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Chapter 0062
Last Updated:
2025-01-22 13:17:29
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The Mafia King's Regret Chapter 0063
“Fate.” “Destiny.” I turned my head to look at him sideways. “It feels like fucking destiny. Like we were meant to be together. But …” “You’re not together,” Carlo noted dryly. “What would I do without you around to finish my sentences?” “Drink more, I suspect.” I laughed, but didn’t feel
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Layla I’d always prided myself on my independence. Before Vasco, I’d crafted myself from a country girl into a big-city med student. And after he dumped me on my wedding day … Well, I picked myself up by my bootstraps and rebuilt my life—my self—brick by brick then, too. And Aldo, this new vers
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He was trying to buy my love, and I was afraid it was working. One evening, I sat in my office filling out charts—I was actually able to take time to do this, since Marco’s absence had been filled by not one but two doctors—when a low male voice spoke from the door of my office. “Hey, Layla.”
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Layla I’d agreed to dinner with Aldo at the estate simply because I was home and I had to eat. Might as well let someone else cook for me for once, right? If the payoff meant including Aldo in the family meal … I could live with that for a night. It wasn’t like Aldo’s personal chef wouldn’t be w
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Aldo I leaned against the hood of the old Corvette, my gaze fixed on the soft line of trees around the lake as I tried to clear my mind. Lately, my usual distractions—guns, fighting, and cars—weren’t working. My mind kept drifting back to … The slight rasp of a throat clearing dragged me back fro
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I beckoned Eli over to the car. “You ready?” He nodded, his little face fixed with determination, and somehow I just knew he’d be good at this. I knew he’d watch and listen with unwavering focus as I leaned over the engine. Eli leaned over next to me, and when I pointed, he didn’t hesitate. He fol
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Layla The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of Eli’s voice filled the small dining room. Aldo’s presence was like a shadow on our dinner, turning the taste of my Nonna’s lasagne recipe to ash in my mouth. But as Eli talked, relating the hours spent with Aldo working on the car, his eager gri
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Aldo Afternoon light streamed through the oversized windows of the manor as I made my way from my office to the kitchen, drawn by the very distinct smell of Melissa Marcello’s cooking. I had not one but two personal chefs—and still, my mother’s cooking was better. She didn’t venture into the kitc
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AldoThe Marcello estate hadn’t seen a night like this in far too long. Since Layla and I had wed on this same lawn—nearly a year ago now. How had it been so long? How had time passed so quickly?And more importantly: How had we been married for so many months, yet shared so few moments like this on
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I was late to Eli Marcello’s party. But I was also on the hunt, and as a cop, one of those things definitely took precedent. Eli’s party would go on for another several hours. And he’d be ten for an entire year after that.But I’d found a clue, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to follow it.I was
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The estate bustled with movement: Marcello men arming themselves, strategizing, talking shit, waving proverbial fists at the enemy, posturing, preparing for war … All the things men did. But still, they awaited my command.I stood at the head of the table in the grand dining room, where a makeshift
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Fear.Shit.“Where is he?” I demanded.Carlo jerked his head toward a nearby room. “The doctors are with him now. It was bad, Layla. The explosion took out half the building. We were lucky to get him out alive.”I nudged past him and into the room.Aldo lay on the hospital bed, his face pale, a deep
The Mafia King's Regret Chapter 167
LaylaAldo had missed another dinner.Or, rather, he was in the process of missing it. I sat at the head of the long dining table, where he’d normally sit; for some reason it felt wrong to leave it vacant. Beside me, Eli pushed food around his plate with his fork, and on his other side, Vanessa lean
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EthanI, once again, found myself at the precinct long after the rest of my desk-mates and cohorts had vacated for the night. I mean, the police precinct was never truly empty—it was New York City, so the place was always hopping—but the difference between day shift and night shift was, well. Night
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EthanI got to the coffee shop far earlier than was necessary—close to an hour before Vanessa and I had decided to meet—and proceeded to sulk in the corner like a loser, downing coffee.I’d long since stopped smelling the fresh-baked goods layered behind the glass counter, and I was far too nervous
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“But I’m funny and charming,” Ethan said, with a smile that was indeed quite charming. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for not being able to resist.”I groaned, trying very hard not to smile myself. “This is the worst flirting I’ve ever seen.”“It’s not flirting!” Ethan protested, lifting his hands in
