Chosen By The Mafia by Nina Daniel (best reads of all time TXT) 📕

Mafia Marathon

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Author: Nina Daniel

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Lana Bellen is an 18 years old naive student with a dream of flying high. She has a passion to travel her wonderland and when it executes; she collides into real danger; a fatal mobster.

A 28 years old Armando De Luca who is famous as Lord of Mafia. His heartless trait radiates fear in the core of hearts. Betrayal awakes his devil, his loaded bullets thrusts their bodies before culprits could clean themselves up. He is known as El Veneno (The Poison). As heir of D. L Enterprises Holding Inc and Master of Spanish Mafia, he owns half of the intercontinental sphere where his sharp jaw and cold eyes confirm his foreboding. Nobody dares to mess up with a man like him. But when his own captive makes his heartbeat for the first time,

How would he fight with love and ferity?

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Author: Nina Daniel
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I know.

It has not been an easy task for me to avoid showing him my disgust at his imposition of having to make the trip or at the order to prohibit contact with my ex-boyfriend.

He has no right to dictate what I can or cannot do, but I feel disadvantaged.

He already scared the shit out of me when he called off the Board meeting, he could do the same to his shares in the company at any moment and he'd bankrupt me immediately. Just as he gives me everything, he is also capable of trampling me and tearing me to pieces.

“N… I didn't know that we could talk…while they gave us…massages” I confess, trying to avoid the conversation.

* And I have a low voice, like a kitten being petted as it rubs against its owner's lap.

In my case, I'm just looking for the friendliest way not to put on a show before arriving at the place where we met, just at a time when I'll have to show myself as Leonardo's future wife.

"I don't think George or Ana would mind, do you guys? They are also extremely respectful of confidentiality.”

“Don't worry, sir” says Ana.

“No problem. Go ahead,” says George.

The truth is that I had no idea that we could talk to masseuses either, who knows what kind of crazy rules this man has.

"Er… I…" the voice shivers a bit. “I'm not sure I want to talk about my concerns… Right now…”

“Why?”

“Because I'm…relaxed.”

“For that very reason, the less magnitude of defense mechanisms, the better the probability that you will be able to speak with total freedom.”

"Please, Leonardo…”

“Won’t you be honest with me, Gigi?"

“Well, the mere name ‘Gigi’ is lacking in honesty, but between us, it's a kind of romantic code. Only I have never shown myself as someone's official partner.”

“I understand that you and Joshua have been dating since you were in school.”

“I mean… something so public you know. Leonardo Ferrari has thousands of results if you Google the word.”

“You've done it?”

Oh hell.

I think he was right about the fact that a massage that makes my muscles silky smooth makes me less defensive.

So this attention only carries the object of manipulating me? Stop there, my conscience, it's not the time to be paranoid.

"Perhaps..." I admit.

"Don't worry," he warns me. “Just know that anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, you should let me know. To me. Nobody else. And if anyone approaches you, you warn me.”

“What…? Will you be some sort of... ranger?”

“ Yes. Because you are an extension class.”

I don't know whether to perceive it as a compliment or an insult that I have been locked in a ‘class’ or that he wanted to say plant or animal.

"I'm sure there are many like me on the waiting list... for Leonardo Ferrari, eager to get into your bed," I declare.

This Italian knows when to recognize a Bella donna that deserves his attention and when it is something that is temporary for a matter of hours or one night.

“And I wished for you for a long time, as long as possible.”

Why does it make me feel red that he says those things? Oh, of course, we are facing two strangers who are touching us from end to end.

Then he discovers something that I notice before I feel it myself.

"Don't do that, George. Don't you dare,” he declares as I watch Ana massaging the twins on his legs. Don't go below the waist. It's my wife.

He adjusts my towel well and excuses himself:

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Ana is doing it with you," I warn her. Excuse me Ana, it has nothing to do with you.

She gives me a smile.

"Then, Ana, stop doing that. Move on to the hair and hand massage, please,” he warns.

"Of course," Ana replies.

Leonardo turns around and gives George the same instructions.

"Try to behave elegantly when we're there," he tells me. And I don't know whether to interpret it as a joke or as a warning, but the only thing I am sure of is that I can't allow this anymore.

As soon as we get off the plane, I'll have to give him the forty before things get worse.

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