OATHBOUND: Married To The Don Of The North のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

{GIOVANNI'S POV}**Uncle. Uncle?Fuck. Hearing that word from her gives me the shivers. Like.. “Uncle.” How nice it sounds. Perhaps, if she had been pleading that word while he was fucking her, it would've made sense. No, no, no, no, no, Giovanni. Wake up. Out of that thought now; she's just a minor. I can't fuck a minor. But then, if I was to have sex with some woman, and let's drop all the daddy, papi shit.. If the woman was to call me Uncle, would I like it? Perhaps. But then when this little girl called me Uncle, when she pleaded the word Uncle, at first I was surprised. Then I became amused. I was excited; my blood and nerves were bubbling for no reason. Yeah well, for a reason. For this reason. And I felt energy going down. Down, onto my most manly area. My dick. Focus. Let's focus.But then, focusing back

{CARA'S POV}**It’s been two weeks. Two weeks without seeing Edmondo. That’s good, right? It has to be. I keep telling myself it’s for the better, though sometimes the thought creeps in: Why hasn’t he come for me?I try not to dwell on it. Instead, I focus on my days with his mother.The day I first met her was nothing like I’d expected. After only a few minutes together, she cried with a stoic demeanor. “I never liked her,” she said bluntly, brushing away false tears with exaggerated trembling fingers. “Agata, your sister was… razz, I suppose. Bold, brash. But good as a Donna, not as a wife. Never as my son's wife.”That day, she sat across from me in her expansive sitting room with a distant gaze. As if the memories were taunting her. I hesitated before speaking. “But didn’t the Don love her?”Her head snapped toward me and her expression turned sharp. “Love?” She scoffed. “What does an iron man like Mondo know about love? He stuck to her for pleasure. And her intriguing pers

{EDMONDO'S POV} * * The lamp flickers faintly on my desk. It casts uneven shadows over the papers I’ve spread out. Not that it matters. The words are turning into a blur. Have been for days now. I lean back in the chair. My fingers press to my temples, willing the pounding in my head to easen. It doesn’t. It never does. Marco’s already gone to fetch Giovanni. He knows the drill by now; Giovanni’s the only one I trust with important issues pertaining to my life. And I hate that. I hate that I’ve reached the point in life where trust feels more like dependence. Dependency. It's literally the case now because aside Giovanni, no one knows about my flaw and no one should. I rub a hand over my face, dragging it down to my chin. The meeting with the Cosa Nostras is just in three hours, and I’m barely holding all this shit together. No longer my eyes, my brain betrays me now. What's sad is that it's not just the vision anymore. It’s worse than that. My fucking b

{EDMONDO'S POV}**When I get close, I turn away.I walk past her, keeping my gaze straight ahead. I can smell it before I even see her; blueberries. That fucking scent. My fucking scent. On her, it's sweet. Tempting. And it claws at me, like it knows the hold it has. Cara. Her presence is like an itch I can’t scratch. And I fucking hate it. She stands there, glowing under the full moon. Her hair shines underneath the moon like some goddamn fairy-tale red. She's practically radiating like she’s the fucking center of the universe.But I don’t stop. I try not to flinch. I’m not letting her weaken me. Not now. Not ever. If I stop, if I let myself acknowledge her, I might slip. Might give a damn. And I can’t afford to do that. Not with the mess I’m dealing with. Not with her father that I have to kill. That sorry-ass bastard has it coming, and I’m going to make sure he get

{EDMONDO'S POV}**I’m sick. Sick of the damn reports. Sick of the lies. And sick of her. Every damn day, I feel it creeping in; questions that claw at my insides. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come back? Is she fine? Has she eaten? Hope mother isn't making her feel unwelcomed? What is she up to currently?Is she on her way here?Is she outside my estate gate?Should I send a message?Maybe an order to bring her back?Damn, I'd told myself she’d return after I shooed her that night. I’d told myself she wouldn’t give up. But no. No, she didn't. A week has passed, and not a damn word. A week and four days since I last saw her, a week and four days of wondering if I made the right call by telling her to get lost. Wait. Hold on. Am I missing Cara?Shit.Fuck, anyway, I kept an eye on her through my men and the