said so yourself, I’m with you.” Dante smirks, hands idly finding their way into his pockets, but he doesn’t answer. “You ready?” “For what?” But Dante doesn’t need to answer. The moment the gigantic wooden double doors opened, I knew what he was asking.
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I can’t help but moan in pain as I carefully lie on my back. Training had been rough today. After learning to fall properly, Dante’s finally letting me spar a bit with Adeline, but it only meant more falling. As careful as I can manage, I relax into the bed bringing my mother’s journal up to read it. Reading the journal has brought me comfort for the past couple of days. Once I had enough courage to open it, my mother’s words wrapped around me like a warm embrace. It’s like she’s beside me again. The first entry I read is much like the other entries. I could almost imagine her as she gushed about her travels. How beautiful the London countryside is. How she would love to take me and Bianca there on our next
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It takes me less than five minutes to change out of my pajamas and into dark jeans and a black shirt. Hurriedly, I pull on the leather jacket Dante tossed me earlier. Putting my hair in a high ponytail, I rush to the closet to grab a baseball cap. Black, to match my ensemble, but a strong contrast against my blonde hair. “Hmm, it looks good on you,” Dante hums when I approach him. “Huh? What does?” Confusion paints my face, it’s not like I had done anything different with my clothes or my hair. Dante lets out a small chuckle, “The ring. It suits you.” Oh. After our blunder the
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“Hang tight this is going to be a rough ride.” As if he needed to tell me what to do. I grab onto his waist as the bike’s tires burn through the asphalt. There’re so many questions swimming in my head, but the most pressing one is why are these people shooting at us? “Fuck!” Dante curses as one bullet whips past us, too close for comfort. Dante swerves hard just as another motorcycle whips past, the driver holding a gun trained on us. I feel Dante’s muscles tense against my body as he makes a sharp turn, taking us to a busier street using the traffic as cover. For a few seconds I can breathe easier, the gunshots seized and we’re given a moment’s r
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“So, what did your mom leave you?” Dante asks once we are safe behind our bedroom doors. It’s a bit unnerving how he’s suddenly asking all these questions since his declaration in the car. Is he actually serious about learning everything about me? “Just this, it’s a key to somewhere I think,” I reply, fishing the pouch from my jacket pocket. “Here. Have a look.” I add, offering the velvet pouch to him. But instead of the pouch, Dante snatches my hand, turning it over as the pouch falls, forgotten on the floor. “You’re hurt,” he says, concern etched on his face as he inspects my hands. I hadn’t realized it until he mentioned it. No wonder my hands
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12 YEARS LATER. “Come on! We’re going to miss it! Hurry, Papa!” “Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” The man hastens after his daughter, weaving through a small crowd of people that had just arrived, same as them. The young girl complains, “We promised Lily we’d be on time—there!” she points to the entrance of the auditorium. “Lily!” Lily waves back frantically at her sister. “You made it, Rose!” Lily replies running up the remainder of the distance between them. “You missed the opening ceremony but the displays are out. Come on!” The twins leave their father behind, opting to rush inside the auditorium that was converted into a small gallery to display the artworks created by the students of the summer art program. The auditorium is large for a school with a population of only a few hundred, but the family decided that a private school was best for their kids. “Ah, you’ve finally arrived,” Jean greets her husband as he strides toward her. She looks as beautiful as ever with her
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Jean“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” he asks when he notices the tear that escapes my eye. “I won’t have tears for our reunion, love.”I quickly wipe away the tears that managed to stain my cheeks and pull away from the man I used to call my husband.With my head still spinning, I manage to get out of work immediately with the promise that I would close the deal with the mysterious art donor.Dante—or rather, Gavin and I find ourselves behind the safety of my apartment doors soon enough.“Now,” I order just as the doors close behind us. “Explain yourself.”Gavin quirks an eyebrow at me, “Quite a warm welcome, love.” I sense the sarcasm in his voice which makes me roll my eyes at him.“When you explain yourself, I might reconsider.”“Why are you mad at me?” he asks almost in disbelief. “When everything I did, I did for you.”“For me?” I scoff loudly, returning the same energy and disbelief. “You left me alone for two years! Even when I asked you to come—” then shaking my he
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JeanI think it’s been three days since I learned about Dante’s death. Three days that I’ve stayed home, calling in sick for work because there’s no way I can hold myself together in public when I burst into tears every hour or so.It’s been three days since my world shattered.The television has been playing on the same news channel the whole time with me waiting for any developments. I dove into the deeper parts of the internet, looking for any information but there is none to be found.“This is it, huh?” I whisper to myself, clinging onto the fleece blanket wrapped around me as I stare out the window. The heavy rain doesn’t help my mood at all, but it gives me comfort that the sky weeps for my loss too.I go to sleep that night feeling a blackhole-sized void in my heart.~~~The next morning, I woke up with several texts from the gallery asking me to come back to work. I’ve informed them that I couldn’t come but it must be an emergency if even my head supervisor is leaving me voic
Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel] Chapter 135
JeanI don’t remember the bar being this stuffy, but I somehow find myself suffocating in the middle of a conversation with my colleagues. And suddenly the black dress I’m wearing is too short and too tight on my body.I shouldn’t have come tonight. It’s a full night at the club, and it doesn’t take long before I request to move to a private room. I’m met with various curious and lust-filled looks but I ignore them. Parisians know how to party, and oftentimes those parties involve more than just drinking and dancing, there’s always something more.I’m sure my colleagues assumed I was asking for more, but I simply needed to get away from the crowd.Lara invited way too many strangers, but I figured this party was more for them than it was for my work anniversary. But I go along with it. I’ll just have to find an excuse to leave a bit earlier than the rest of them.“Jean, why aren’t you dancing?” Lara pipes up hugging me from behind. I chuckle softly, she’s already buzzed. “Ditch these
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Jean I fumble with my coat as I reach for my phone in my purse. The rain hasn’t let up once since December rolled in. I would have preferred to stay in the office today, but the statement for Bianca’s tuition came in my email last night.I tried to call her, but Bianca’s phone seems to be turned off and I went straight to voice mail.“Hey, Bub. I’m on my way to the bank now to pay for your tuition and other fees. Let me know if you need anything else— Oh! And as usual, do you want me to release your trust yet or not? That’s all bye! Call me back!”The answer has always been the same. Bianca doesn’t want to touch the money our parents left us until she was making her own. And I took it upon myself to pay for her education despite her protests.But I still figured I’d ask her every four months or so. Bianca was sustaining herself by working part-time and getting free lessons by volunteering for every camp and workshop. But she grew up sheltered and pampered. As her big sister, I still
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DanteIn the end, Jean leaves like a thief in the night. She left no note except for the signed divorce papers on top of the living room center table. I watch from the balcony as Jean shoulders a small carry-on bag with only her essentials. Despite the thundering protests I feel stirring in my chest, I know that tonight is the night I lose her. From the corner of my eye, I spot a few men with guns trained at her, ready to fire at my command. Their previous orders were to not allow Jean out of their sight, which includes having to injure her if she gets taken away by enemies again. But this time is different.Luca stands beside me, watching the same scene unfold. “Dante, are you sure about letting her get away?”I understand his sentiments. The amount of time, money, and effort I’d put into making her mine, only to watch her walk away in the end.And I was sure. But as I watch her walk away, I find out that letting her go is the single hardest thing I’ve done in my life.“Yes, tell m
Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel] Chapter 132
DanteI let Jean cry in my arms. The contract was a way to keep us both tethered to each other, and now that it’s gone, there’s nothing officially tying us together. In a way, we both lost someone tonight.“What happens now?” Jean asks with the softest voice. She sniffles a bit before sitting up, but she doesn’t leave my lap.With us finally being at eye level, I can see how red Jean’s nose is, her cheeks are tinted pink as well. She’s beautiful, and I make sure to tell her just that.“Will you stay?” I ask instead, even though I know full well that Jean’s already made up her mind about this long ago.Her eyes soften as she takes me in fully. One of Jean’s hands comes up to cup my cheek, and she smiles ever so softly as she whispers my name.“Dante… I love you,” Jean starts and it’s the saddest I’ve ever heard her utter those words. I know there’s a but coming up. “I never asked for this life, and I—I don’t want any part of it.”Jean finishes talking, shaking her head from side to sid
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DanteThe day I’ve been dreading has finally come. The day that I let her go.I watch Jean silently as she stares out of the wall windows. With the rain softly pattering outside, it reflects my mood perfectly. Jean looks stunning even in sleep shorts and a pullover she stole from my closet. She looks so perfect in my clothes, in my penthouse… and in my life.Suddenly the folder in my hand feels heavier than it should be.I ground myself before approaching Jean, needing to be a hundred percent sure I can handle this conversation. Because once I start, there’s no going back.“Hey,” I whisper in her ear as I wrap my arms around her from behind. Jean leans into my touch, resting her head against my shoulder.“What is it?” she asks, a frown on her face as she turns in my arms to face me. She must have noticed my agitation. “Is everything okay?” Jean reaches forward and cups my cheek.“Yeah,” I reply simply, offering her a reassuring smile—at least I tried to. “Come here for a sec.”“Dante,
Fallen From Grace [Married to the Mafia Novel] Chapter 130
JeanUpon hearing those words, I notice that Dante had made himself scarce. Now that I think about it, he didn’t enter the living room with me and Bianca. He most likely left the penthouse to talk to Noah. How do I know that? Because there is no way in hell that Dante would have allowed Bianca to travel alone right when the investigation for the Regis family is about to start.But there’s something in the air that doesn’t quite feel like home.The woman in front of me may look like my little sister, Bianca, but she’s different. The last time I saw her she still had her baby cheeks and that wanderlust look in her eyes, but now that’s all gone.Her eyes no longer hold wonder in them but wisdom that only hardship and experience can mold. Her features look more angled, more mature.It makes me wonder if I somehow look the same to her or if I’ve changed in her eyes as she has changed in mine.I smile at my sister, albeit a little sad that I missed out on an entire year of her life. My baby
