Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139

I made him breakfast. Fresh juice. A steaming cup of coffee. I even included his favourites, everything I knew how to prepare, everything quick but thoughtful.

I was proud of myself. I’d done it for him. Just for him. But to my surprise… he didn’t come downstairs.

Maybe he was too busy with work. Or maybe, he was doing everything he could to avoid the risk of meeting Leon. Either way, he stayed upstairs.

So I carried the tray myself and went up to him. I walked into the room and placed the tray in the centre of the bed. He looked up at me, and without a word, we both climbed onto the bed, knees facing each other, breakfast between us.

It felt like something out of a movie. Romantic. Soft. Unreal. Breakfast in bed.

I smiled through it, though deep down, something whispered, This isn’t good for me.

But around him, I could only smile.

We ate together, laughed a little, and exchanged looks longer than necessary. When it was over, I gathered the dishes and brought them downstairs. I washed them myself, something I didn’t need to do, but I needed the space. The moment. The quiet.

Asher was affecting my brain. My entire emotional compass. By the time I returned upstairs, he was pacing the room, phone pressed to his ear voice sharp and commanding.

“Find him… I don’t care what you have to do… I want him caught… I’m going to kill him.”

It was intense. I couldn’t piece the whole conversation together, but the fury in his voice was like thunder.

Then just like that, he hung up. He turned to me, calmer now, and said,

“Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, Call it a vacation. Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet. For a few days.”

I stared at him, confused, off balance, not quite following the road he was driving down. But I guess the look on my face said everything because he smiled.

“What?” I asked, defensively,

“Your face,” he said, now chuckling fully. “I just sked you to spend a few days with me, and you look like someone handed you a grenade.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because… I don’t know what you mean. Like… normal dates? Walks? In the open?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just you and me. Somewhere we can be ourselves. Free. I want to be able to be with you in the open….. not just locked in this room.”

Oh god. He was saying what I thought he was saying. He kept doing this, pushing past my walls, making me believe things I’d long told myself weren’t possible. Making me feel.

Suddenly, my eyes burned. I didn’t know why I was getting emotional. But I was.

He noticed.

“Okay… what’s going on?” he asked gently.

“What do you mean?” I replied quickly, trying to steady myself.

“You’re about to cry,” he said. “If you don’t want to go, just say so… It’s fine.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I want to. I really do. I just… I don’t think we should.”

“Why are you crying?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, trying to smile through it. “I don’t know, I just… I’ve always envisioned this moment. With you.”

His expression deepens, brow furrowing just a little. “Do you want to help me understand?”

“No… I want to tell you.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like. If I ever saw you again. If we ever got to be in the same space…. really be here, together.”

T’hesitate, then admit the part I’ve never said aloud. “For a while… I started hating you. Not just what you did, but you. It was easier that way. Safer.”

His eyes don’t shift. He’s listening. Not interrupting. Just being there.

“But now? This?” I say, glancing around the room-at us, at everything. “This is how I always imagined it would feel. Maybe not exactly like this-I didn’t picture it happening while I was locked up in a place I don’t understand, with no idea what’s happening out there…”

My voice trails off, shaky.

“But I always knew… it would feel like this.”

Something in him shifts. I can feel it in the way he breathes. In how close he moves to m without needing to say a word.

He pulls me in again, one hand sliding around my waist, the other tangling gently into the back of my hair.

Then he kisses me. Hard. Harder than the first time.

And I kiss him back, just as fiercely. There’s no hesitancy, no in-between. Only this connection between us. A meeting of mouths, of pain, of history. Everything unsaid.

And in that moment, it feels like maybe…. we still have a chance to rewrite everything.