I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 05

I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 05

He stood up slowly. Six-foot-three, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Clothes looked made for him.

I realized he wasn’t wearing a suit today. Just a tight black sweater.

The fabric stretched across his chest.

He looked down at me and took off his blue-light glasses. Tossed them onto the couch.

“Keep going, Vieve. Let’s hear how many more nasty things you’ve got to say to me.”

I shook but I didn’t stop. “Also—I don’t owe you anything. My sister’s back in the country. If she finds out how you’ve treated me, she’s never going to like you.”

That got through. A tiny, fast flicker of a frown. “What?”

I swallowed. “I’m leaving. And not just leaving—I’m divorcing you.”

I threw the separation agreement at him and ran for the door.

There. It’s out.

No more walking on eggshells.

I felt light. Giddy. Like I’d finally gotten to the front of a long line and was climbing into the rollercoaster.

Then the fear hit.

I lunged for the front door, grabbed the handle, yanked it halfway open—

“SLAM!”

Lorenzo punched the door shut.

He pinned my hands. “You dare?”

His face wasn’t twisted. It was almost calm.

But his eyes were bottomless. His breathing went ragged and wild.

“De Luca! I’m seeing someone else! Wake up!”

His jaw locked. I could see the veins jumping in his temples.

He looked like he might pass out from sheer rage. His knees pressed against the door, trapping me. His hands were still clamped over mine.

He wrapped around me like a snake.

That cold, unfeeling mouth of his couldn’t form an insult. Couldn’t form a plea.

All he could do was grind out: “You dare.”

My back was pressed against his chest. It was so hot it hurt. The pain shot down my spine, through my blood, into my bones.

My mind went blank. I couldn’t control my own breathing, let alone my thoughts.

The light was too bright. I couldn’t stop seeing his face—beautiful, cold, and close. So close I could feel every place our bodies locked together.

I was shaking.

I opened my mouth to say something harsh, something to push him over the edge.

But my voice betrayed me.

It came out soft. Broken. Like I was already crying.

“You don’t love me.”

I sucked in a breath. “Lorenzo, please. Just divorce me. You don’t love me—but someone else will.”

His breathing stopped.

His whole body locked up. His jaw flexed like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck.

Then, slowly, he found his footing again. Stood up straighter.

I reached for the door handle again.

He scooped me up like I weighed nothing.

“What are you doing?!” I thrashed.

Lorenzo didn’t even blink. He let me kick. He kissed me—hard—and when he walked, he deliberately stepped on the separation agreement.

“Divorce? Over my dead body.”

I was crying now, furious. “What gives you the right? You can’t just be unreasonable—”

He carried me to the bedroom.

“We’re married,” he said. “Which means we’re stuck with each other for life.”

So I poked the bear again. “I love him! I slept with him!”

The last shred of cover, ripped away.

But there was no explosion. No thunder.

He just took off his own clothes, slow and deliberate.

His lips were swollen from where I’d bitten him. It made his pale face look even sharper. Prettier.

His body was carved muscle. Perfect lines. Better than the gym selfie I’d sent.

He looked down at me. “So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

His face was blank. “You’re young. Curious about that kind of thing. It’s normal to want to play around.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

He looked at me as he took off the last layer.

My eyes dropped. Uncontrollably.

And suddenly I understood why he’d only laughed at those photos I sent.

He had every right to be smug.

He took my wrist, gently, and leaned down. I could smell him—all that man under the layers of expensive suits and endless work and cold words.

For the first time, I realized something obvious: Lorenzo De Luca was a man. All-consuming. Predatory.

“You—” My tongue wouldn’t work. I couldn’t form a single comeback.

Every sense I had was laser-focused on him.

He looked at me, calm as still water. “Vieve, you’re just hungry. Throwing a tantrum and running away from home over junk food—that’s what children do.”

He touched my forehead, gentle and commanding, tilting my face up.

Another long kiss.

I was suffocating.

Almost forgot why I’d started all this in the first place.