Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 53

Davina's POV

The sting on my palm lingered, a sharp echo of the slap I’d given Ezra. My heart hammered, not from exertion, but from the raw, volatile storm raging inside me. I’d run from his office, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me, sealing in the acrid scent of his rage, the taste of his desperate, bruising kiss. Every nerve ending screamed, run, get out, never look back. But where? The club was a labyrinth, a cage he owned.

I found myself stumbling back to the dressing room, the stale air thick with cheap perfume and unfulfilled dreams. I yanked the door shut, leaning against it, my chest heaving. The mirror reflected a stranger: wild eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, hair disheveled. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the girl who just wanted to pay off a debt.

"Criminal," I whispered the word again, the sound raw. The humiliation burned hotter than the sting on my cheek. He’d used me, twisted my trust, turned my most intimate moments into a transactional horror. He’d forced me onto that stage, reduced me to a commodity. And then, he’d kissed me. That unexpected, possessive kiss, even in its fury, had momentarily quieted the storm, a dangerous warmth that had betrayed my own resolve. Why did I still feel that inexplicable pull towards him, that agonizing craving in the pit of my stomach, even after everything? It was repulsive, a perverse betrayal of my own pain. He was a monster, and yet... part of me still ached for the man I’d foolishly believed him to be.

My hand dove into my bag, searching for something, anything, to ground me. My fingers closed around something hard and metallic. Not my phone, not my wallet. It was a set of keys. Ezra’s keys. The ones he’d given me to his penthouse, a symbol of a false intimacy, a cruel lie. They felt heavy, cold, a physical manifestation of the bind I was in.

But then, a perverse thought sparked. The craving, the confusion, the burning need for answers – it coalesced into a reckless decision. I couldn't just run. Not yet. Not while my mind was a tangled mess of hatred and this insidious, lingering desire. If he was a monster, I needed to see the true extent of his darkness. I needed to know.

Clutching the keys, I pushed off the door. The club outside was a blur of neon and thumping bass. I moved through the crowds, driven by a desperate compulsion, my eyes scanning, searching. And then I saw him.

Ezra.

He was striding across the main floor, away from his office, his back ramrod straight, his broad shoulders radiating an aura of barely contained violence. His profile was sharp, etched with a cold fury that made the earlier confrontation seem almost gentle. He was heading towards a section of the club I rarely saw, a discreet door marked 'Staff Only' that led to the lower levels. He didn't look back. He didn't see me.

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