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81. Harsh Words
Last Updated:
2024-08-23 04:08:50
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The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 259. Swimming
Slowly, very slowly, Ella slid the towel from her shoulders and set it carefully on the lounge chair behind her. Her arms were thin, covered in fading bruises.Daphne’s heart twitched as she saw them. She herself had plenty of bruises, but it was never easy to see it on another’s body. Especially on a girl who reminded her so much of herself.Max pushed himself up onto the edge of the pool, water dripping down his arms, and patted the concrete beside him. “Come sit. Let’s start with toes.”Ella padded over and lowered herself to sit beside him. Her legs dangled over the edge but didn’t touch the water yet. Daphne joined them on the other side, folding her legs beneath her.“Okay,” Max said like this was a very serious mission. “Step one: enemy reconnaissance. Gently tap the water with your foot. See if it tries to bite.”Ella gave him a side-eye. “Water doesn’t bite.”“Tell that to jellyfish,” he said solemnly.She dipped her toes in. The water rippled. Max exaggerated a gasp and scoo
The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 258. Learning
Daphne walked down the wide hallway, her footsteps quiet against the polished tile. The villa was massive, all soft lighting and high ceilings, but right now, it felt like it was holding its breath.She found Ella where she expected, curled in the corner of the guest room she was given, tucked beneath a throw blanket on the window seat like a very small, very tired question mark. A worn paperback sat untouched in her lap. The girl was staring at nothing.Daphne knocked gently on the doorframe, not stepping in yet. “Hey, kiddo.”Ella didn’t answer, but her eyes flicked toward Daphne. Acknowledgment. Better than nothing.“We are going to sit at the pool for a bit,” Daphne said, keeping her tone light. “Sun’s out, water’s perfect. Max already claimed a lounge chair and is probably judging the landscaping with his eyebrows. Want to come?”Ella looked down at the book, then slowly back up.“Is it… a rule?” she asked cautiously.Daphne’s heart squeezed. “No, sweetie. It’s not a rule. You do
The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 257. Adopt Her
Ella sat with her knees pulled to her chest on one of the barstools, chewing toast with the wary precision of someone raised in a war zone. Her tiny hands still trembled, but she hadn’t tried to bolt yet.Progress.Max had stayed seated long after the others finished, still sipping his black coffee. Across from him, Daphne wiped syrup off her tank top with a linen napkin and zero grace.Landon was pacing again.“Once we get fully settled, we need to plan an attack on Marquez,” he said.Daphne didn’t say anything. It didn’t look like Landon was looking for a reply anyway. She turned her attention to Ella instead. “Do you want me to take you back to your room?” she asked softly.Ella blinked at Daphne, her toast still hovering near her mouth.“I can walk by myself,” Ella said quietly, setting the toast down on the plate with exaggerated care.Daphne gave a tiny, encouraging nod and slid off her stool. “Of course. I’ll just tag along in case you get lost. This place is ridiculous.”“It’s
The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 256. With Syrup
Ella sat stiffly at the far end of the terrace table, shoulders hunched like a bird expecting a storm. Her legs swung just above the floor, and she kept her gaze locked on the untouched glass of orange juice in front of her.Max, seated across from her, didn’t say much. He quietly chewed on a pastry.He picked up a slice of pineapple with his fingers and held it up like it was something suspicious. “You ever notice how this stuff looks like armor on the outside but is all sweet and yellow on the inside?”Daphne blinked. “What? Are you analyzing a pineapple”Landon sipped his coffee and smirked. “Our Maxwell here is a philosopher.”Max set the slice down with exaggerated care. “I think if fruit had personalities, pineapple would be the secret softie. Like, it acts all tough, but deep down it just wants a hug.”Still no sound from Ella. But her posture eased just slightly. Her shoulders dropped, not much, but enough for Daphne to notice. Max didn’t look at her. He just reached for anoth
The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 255. Get Her
Daphne didn’t know what hit the pool first: her towel, her sandal, or the absolute scream of rage echoing off the villa walls.“I’m going to kill you,” she repeated, louder this time, storming back toward the house.“Do you want breakfast first?” Max called after her. “They say not to kill on an empty stomach!”Landon didn’t follow. He just watched her go with that maddening half-smile, like he knew she’d be back. Like he knew exactly what string he’d just plucked in her chest.Daphne slammed the door behind her and braced both palms against the wall, breathing like she’d just sprinted a mile.Married.To Landon.She turned slowly and caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror—wide eyes, frizzing hair, and that damned gold ring catching the light like it was laughing at her.She looked… married. Not in the bridal-magazine kind of way. More like someone who’d woken up in the middle of someone else’s life. Someone who’d broken every rule she made for herself—and weirdest of all, didn
The Mafia Boss's Pregnant Bride 254. A Great Morning
Daphne groaned as she felt sunlight penetrating her eyelids.Her head throbbed in dull, pulsing waves. She cracked one eye open.White sheets. Soft pillows. A ceiling fan spinning lazily above her. Not her room.Not her bed.Panic flared for half a second until she remember she was in Costa Rico now. Where they had escaped Father.Right…Everything rushed back in a slow, fragmented wave—Ella’s sleepy eyes as she was led away by Alma, the heavy heat of the night air, the sting of gin, the bass thumping through her ribcage. Her ridiculous blue dress. Max’s laughter. Landon’s steady hands pulling her off that damned barstool before she could do something really stupid.She groaned again, dragging a pillow over her face.Costa Rica.A villa by the sea.Freedom… or something that looked a lot like it.She let the pillow fall away and sat up gingerly. Her muscles ached in strange places from dancing, her mouth tasted like old lemons, and her hair looked like it had survived a tropical storm
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