I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 03

I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 03

My door lock had conveniently broken after he got back.

Lorenzo turned the handle. The room was dark, so he didn’t say anything.

In the silence—his breathing, ragged and heavy, and his heartbeat, loud and uneven. So loud I started wondering if he could hear mine.

He came closer. Closer.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

He didn’t shake me awake. Didn’t strangle me and demand answers.

He just stood there.

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel it—a sharp, burning stare, boring into my stomach. Like he was deciding whether or not to check something.

Don’t shake. Breathe steady. Act.

I didn’t move.

Then I felt the mattress dip.

Lorenzo lay down next to me.

That cold, hot stare was still fixed on me.

I gritted my teeth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Let’s add more fuel.

I stirred like I was dreaming, rolled over, and buried my face in his chest.

He froze. That sharp, burning look suddenly softened.

“Baby…” I mumbled.

He stiffened for a second.

I wrapped my arms around him, using the sweetest, clingiest voice I could muster. “Baby, hold me.”

I thought he’d be furious. Maybe slap me awake.

Because I never called him baby. He knew I was thinking of someone else.

But instead—

He stared at me with murder in his eyes, grabbed my arms so hard his veins popped… then heard me whimper and forced himself to loosen up.

He cupped the back of my head and pulled me tighter against him.

He kissed my hair.

Then he started rubbing my back, slow and clumsy, like he was trying to soothe a child.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Daddy’s got you.”

I went completely still.

This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t sane.

Lorenzo De Luca was a smart man. The smartest man in most rooms. When he got those first texts, he should’ve known. He should’ve had an annulment drawn up within the hour and thrown me out on my ass with nothing.

But instead—he kept denying it. Kept twisting himself into knots, refusing to believe I’d slept with someone else.

And now he was self-hypnotizing. Stealing a word meant for someone else.

What the hell is he doing?

He thought I’d fallen back asleep.

Without a sound, he pushed back the covers, touched my ribs, and slowly traced down along that mole.

Just one light stroke. Cool fingers.

So fast I barely registered it before my whole body jerked and I started trembling uncontrollably.

That text was made up. I didn’t even know that being touched there would feel like an electric shock!

I couldn’t pretend anymore. I tried to roll away.

Lorenzo stopped tracing. Instead, he wrapped both arms around me and pulled me face-to-face against him.

Tight. Unbreakable. Like twin locks clicking together. So tight I could feel his heartbeat through his ribs.

Erratic. Wild. Strong.

He whispered: “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

He’d lost his mind.

Thrown out every logical, calculating bone in his body. Turned into a straight-up animal.

Primal. Direct. No room for negotiation.

Like he’d dragged me into his den and now I just belonged to him.

He’d objectified me. Objectified himself. We weren’t fragile humans with sensitive souls anymore. We were two lumps of iron.

Click. Locked together.

And that meant I was his, and he was mine. Simple as that.

He’d lost his goddamn mind.

In the dark, surrounded by his burning chest and iron arms, I stared at Lorenzo’s sleeping face.

Until my eyelids got heavy and I drifted off.

—

In the dream, I was crying and begging three-years-ago Lorenzo to let me go.

He just looked at me coldly.

Until I finally screamed, “I don’t owe you anything! You have no reason to keep me locked up!”

He went quiet for a full minute. Then he looked up.

“You owe me. Your sister ran off and broke the engagement. Your family gave you to me instead. So you’re paying for her for the rest of your life. I’m never letting you go.”

I collapsed on the floor, touching my face—so similar to my sister’s—and finally understood.

He wouldn’t let me go because I was her stand-in.

Three years of misery after that.

—

I woke up, and Lorenzo was already gone.

His side of the bed was smooth and pristine. Like he’d never been there at all.

I had a message from him.

“Do you have any other photos of her? Or videos?”

I replied: “Bro, I don’t need to steal pics. She lets me film.”

“Is that how you tricked her? With that silver tongue? She’s so young, you animal.”

I stared at my screen, insulted. “We’re genuinely in love??”

And I’m not that young. I’m twenty-three. Almost done with grad school.

Lorenzo: “Leave her. Name your price.”

I shot back: “I told you, man. Genuinely. In. Love. You leave her. I’ll name your price.”

Lorenzo: “You don’t deserve her love.”

That stung. Gender-swapped me is pretty great, actually.

So I went all in. Saved a picture of some model’s abs from online—and another, uh, different body part. Sent them both.

“My package is plenty big, man. Don’t worry. Your wife’s eating well.”

No crashing sounds this time.

But a second later, from the living room—Lorenzo let out a dry, mocking laugh.

“Ha.”

Not big enough? The guy in the picture looked pretty well-endowed to me.

What’s so funny, then?

Another message from Lorenzo came through fast.

I looked. My hair stood on end.

“On the 27th of last month, you or someone you paid went to Barcelona. You bought a SIM card there. Am I right?”

“You really think I can’t find out who you are just because it’s an anonymous SIM?”

“I’m going to go through every single person, one by one. Carefully. Like skinning you alive. It’d better have been you who went to Barcelona. Because if you paid someone, and they mailed it to you… that means there’s a shipping address.”

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, man.”

That last word—pure, mean mockery.

I wasn’t backing down. “I do sleep with one eye open. So I can see your wife more.”

“CRACK!”

A glass broke in the living room.

Lorenzo: “She’s just playing with you.”

I dug in my heels. “Oh yeah? Then how about you see how she’s been acting lately?”

—