All Chapters of The Mafia's Pawn: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Russo’s POVThe moment Cleo said yes, it felt as though the world shifted. It wasn’t just relief that washed over me, but a rush of emotions I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. I had planned this proposal with the intention of sealing our public image, convincing Nonno and the rest of the family that our union was real. But as I slid the ring onto Cleo’s finger and pulled her into my arms, I realized it wasn’t just an act anymore. She had become something more that I couldn’t afford to lose.After the proposal, we returned to the main beach area, where the rest of the family was lounging, playing in the sand, and soaking up the sun. Cleo slipped away to change into the bikini I’d picked for her at the mall, and I settled into a sun chair, trying to keep my composure as I waited for her to come back. I told myself that this trip was still about business, about convincing everyone that our relationship was genuine but my mind kept wandering back to her and the way her voice had tre

Cleo's POV The soft morning light filtered into the room, casting a warm, golden glow over the sheets. I blinked awake, disoriented for a moment as the memories of last night rushed back. Russo’s arm was draped over me, his body warm and solid against mine. I lay still, trying to keep my breathing even, but my mind was racing. What had I done? The air was thick with the awkwardness of the morning after. My heart pounded as I carefully slid out from under Russo’s arm, trying not to wake him. I wrapped myself in the satin robe draped over the chair and tiptoed to the window, staring out at the ocean. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him; the intimacy of the night before felt raw, leaving me vulnerable in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Russo stirred behind me, and I heard the rustle of sheets as he woke up. I braced myself, pretending to be absorbed by the view outside, but I could feel his gaze on me, warm and searching. “Morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. I could he

Russo’s POV We were sitting together, just enjoying the rare moment of peace. I could feel Cleo relaxing beside me, her laughter easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized was still coiled inside me. She had a way of doing that, of making things feel lighter, even if only for a moment. But that moment was shattered when Viktor walked in without knocking. His steps were quick, his face serious. Without saying anything to Cleo, he bent down and whispered into my ear. “It’s about your parents’ murder,” Viktor said, his voice low but intense. My entire body went cold. I hadn’t heard those words in years. We had called it an accident. I had tried to convince myself that was all it was. But now... murder? I couldn’t hide the shock on my face. Cleo noticed immediately. Her laughter died on her lips, her expression turning from relaxed to concerned. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice careful. I stood up, my mind racing with the weight of what Viktor had just told me. I had to go.

Russo’s eyes bore into mine, the weight of everything we were about to do hanging in the air. I could feel his resistance crumbling, the logic of the situation winning out over his need to protect me. I knew this wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best chance we had. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he finally said, his voice low and reluctant. “But we do this my way. If you’re in, you follow every order I give, no exceptions.” I nodded, swallowing hard. “Agreed.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw something deeper in his eyes, something beyond the hardened exterior he always wore. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Cleo.” “I do,” I replied, my voice firm. “And I’m ready.” Russo stared at me a moment longer, then nodded to Viktor, who had been standing silently by the door. “We’ll change the plan,” he said, addressing his second-in-command. “Cleo will go in. We’ll get the location and time from her. No moves until we’re sure he’ll

The ride back to the safehouse was thick with tension. Russo’s jaw remained clenched, his eyes fixed on the road, barely blinking. I sat beside him, still trying to steady my breathing after the chaos at the warehouse. We had come so close, and yet Marco had slipped away again, vanishing into the shadows like smoke. Viktor, in the seat behind us, was already on the phone, making calls and arranging for the cleanup. His voice was cold and efficient, but I could tell he was frustrated too. This was a missed opportunity, and we all knew it. I glanced over at Russo, hoping to say something, anything, that could ease the storm I saw brewing inside him, but the words wouldn’t come. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as if he was holding back an eruption of rage. “We’ll get him next time,” I said softly, trying to fill the silence. Russo’s eyes flicked toward me briefly before he shook his head. “There shouldn’t have been a ‘next time.’ He should’ve been dead tonight.” His vo