Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 59

Davina's POV:

The lingering heat from our intense exchange in the living room had not dissipated. It was a tangible thing, a promise and a threat hanging between us. Ezra’s gaze was dark and intense. When Ezra’s low, commanding voice broke that silence—"My office. Now."—I knew the conversation wasn't over. I follow him into the deeper recesses of the penthouse, I obeyed without question. He led me directly to his office, a deliberate choice of location—a place of power and final decisions.

He closed the heavy mahogany doors, sealing us in. The room was dark save for the lights of the city reflected in the large window, illuminating his intent. He walked around his desk, leaning against the rich wood with a posture that was both relaxed and utterly dominant.

I walked directly toward him, stopping when I felt the powerful orbit of his presence, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He didn't waste time. "I told you, I ended the engagement with Tatiana Sokolov." He said the full name, the weight of the sacrifice heavy in the air. "It wasn't a clean break. There will be consequences. Political, financial. They will try to find a weakness."

His hand came up, gently cupping my chin. His eyes, serious and intense, held a depth of sincerity I hadn't seen before. "I am a man who deals in darkness, Davina. You know this. I've done things that I regret, things you have every right to despise." He paused, his gaze dropping to my lips. "But I never intended for you to see that side of me. I never intended for you to be touched by that filth."

The admission—raw, unexpected, and utterly sincere—pierced through the hard shell I had built around my heart.

He moved closer, his breath warm on my ear. "You came back to me. I know the risk you took. I promise you this: I will protect you. I will keep you out of my world, even as you stand by my side. I will build the walls higher. Just give us one more chance."

His words were a direct challenge to the fear that still clung to me. He was offering a terrifying, yet thrilling, covenant.

I looked up at him, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. The conflict was too great, the love too strong. The time for denial was over.

"It's wrong," I whispered, the confession tearing free from my chest. "Everything about this is wrong. You're dangerous, you're a monster, you..." I trailed off, unable to complete the damning list. "But I haven't been able to think about anything but you. And it terrifies me, because I fell in love with you, Ezra."

The air left the room. My own ears rang with the finality of the words. I saw a powerful emotion—triumph, relief, and something dangerously close to vulnerability—flash in his eyes.

He didn't speak. He simply closed the final inch between us, his mouth crashing down on mine with a brutal, undeniable tenderness that conveyed everything. It was a kiss of shared madness, of absolute possession, and mutual, desperate need.

My hands flew up, catching his hair at the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor that matched his. The surrender was complete.

Ezra broke the kiss, his eyes blazing, his breath ragged. He didn't ask again. He simply scooped me up, lifting me into his arms with a powerful grace that stole my breath. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, my head resting on his shoulder.

He carried me out of the office, down the long corridor, and into his bedroom—a vast, dark space dominated by a massive bed. The city lights streamed through the window, illuminating his intent.

**********************************************

Ezra's POV

I didn't hear her confession; I felt it—a seismic shock that momentarily destabilized the carefully constructed world of ice and steel I inhabited. "I fell in love with you, Ezra." The words weren't a plea or a weakness; they were a declaration of war against logic, a surrender that felt like the greatest victory of my life.

The raw triumph was immediately superseded by an explosive, desperate need. I didn't speak. My mouth claimed hers with a force that brooked no refusal, a kiss that was both thanks and seizure, pouring weeks of agonizing denial and simmering possessiveness into her response.

When she gasped for air and clung to me, I knew the debate was over. She was mine.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify