All Chapters of Mafia Heir's Contract Wife [Mafia Games V]: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

[ D O M I N I C O ] “Ricchar said you weren't too thrilled to be there.” “I didn’t stir up any beef with 'em. Relax.” I switch the call to speaker, my other hand covering my stinging eyes. “I even helped his cousin.” “Help Maxim? With what?” Enzo mutters on the other end. “Steer clear of Leandro's little army of nutjobs.” Considering I barely know the guy and betrayed my own flesh and blood twice, I can say I’ve done my part. I'm done proving to the new Falco empire's successors that I'm no threat. “Maximiliano's not a problem. He hates Stefano. Always been loyal to Ricchar. And smart enough to stay out of your dad and Leandro's mess,” Enzo says with a quick sigh. “At least he's not another greedy, depraved asshole.” I'm not fully convinced, but I'm too drained to argue. Trust is a fragile commodity in our world, but if Enzo doesn't hate Maximiliano Falco despite their ongoing rivalry because of Enzo's new love interest, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt—for now.

[ S E R A P H I N E ] “Compete?” I scoff, my fists clenched. I feel like shouting. Hitting something. Kicking the wall. Throwing something out the window and... Is he serious? Is he never going to admit he's also been cheating? Maybe not physically. Yet. But emotionally? And with his ex-wife, of all people? For sure. Shit. I so want to punch him in the face right now. But I don't want my first mug shot taken with all these zits still on my face. I blame stress, cortisol, and this jerk who tried to get me pregnant out of wedlock. But mostly him. “There is no competition, Dominico! What the fuck are you even saying? I didn't get back with him! Okay? I never cheated on you! How many times do I have to say it?” “The way you act around him, the way you treat him... It doesn't say the same.” “Because he's my friend, and he actually cares about my wellbeing.” “So you come running to him every time we're having issues and tell him you think you're pregnant but not me?” He scoffs a

[ D O M I N I C O ] “I heard Rosalind’s about to be charged.” “With what?” I reply to the last person I want to deal with today. I'm sitting across from him with my glass of wine still untouched beside my plate. Suited up and clean-shaven, Pierre D'Ambrosi looks every bit the polished attorney his yuppie parents boast about, but there's a wariness in his eyes as he looks at me across the table. Unlike the last time we were in a dining establishment, I don't feel like bashing his face in with my bare fists tonight. But I didn't waste time on pleasantries, either. And I'm almost relieved that he's already dropping the small talk we’ve barely begun. I don't have the patience or the time. I can't waste another hour doing jack shit. Waste the rest of my night out here. And with this guy, of all people. Pierre lifts his wine glass. “Same charges as your father's—money laundering, racketeering. Heard anything about that?” “Just speculations.” “Ah.” He takes a sip of his dr

[ S E R A P H I N E ] “How much?” “About half.” I squint at Pierre as I sit across from him, trying to look normal, keeping my hands steady as I pick at the food on my plate. It's not a lot. This pesky nausea has been messing with my appetite since Friday. “Just a little above four hundred. ” “Good. Half's paid off and it's not goin' up.” Pierre sighs briefly, sounding genuinely relieved by my answer. “Dad sorted out the principal with his inheritance. I mean, what's left of it.” Thanks to my grandparents, rest their generous souls, my parents are no longer that worried about the bank loans. I still think most of the Tomassinis are too greedy to be offering business loans to small-to-medium enterprises. But it's not like I can turn back time and undo all of my parents' poor financial decisions. “And Dominico told you Ignazio no longer co-owns the bank. Correct?” “His nephew owns most of his shares now.” Pierre leans back and stares at me while staining his fork with th

[ S E R A P H I N E ] I can't believe he's here already. Here in my new workplace, especially. Who told him exactly where I am and where I work? Pierre? Or Dominico hired a private investigator to find me? Not farfetched at all, knowing his connections. “Three months and two days.” Dominico closes the door behind him, his brows and forehead creasing. “I'm done.” Shoot. No escaping this now. I toss my phone on my messy desk and sigh, my throat and chest growing tighter by the second. Just the look on his face... Darn. It hurts. The guilt's eating at me again, practically clawing under my skin. Although he looks like he hasn't slept for days, he still looks well-groomed. A bit too dressed up for an impromptu "dinner date". Still manly everywhere despite his longer hair. Given his bigger list of responsibilities, I understand why he hasn't found the time to get a haircut. I like it, though. It reminds me of the very first time I bumped into him at the country club. A year