All Chapters of Mafia Heir's Contract Wife [Mafia Games V]: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

[ S E R A P H I N E ] The sky hangs low. It's windy today. A thick blanket of gray clouds cast a somber hue over the private cemetery. It's a spacious graveyard, one of the biggest here in Montreal. We're here with Dom's cousins and their families. The kids are running around, giggling and playing with bubbles and some of the flowers. The way they look so happy and carefree tugs at my heartstrings. Dominico’s cousins gather around the grave with flowers in their hands, their faces etched with grief. My chest slightly aches every time I steal glances at him. Not a single tear on his stoic face. I don't need him to take off his sunglasses. I just know his eyes are distant, and despite being only inches away from him, I feel the gap between us. We haven't really talked all day. Yesterday, too. “God, our shelter and our strength, You listen in love to the cry of Your people: hear the prayers we offer for our departed brothers and sisters, especially Dominique Deschanel. Cleans

[ D O M I N I C O ] Something's pounding my head. From the inside. And it won't fucking stop. The sheets feel unfamiliar. I groan and swat the blanket away. I'm cold, and the silence pressing in around me only seems to double the pain. “Cazzo.” My mouth feels like a sponge, rough and a bit numb. Shit. Of course I'm freezing my balls off. I'm buttnaked. The pain in my skull is spreading. The fuck did I drink? I rub my eyes until the glue in them becomes a stinging pain. The other side of the bed's empty. Where's Sephie? I haul my ass out of bed and wince. “Fuck.” The incessant throbs behind my eyes only deepen. All my fault. I took the "grieving son" act too far. About four glasses of wine. No breather between the last three. More or less five hours of sleep. Now my body aches in ways that remind me I'm no wine connoisseur. Rubbing my temples, I try fixing the bed without tripping over myself. Not sure why I feel the need to piece together everything that happened

[ D O M I N I C O ] I owe her an apology. This talk can't wait another day. I can't just sleep this off. Neither can she, from the looks of it. We're out here in the backyard, the wind tugging at our clothes and rustling the leaves of the trees lining the property fence. It's quiet tonight. A bit too cold, but peaceful. Yet it doesn't tame the chaos inside my head. Guilt's been gnawing at me from the moment I saw Mamma walk out of the precinct. She barely talked or looked at me during the drive, which says enough about how she feels about this conversation we're about to have. Mamma sits on one of the chairs in the patio, alone and tight-lipped, her slender arms crossed. She looks like she's contemplating her entire existence. Or she's just convincing herself that I'm the biggest disappointment in her life. Yeah. Probably. I get it, though. It's nothing new in our family. I've gotten so used to it that I don't even feel that affected.Her expression shows a mix of anger and disapp

[ S E R A P H I N E ] “Don't burn. Please. I need you to be perfect tonight. Absolutely perfect.” I let out a shaky breath and stir the pasta one more time as the white sauce I just made simmers in the pan. It's his favorite pasta. Homemade and fresh. The pot on the other burner is still cooking the spicy sinigang — the pork and veggie stew Dominico made me swear I'll cook for him every week. The house is quiet like most evenings, but it's not eerie. I prefer this. It's the complete opposite of the noisy campus dorms where I've spent the last couple of days. And nights. Because I thought some time apart will be good for us both. “Yeah. Right.” I scoff at myself. Well, sure. Being away from him gave me enough "me time" to focus on my schoolwork this week, and it gave Dominico some space. A bit of privacy while dealing with the grief and stress. But now I'm seriously doubting it's the long-term solution most of our relationship problems need. I already miss him. Badly. Way m

[ D O M I N I C O ] “What d'you want?” “Un semplice 'grazie' può bastare.” [A simple 'thank you' would suffice.] I don't respond and rush into the busy hallway. No longer handcuffed. Free to walk out of this shithole, at last. Despite the time, half of the precinct is still buzzing with activity. Where the fuck is my phone? No one mentioned how much longer I'm supposed to wait for it out here. I glance at my watch. If nothing else comes up, I'll be home before two. I'll be in my bed by four at the latest if Enzo and Mamma decide to show up. Clenching my jaw, I stifle a yawn and walk past another interrogation room, my head just about spinning. I'm still wrapping my mind around what just happened. After hours of waiting and skirting redundant, mostly half-baked questions, I narrowly escaped two criminal charges — thanks to this meddling prick showing up out of nowhere. But it's not the end of the animosity between us. The bitter taste in my mouth remains. And I don't pl