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CHAPTER 17: The Silence Between Us
Last Updated:
2025-04-01 17:10:00MIA CRUZ
I tossed and turned, my sheets tangled around my legs, my mind refusing to give me peace.No matter how many times I shut my eyes, the scene played on repeat—the gunshot, the screams, the way Marco’s arms had caged me against him as he rushed me out the back door.The way blood had spread across the pristine floor, staining the elegance of the night with something raw and violent.I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to take me, but it never came.And then—BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!My alarm blared through the room, dragging me into the present. I groaned, pressing my hands over my face. The sharp ring was an unwelcome reminder that life didn’t pause just because my world had been turned upside down.I forced myself to sit up, my body feeling heavier than usual. My heart was still racing from memories I couldn’t shake, my hands curling into fists in my lap.Everything had changed last night.
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Mia stepped back into her bedroom, her heart knocking against her ribs. The air between them was thick—charged with something unspoken, something heavy. Marco stood near the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the flashes of lightning outside. He had rolled up the sleeves of her father’s pajama shirt, exposing his forearms, the fabric slightly loose on his powerful build. She swallowed hard, hugging her own arms as another loud clap of thunder shook the apartment. The storm had grown worse—angrier, more relentless. Marco turned at the sound, his eyes flickering to her. “You alright?” She nodded, though her pulse was anything but steady. “Just… the thunder.” His gaze lingered for a moment before he gestured to the bed. “You should sleep.” Mia hesitated, glancing at the large bed, then at him. The room was warm, but not enough to chase away the chill that clung to her skin. Maybe it was t
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The rain had picked up again, soft droplets clinging to the diner windows, turning the world outside into a blurry haze. Inside, the lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a warm glow on the silver table where Mia sat, nervously tracing the rim of her glass.Dave was talking — about books, about some ridiculous historical fact that normally would’ve had her full attention — but tonight, her mind was elsewhere.Marco.Her phone sat in her lap, buzzing occasionally like it was mocking her.I’m on my way to the diner.Her heart skipped for the hundredth time.Was he serious? Would he really show up here?“Mia,” Dave’s voice broke through her thoughts, softer this time. Almost careful. “You’re somewhere else tonight.”She blinked, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry. Just… distracted.”Dave gave a short chuckle, but there was no humor in it. His eyes flickered down to her phone like he already knew exactly who was distracting her.“That friend of yours?” His tone was light — but God, the bite b
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Mia barely heard a word Dave was saying.Her mind was still stuck in him.Marco Valentino.That look in his eyes.Those words.Mine.She shivered — except it wasn’t from the cold.It was from the way her body remembered the heat of his presence even after he was gone.Get a grip, Mia.Dave was still rambling awkwardly beside her, hands shoved deep into his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he was about to get whacked in broad daylight.“…seriously, Mia. That guy’s intense. Like, mafia movie final boss level intense.”She almost laughed.If only he knew.But all she managed was a small, exhausted smile.“I’m fine, Dave.”“You sure? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure he wanted to rip my head off.”Mia sighed. “He didn’t.”“Not yet,” Dave mumbled under his breath.That actually made her chuckle.Soft. Tired. But real.Her feet ached from standing so long, her head throbbed from everything that just happened, and the idea of squeezing herself into an overcrowded bus after surviving Marco Valentino felt
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Marco’s POVShe had no idea what she was doing to him.No fucking idea.Marco sat alone in his penthouse, lights dim, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, staring out at the city that knelt beneath his feet like it belonged to him.Because it did.Everything he wanted, he took.Everything he desired, he owned.Everything he touched, he marked.That was the world of Marco Valentino.Until her.Until Mia.The little waitress with fire in her eyes and a softness in her soul that made him feel…Unsteady.Off-balance.Human.And God, he hated feeling human.He wasn’t supposed to want someone like her. Sweet. Uncomplicated. Broke. Ordinary.But ordinary had never looked so fucking beautiful.Ordinary had never smiled at him like she had — without fear. Without expectation.Mia was the first woman in his entire cursed existence who didn’t want anything from him… except maybe for him to leave her alone.But it was too late for that.Way too fucking late.He’d crossed the line the moment
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Mia sighed, running a hand through her hair as she stepped into her bedroom. As much as she wanted to linger in the quiet morning with Marco, today was still a workday. Reality was waiting.She pulled open her wardrobe, grabbing a fresh outfit. Behind her, she could hear Marco moving around the living room.By the time she emerged, dressed in a fitted blouse and tailored pants, he was standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low and steady as he spoke.“Come back now,” he told the driver. A brief pause. Then, “Yeah, the rain’s lighter. Just be careful.”Mia glanced outside. The heavy storm had passed, leaving behind a soft drizzle. The streets glistened under the muted morning light, damp but no longer flooded.Marco ended the call and turned toward her, his sharp gaze raking over her appearance. Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t comment.“You’re heading to work,” he stated rather than ask
The Mafia Man wants my Heart CHAPTER 22: The Tension We Can’t Escape
Mia woke to the soft patter of rain against the window, the storm from last night reduced to a gentle drizzle. For a moment, she stayed still, letting the warmth of the bed and the steady rhythm of Marco’s breathing beside her keep her grounded.Then it hit her—Marco was still here.Her eyes flickered open, and the first thing she saw was him. He lay on his side, one arm resting beneath his head, the other draped loosely over the duvet. His face, usually hardened with intensity, was relaxed in sleep. The sharp angles of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the slow rise and fall of his chest—it was a side of him she’d never seen before.A flutter stirred in her stomach.Carefully, she shifted, trying not to wake him. But as soon as she moved, his eyes cracked open, dark and unreadable.For a second, they just stared at each other.Then his lips twitched. “You’re watching me, little mouse.”Heat rushed to her chee
