Page 42 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

That day ripped away everything I thought I had. I’ve never really recovered. Maybe I never will.

After burying them, I shut down. Locked away that part of myself− love, family. It’s easier that way. Love is nothing but a weakness, leaving you vulnerable.

Slowly, I unclasp my palms. The drugs seem to have kicked in, as everything in my body feels stable.

I pick myself up from the floor and head back to my room. As I stare at the clock on the vanity that reads 1:54 a.m., one person comes to mind. Raven.

She’s trouble, I know, and I should stay away. Yet the memory of her touch lingers even though it’s been a good four days since that night— the night I stormed the bait location to ambush Tomasso’s side and came home with nothing but a cut to show for it.

It was another dead end. Somehow, Tomasso’s people didn’t take the bait. I, however, grazed my shoulder on a long scrap of metal on our way back from the location.

My hand grazes the stitches healing nicely on my shoulder.

I walk to my window, taking in the view of the large compound underneath the dark sky. My mind is suddenly racing with thoughts of Raven.

I need to get a grip.

The closer I let her get to me, the harder it would be to shut her out later. I recognize this feeling, and it is all shades of danger. I only want her for her body, but even that means giving her power over me.

I should have declined her gimmicks in the stitch room, but I couldn’t. The thought of having her clouded my mind and momentarily displaced all rational thoughts. I’d thought if I had her again, the unnecessary excitement my dick portrays at the sight or thought of her would vanish, but it’s the exact opposite. It has been the opposite for the past four days since I fucked her in the stitch room.

It won’t be for long though. I’ve experienced too many losses to know that letting emotions cloud logic will lead you nowhere. That has been my mantra, and I don’t intend to change it now.

Logic over emotions. Always.

Chapter thirteen

Raven

It’s been four days since Ezra unleashed that peak of pleasure within me, and he’d gone… no contact. Had he caught on to my plan? Was he now avoiding me?

God, I hate that I have to resort to making my body his pleasure toy just to safeguard myself. It was sickening.

But... was it really? I can't lie that the thrill of that night still makes my pussy pulse. His allure is my downfall. My body betrays me every time. It’s almost impossible to hate someone who makes me feel this way.

Ezra Marino− the one man who can turn my ‘no’ into a mind-blowing ‘yes’. However cold and unyielding he is, every single moment with him is electrifying. Sex with him doesn’tfeel physical anymore. There is something beyond…something undefined.

My mind keeps going back to it, replaying every second. It’s insane, all of it. I should feel disgusted, or at least ashamed, but I don’t. I feel… lost. And the worst part? I have no one to talk to about any of it.

Like every other night, I lie in my bed, alone, my stare burning holes in the ceiling, brooding about the mafia boss and the sinister world he shoved me into.

After the last time at the stitch room, I actually thought it would change something between us. Instead, he isolates me even more.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. This plan was a failure from the start. As if sleeping with Ezra would magically make him care. He is not that kind of man.

He’s not capable of love or affection.

I roll over in my bed and pull the duvet around me. I wish it would shield me from the cascade of emotions that sap my energy. I feel so small in this room, in this world, almost like I am shrinking under the weight of my own stupid hopes.

What did I even expect from him? Compassion? God, I was so naïve to even let myself go there.

Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow hard. These thoughts only make me unhappy. I need to stop.

My eyelids grow heavier, and the room around me blurs. I feel myself falling, sagging under the weight of exhaustion. The last thing I remember is the softness of my bed beneath me, and then…nothing.

When I wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of the doorknob rattling.

My heart skips, and I shoot up disheveled. Nevertheless, I am quickly running my fingers through my hair, working to look... I don’t even know, presentable? Is it him?

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