All Chapters of THE BEAUTIFUL MAFIA BOSS: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Zandra Franco POV“Come on, Ms. Franco,” the guy says as he holds the spoon up to my lips. “You have to eat something. Do you really want to starve to death?”I turn my face away with a huff. It’s been three days since I started my hunger strike. I trust these assholes as far as I can throw them. I know I’m a high-value hostage, so the chances that they’ve poisoned my food and water are slim, but I’d rather not take any risks. For all I know, they could have mixed everything up with a powerful sedative to keep me compliant.Like fucking hell.I glare at the man feeding me. There’s something strange about him. I’ve been observing them all very carefully the past few days, and I’ve noticed the other men don’t treat him with the same level of respect. They never include him in group huddles, and never bother talking to him unless he speaks first. He’s an outcast, shunned for reasons I don’t yet know.But I’m going to find out.“What’s your name?” I ask hoarsely. The back of my throat is

It’s a good question, honestly. Now that I’m standing before her, I can’t for the life of me remember what compelled me to come down here in the first place. Was it out of concern that she’d escape? Or was it because I couldn’t stand to see her like this?No, that can’t be it.“Tell me something,” I say sternly. “Anything at all.”“The hell are you talking about?”“Give me information about the Franco Mafia Family. How many men are under your family’s control? What would you say is the most profitable business operating under Franco’s protection? Tell me more about your allies, your enemies.”Zandra rolls over, facing away from me with a huff. “I’d rather die.”I don’t know what I was expecting to hear. Zandra Franco is loyal through and through. It’s noble, in a way, this unwavering determination of hers. But it’s also stupid.“Change is coming,” I tell her. “The downfall of the Franco is inevitable. The only question is whether it will happen sooner or later.” This catches her atte

“You told me I was free to check the premises,” he says with an innocent smile. Annoyance licks at the nape of my neck, hot and agitating. “I couldn’t conduct my search in one day. Too hard on my old legs, you see. So I decided to come back and continue my look around.”I swallow my anger and force a plain smile. Roman and Damien will be bringing Zandra up any minute, and I can’t very well have the detective lingering around to witness the whole ordeal. I need to figure out a way to get rid of him—and fast.“Actually, perhaps you can help me with something,” I tell him. “One of my drivers reported something rather strange earlier this morning. An item left behind by one of our customers. People tend to leave all sorts of things in taxis—all that rushing around. Would you mind coming with me to take a look in our lost and found room?”Detective Rossi hits me with a suspicious squint but reflects my smile all the same. Practiced, polite. “I’d be happy to help, Mr. Mancini. I live to ser

Alessandra Franco POVI move quickly, setting up meetings left, right, and center with Italy’s most notorious criminals. Thieves, smugglers, money launderers—the list is endless. It’s no small secret that the Mafia Franco Family has had a tight grip on all illicit activity in the country for the last two decades, raking in the lion’s share of profits.But now that I’ve made a big enough splash, everything’s about to change.The Franco Family are not without enemies, though many have been driven deep underground, biding their time. It took a little organization on my part, but in my experience, it’s who you know and not what you know that can give you a greater edge.“Why have you called us here?” Hakim asks, soaking his large feet beneath the water. “I’ll have you know I’m a very busy man.”“As am I,” adds Rustom, a man I’m convinced is made of nothing but bone.I sit on the edge of the wooden riser, breathing in the steam of the bathhouse. I chose this location for a particular reaso

Zandra Franco POVMy thoughts immediately snap to Xander. I’m equal parts flustered and angry. Flustered because the mere memory of his rich scent or his rough voice sends heat pooling between my legs. I wish I could control the way my body feels when I think about him, but I can’t. It reacts on instinct, every fiber of my being seeking him out like a moth to a flame.And I hate it.I hate it because I shouldn’t be thinking about Xander this way. I still can’t get the image of his gorgeous body out of my head. Even beneath the concealment of his suit, I could tell he was well-built and muscular. Our run-in at the bathhouse only confirmed my worst fears. I was tormented by his intricate tattoos, and amazed by his chiseled pecs, strong arms, and washboard abs. I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of his skin—and that makes me want to hate him all the more.Even though I’m bone tired and not excited to spend my make-up birthday at some loud, sweaty, sticky club with overpriced drink