Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 326

ARIELLA

I have always been scared when Asher came home late, especially when I came back here. Every night was torture, wondering if Asher was gonna come back or if he was gonna come back hurt, but that has never been so real, so potent as it is right now at this moment as I sit here in bed, lights off, by my own, wondering when he's gonna come back or if he's gonna come back at all.

It's 3 AM. I don't know if you can say '3 in the night' or '3 in the morning,' but it's 3. Asher hasn't been back and I haven't gotten a wink of sleep either.

By midnight, I couldn't take it anymore, and I had called him, but my phone hadn't been answered, so I called Luca instead, but he didn't pick up the call either.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

I am so scared.

I can't take it anymore.

I decided to go into Leon's bedroom and sit there with him. He has always made me feel much better before when I would see him, be close to him, it me feel so much better about any decision I had ever made. And so I decide to go into his bedroom.

I'm just closing our bedroom and walking towards his when I hear quiet footsteps coming upstairs.

It's so quiet. I stop and for a second, I think it's Asher, but then I tell myself it might not be him. Maybe whoever his enemy is has found a way inside the house and is coming for us.

But then the person gets towards the hallway...and it's really him. Asher. He looks tired, defeated, and sad, but when our eyes connect, you can feel the anger inside his eyes.

I quickly walk towards him, almost on autopilot, and pull him towards me, hugging him. Hard, harder than I have ever hugged him for good measure, telling myself this is real, that he's here, he's finally back with me and in my arms.

After a while, I have to let go, and when I look into his tired face, I can't stop myself from kissing him, spreading kisses all over his face, everywhere....his nose, his eyes, his hairline, his eyebrows, anywhere I can get myself to.

“That's enough,” he's saying.

He's not saying it in a way like I'm pestering him or making him mad, but like I have given him something, that he has found a way to force a smile into his face, and that makes me feel like not all is lost.

I put my hand into his and led him into the bedroom.

The moment we got in, I helped him take his clothes off slowly, carefully, like he might break if I moved too fast.

He didn’t say much, and that worried me. Usually, even when he was exhausted or angry, there was always something—some sharp remark, some reassurance, something.... But now there was only silence and the weight of whatever he had carried home with him.

I guided him into the bathroom next. The light felt too bright, too harsh for the moment, but neither of us complained. I turned on the shower and waited until the water warmed before helping him step inside.

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