All Chapters of The Mafia Devil’s Contractual Wife : Chapter 11 - Chapter 19

~Alina~The rain had softened into a mist by the time we laid Nana to rest. We buried her in the backyard, in the little garden she loved so much, the one she spent her final days tending when her hands were still steady enough to hold a trowel. The grave was simple and humble, just the way she would have wanted.A few neighbors and some old family friends came to offer their condolences, their black clothes still damp from the earlier storm. Their murmured prayers floated weakly in the heavy, damp air.Guilia and I stood side by side, our hands clutching each other tightly, silent tears sliding down our cheeks. I could barely hear the priest’s final words over the sound of my own heart breaking.When it was done, we climbed into the back of the sleek black Maserati that Rocco had parked by the curb. We still shivered from the cold and grief as the car rumbled to life, pulling away from Nana’s house for the last time.Soon, we were back at Castello Romano, pulling into the stone drive

~VALENTINO’S POV~ The door creaked open, and before I even looked up, that cloud of expensive perfume hit me straight in the face. Bianca Romano. She didn’t walk into the room. She stalked in like a queen, wrapped in red silk so tight it looked painted on, a slit up her thigh flashing every time she moved. Every step, every toss of her fake-blonde hair, every flash of lace between her legs, screaming look at me, pick me. Pathetic. I leaned back in my chair, slow and easy, dragging in a breath through my nose. Here we fucking go again. Bianca is Padrino’s niece. Twenty-six years old and spoiled straight through to the bone marrow. She grew up gnawing on resentment while the Padrino’s empire rose without her useless father’s name on it. Her bitter old father taught her young: if you couldn’t build power, seduce it. If you couldn’t win respect, weaponize your beauty until weak men begged for your scraps. She hopped up onto the edge of my desk like she belonged there, spreading

~VALENTINO’S POV~The glass hurtled toward my head, spinning through the air with a dull whistle.I shifted my body a second before impact.The heavy tumbler smashed into the wall behind me with a vicious crack, shattering into a rain of glass shards.Whiskey splattered across my bare chest, cold and stinging, dripping down in slow, wet trails.“What the fuck!” Bianca shrieked like a scared cat and sprang off my lap, stumbling back toward the door, horror twisting her face.I just sat there, amused as fuck.Smiling slowly as I watched Alina, the little spitfire, stand there with her chest heaving, her eyes wild with rage, her fists balled like she wanted to throw something else.A slow, smug smile pulled at my mouth.Beautiful.She’s fucking beautiful.I dragged my fingers through the whiskey dripping down my chest, dusting it off lazily with my hand as I glared at her.I had not expected this reaction from her.And goddamn, I liked it.I liked that I could twist her up this much with

~ALINA’S POV~The heavy door shut behind him with a final, echoing thud.Toronto?We’re going back to Toronto?Why?He just became Don. Doesn’t he have a thousand things to do here? People to threaten? Power to claim? Why the sudden rush?I blinked, trying to piece it together, still tasting the salt of his sweat on my lips, my body humming from everything that just happened.I thought I’d have to convince him. Beg, maybe. I was already planning my argument, my excuses, but just like that, it’s happening. He’s going back.God must really be on my side.Once I get back, I need to meet with the lawyer immediately, claim the inheritance, and get back on my feet.A soft chuckle escaped my lips, finally.I pushed off the desk, only to wince as the cool air brushed over my skin. My dress slipped down, barely clinging to me. I looked down and gasped.Oh, my God.The once-elegant black mourning dress was now a shredded mess. My thighs still stung where his hand had smacked them. My lips were