All Chapters of Indebted to the Mafia King: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Eleni“Let me get that.” Dante swoops into my path and tries to grab the full plate of pasta out of my hands.I hold on with a small smile. “I’ve been walking for two days. I think I can handle carrying my own dinner.”“You are stubborn.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Can I take your glass instead?”I nod, and he lets go. He’s been doting on me for the last three days, barely letting me do anything. It’s sweet, but it’s also driving me insane. I pad from the kitchen into the living room and sit on the couch. Dante’s pasta and his glass of wine wait on the coffee table. I set mine next to his, and a moment later, he appears with my glass of sparkling apple juice. We both look at it for a moment. Dr. Fletcher hasn’t called yet. I haven’t gotten my period yet. Without talking about it, Dante and I both agreed I’m not going to drink until we know one way or the other.“What do you want to watch tonight?” I ask, shattering the spell.He passes me the glass and blinks a few times. “I pick

DanteTwo days before El’s first class at Tandon, Tony and I sit on the back porch of the safehouse. I roll a glass of scotch between my palms and stare at the trees I know hide Christos’ grave.“I don’t think there’s another choice at this point,” I say.“She was just kidnapped, Dante.” Tony takes a long pull of his beer. “Putting off college for a semester is a goddamn option.”I shake my head. “She’d be devastated. And she fucking earned it, Tone. I’m not letting Camila take this from her.”“And if you move her into the city, Camila only has the opportunity to take her life.” Tony rolls his eyes.I sip my scotch. He’s been touchy since he found out about Henry. I know it’s the right move. Even if it scares the shit out of me.“Has there been more activity?” I ask. “Or are we just hiding from shadows at this point?”“Nothing huge.” Tony shakes his head. “I don’t fucking know what they’d do at this point. They’ve got the drug trade in a stranglehold. Everyone’s hiding from goddamn sh

EleniI shuffle through the hangers in the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom in the city apartment Dante showed me just before everything went wrong a few weeks ago. Classes start tomorrow. Tomorrow! And I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear yet. Most of my things from the house have been shipped here, but as I flick through them, all I can think about is how much longer they’re going to fit me for. Leather pants? Silk camisoles? I couldn’t have picked clothes with less stretch if I wanted to.Someone leans on their horn outside, and I’ve lived here way too long to jump, but the city noises are still abrupt after so long away from them. The cell the Russians kept me in was almost completely silent, and there are no neighbors by the safehouse. I missed the noise. I think.My mind drifts to the house on Staten Island, apparently empty right now. It wasn’t silent there by any means, just quieter. Quiet enough that I should’ve been able to hear the sirens headed for bur

Eleni“How did you get the gradient?” Kaley leans over and points at the background of the webpage on my laptop. “I feel like CSS is organizing against me. I can’t get it to work.”I glance at the front of the classroom, where Professor Villanueva taps away at her own computer. She said we weren’t supposed to help each other with this assignment. It’s a test of our initial capabilities. But then I look back at Kaley, who clasps her hands under her chin and flutters her eyelashes. God, she can’t be twenty yet, can she? After my semesters at night school, I was able to start Tandon a little ahead of the usual freshmen, but Kaley seems so young.Something in my stomach twinges. I swallow, praying it’s not midafternoon sickness. Thankfully, the rush of saliva that always precedes my attacks doesn’t appear. This twinge is more like what I imagine the baby kicking will feel like. When it can do that. Almost like the not-quite-baby inside me is telling me I should help out another at least r

DanteI lean against the wall of the elevator chugging up the building to where Eleni waits and look at myself in the shiny black reflection. My suit nearly disappears, but my face sticks out like a sore thumb. If elevator reflections can be believed, I look pale and tired. In its defense, I feel pale and tired. It’s Friday, and I’ve barely seen El all week except to pack her off to the women’s prison to talk to a psychopath who kidnapped her. Even worse, I’ve spent almost the whole week at Piacere.Just thinking about my once-beautiful club hurts. My shoes and the bottoms of my pants are gray from tramping through ash, trying to find anything in the wreckage worth salvaging. Somebody located the door to the basement, which is mostly untouched, on Wednesday, so we’ve been in and out of there constantly. I’ve got a metric fuck-ton of booze and nowhere to sell it. The stage, the lights, the bars, all gone in one blaze. Two people fucking died. Going out to Piacere every day is a nightma