All Chapters of Forced to Wed the Mafia Heir: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

GETTING READY FOR MARQUEE: THE SYNDICATE CLUBKim waited outside, leaning against his black SUV with his arms crossed, his gaze scanning the surroundings with calculated sharpness. His stance was one of casual alertness, though I could tell he’d already scoped out every possible exit. It was his habit to know each point of escape before we even stepped foot anywhere. I hadn’t mentioned our plan to hit the club tonight; I preferred to drop it on him at the last minute. A little spontaneity, I reasoned, could keep things interesting — or chaotic, which, with Ava, was often the same thing.Inside, Ava let out a low whistle as I turned, striking a pose for her approval. Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Holy hell, Kylie. You’re like... sex on legs. Or maybe death on legs, ’cause I swear, Lysander’s going to kill every poor guy who even dares look at you.”I smirked, smoothing down the snug black leather pants that clung to me like a second skin. “Oh, please. Lysander’

MINUTES LATER AT THE CLUB PARTY My chest tightened, seeing her perched on another man’s lap. She wasn’t here for Lysander, yet her eyes betrayed a lingering attachment. Lysander noticed my gaze and muttered under his breath. “She didn’t come because of me.”“She definitely did,” I replied, unable to shake the suspicion.“Look, I can’t just throw her out,” he said, voice low. “She’s here a lot, and I haven’t run into her since… that night. I usually keep to the back.”I forced a nod, the ache in my chest hardening into something sharper. Lysander cupped my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze. “It’s just you, Kylie,” he murmured. He glanced at his watch, then took a step back. “I really have to go now. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” With that, he moved through the crowd, which parted like waves around him. Dorian followed, and Ava slipped in beside me. “That idiot,” she muttered.“Who?” I asked absently, eyes scanning for any sign of the girl.“Dorian. Has the audacity to tell me

KYLIE REGAINED HER CONSCIOUSNESS - AVA'S DEPARTURE A sudden, violent nausea jolted me awake, pulling me out of the thin fog of sleep. I barely made it to the bathroom, stumbling over cold tiles before collapsing against the toilet, my stomach heaving as I emptied what little I had left inside me. I gripped the rim, too drained to even lift my head, as the fluorescent bathroom light painted everything in a washed-out, harsh glow. Lysander’s steady hand reached down, brushing my hair back, his fingers cool against my clammy skin. He flushed the toilet quietly, his gaze never leaving me.“Guess I’m not so glamorous anymore, huh?” I tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak rasp.“Not funny,” he murmured, his jaw tightening. “This should never have happened. I should have kept you safe.”“You did,” I insisted, using the toilet seat to pull myself to my feet. But Lysander’s hands were already on me, strong and grounding, steadying me as I swayed. “Maybe a bath will help,” he suggested, a

KYLIE AND LYSANDER BROMANCE CONTINUES TO GROW STRONG...Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he drew back, leaving me breathless and trembling. With a gentle but insistent motion, he shifted me beneath him, his gaze softening as he whispered, “Let me take care of you.” He guided himself against me, pausing to meet my eyes as he began to move slowly, allowing me to adjust to the fullness. His touch was unhurried, each movement careful as he eased me into a steady rhythm, coaxing the tension from my body.He murmured softly, his words both soothing and deeply possessive. "I need you close, principessa. Your warmth, your touch — it’s everything."Gradually, he picked up the pace, sensing my growing comfort, and his hand moved to stroke me gently, sending shivers through my body. The mix of pleasure and intensity left me breathless, and soon, I felt myself tipping over the edge once again, my fingers gripping his shoulders as I let go.When he finally released, he stayed close, h

COLD MOMENTS BETWEEN KYLIE AND LYSANDER As I lay in bed, staring into the shadows, sleep eluded me entirely. The emptiness of the space beside me felt almost tangible. For the past three days, Lysander and I had barely spoken, a thick tension hanging between us since that last, heated argument. Despite that, each night, without fail, we’d drifted into sleep side by side, gravitating toward each other in the dark. It was a silent truce, one we both respected in the quiet hours of the night, but as soon as morning broke, the distance between us returned like an unyielding tide. Tonight, though, that warmth was gone, and the cool sheets seemed to press into me, reminding me of his absence. I missed his touch, his breath, the steady beat of his heart lulling me to sleep. I missed him even in ways I hated to admit — to myself, or to him. I could almost feel the weight of his hand on my waist, guiding me into a deep slumber. Yet, here I was, alone, my body yearning in a way that I didn’t