Page 127 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

He sighs, then kisses my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you sure?”

I laugh. “Come on, Marco. Let’s pack.”

We move around each other, and I smile.

I love adventures with Marco. I love the life we have.

And I can’t wait for the adventures to come.

Thank you so much for reading my book, please leave me a review they help me succeed.

I’m in the throws of writing Liam and Stassi’s book, follow me on Amazon to stay updated on when it will be on pre-order.

If you enjoyed Roisin and Marco you will love Gwen and Nikolai Petrov in Bratva King’s Secret Twins

Here is a sneak peek…

Chapter 1

Gwen

“Well goddamn, darlin’, you keep spinning like that you might just take my whole paycheck,” Jacob, a regular with graying hair and a worn smile, yells to me.

I roll my hips, arching my back while I slide down the pole. My black curls cascade over my shoulder, and a sultry smile spreads across my lips.

“Baby,” I purr, swinging my hair over my shoulder. I slide to the floor and crawl closer to the balding man holding a wad of 5’s, “it’ll be the best check you’ve ever spent.”

He howls like a maniac, and his friends happily shower me with bills.That’s right, keep them coming. Your paycheck will definitely put me ahead of payments for Mason.

I lean back, letting the pink light from above wash over me. The music fades, and Justin's sorry-ass voice comes over the loudspeaker. “Give it up for the delicious Cinnamon!” I roll back on my heels, licking my lips at the older men. “But hold onto your bulges, boys, because next up is a sweet little slice of heaven. Welcome Angel!”

I gather all the money I can, stuffing it into my panties and bra and make my way off the stage. “What the fuck, Dylan? I had at least ten more minutes in my set!”

Dylan, the club’s owner, rolls his eyes as he lights a cigarette. “Gwen, you were boring the crowd.”

“How fucking dare you?—”

“Aye, watch your fucking mouth, or I’ll take you off the books for a week!” I press my lips firmly together, crossing my arms over my chest.

“That’s illegal, youknow.”

“Andyouknow I don’t like legal chat in my club.” Dylan flicks the cigarette ash on the floor, giving me an annoyed look.

I smile, grabbing the cig out of his hand. “I see. I can only talk legalese when I’m getting you out of trouble.” Dylan gives me a humorless laugh as I take a long pull. “Go figure.”

Two years ago, I was at the top of my class at Georgetown Law, with dreams of becoming the best defense attorney in Washington, D.C. But then Dad disappeared after Mason threatened to break his legs. Mason had told Nana Rose that Dad’s debt was her debt. Despite everyone telling me not to, I dropped out of Law School to help pay off the debt because no one hurts Nana Rose, not if I can help it.

So when Dylan’s club was facing the threat of being shut down due to rumors of illegal activities in the secret “peek-a-boo” rooms upstairs, we made a deal: I would use my legal expertise to help him, and in return, he would allow me to work on the main stage at Dream Palace until I paid off my father’s debt.

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” Dylan snatches his cigarette back. “Now go out there and offer a dance to some of Mason’s crew. They haven’t spent any money yet.”

Fuck. I shift my weight from side to side, biting the inside of my cheek. Mason probably sent some of his men to collect the measly 500 dollars I pay towards my father’s quarter of a million-dollar debt. “Come on, they love Angel way more than me.” I roll my eyes, trying to count the bills in my hands quickly.

“Chop. Chop. You know you’re Tyler’s favorite.” I roll my eyes, continuing to count. 15. 20. 25. Fuck, I only got 375.

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