Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 303

Chapter 303: Chapter 87 Was It Real

Gemma’s POV

The week dragged by like a death sentence. With some time away from Caleb’s legitimate front office, my workload had mounted dangerously, so I spent Saturday buried in paperwork, organizing financial records for the Thorne family’s various enterprises.

Strangely, I felt safer within those heavily guarded office walls than in my own apartment. Working weekends in a mafia-protected building felt more like sanctuary than burden.

Sunday arrived with me sleeping later than usual. After ordering delivery from one of the family’s affiliated restaurants, I found myself on the couch, tears streaming over a romantic film when my phone shattered the heroine’s heartbreak.

"Why do you sound like you’ve been crying your eyes out?" Zander’s voice carried that familiar concern, though I knew he’d just finished stitching up some unfortunate soul who’d crossed the wrong territory.

I sniffled, dabbing at my eyes. "Just this movie, Zander. The main character is going through hell."

His dark laugh rumbled through the speaker. "Time to put that tragedy away. Work some makeup magic and be ready soon. I’m picking you up."

"And where exactly are we going?" I asked, already reaching for the remote, knowing Zander’s invitations usually involved the kind of establishments where questions weren’t asked.

"Somewhere with strong drinks where we can discuss everyone else’s bloody messes," he replied with his characteristic brutal honesty.

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I can barely survive my own disaster. How am I supposed to handle others’?"

"That’s the beauty of it," Zander quipped. "When it’s someone else’s bullet wound, we can judge without bleeding." He disconnected before I could respond.

Later, we were seated at a corner table in downtown’s most exclusive underground tavern. The venue was impressive, vibrant atmosphere mixed with the subtle tension that came with knowing half the patrons carried concealed weapons. Live jazz floated over conversations conducted in hushed tones, and a mouthwatering spread of imported delicacies beckoned from the bar.

"You really know how to pick the dangerous spots," I said, taking in our surroundings where legitimate businessmen rubbed shoulders with made men.

Zander grinned, his medical bag discretely positioned beside his chair. "Show me someone who isn’t happy with premium alcohol and the finest everything blood money can buy. They say true happiness waits at the bottom of a very expensive glass."

I burst out laughing. "You’re literally a doctor who patches up gunshot wounds! You shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior."

"Darling, where would my lucrative off-books practice be without territorial disputes and family vendettas?" His eyes twinkled with dark mischief.

"That’s absolutely terrible!" I smacked his arm playfully.

"Live dangerously, regret tomorrow, Gemma. Tonight, we’re going all in."

Zander ordered a tower of imported beer and three shots of premium vodka each. We loaded our plates from the exclusive buffet, and when we returned, our drinks had materialized. Zander raised his first shot glass. "What are we toasting to?"

"In blood and bourbon, loyalty remains!" He declared, and we clinked glasses before downing the first shot. "Your turn."

I thought for a moment. "Friends who drink together, die together!" We knocked back the second shot, the liquid burning like family loyalty.

"Holy Margaret, full of grace, prepare your liver for this liquid embrace!" Zander proclaimed with the third shot, and we finished our initial round. From there, we dissolved into fits of laughter that lasted hours, the kind of release that only came when surrounded by armed protection.

Night had fallen by the time we decided to leave. Zander settled the substantial bill, and as we headed toward the heavily secured exit, my phone buzzed. The message from Dominic made my blood run cold:

"You forgot about me pretty quickly."

I scanned the tavern frantically. Was he here, watching from the shadows? I couldn’t spot him among the familiar faces of capos and soldiers. Pain quickly transformed into fury. He’d returned from his family business without contacting me, yet had that territory-climbing viper Beatrix draped all over him. Fueled by liquid courage and territorial rage, I fired back:

"Of course, only professional mourners cry over the dead!"

I shoved my phone into my purse just as Zander turned his attention back to me after signaling our armed escort. He immediately noticed my mood shift.

"What happened to your smile, beautiful?" he asked.

"God, you’re drunk. I feel sorry for whoever you have to stitch up tomorrow." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

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