The Mafia King's Unknown Doctor Wife novel Chapter 296

Or the Mafia King for that matter. This work of talking to not even dons but capos was below Luca's level, and it's not like Massimo had a shortage of his own capos that he could give these assignments to.

By the third day of the trip, Elena was sure Massimo had arranged all this just to personally teach her how to shoot.

She understood the secrecy. It would be bad if a mafia enemy found out the Mafia Queen was just learning the basics of how to handle a gun—a skill no mafia woman would admit to having but definitely practiced. It would make Elena even more of a target than she already was. And it's not like Massimo could fess up to this plan before they arrived—there may be no spies in the Ferraro estate currently, but you can never be too safe when it comes to mafia royalty.

No, what really bothered Elena was the fake Massimo had gone to such lengths and she still wasn't showing any progress. By the end of the third day, she could only sometimes hit the target and not with any level of consistency of area either—the bullet was as likely to end up in the human cut-out's arm as a leg. Her fourth day wasn't turning out much better.

With her third accidental leg shot in a row, Elena sighed. "This is beyond frustrating," Elena muttered. "I feel like nothing is helping at this point."

"You might be over-focusing," Massimo stated. "Why don't you think of something else?"

"Like what?" Elena tried another shot—this time it was a complete and total miss. She groaned in frustration.

"Your husband maybe," Massimo suggested. "Why don't you tell me how that last date went?"

Elena forgot to squeeze the trigger. "Badly," she said, readjusting her grip. "We got into an argument."

"How was it bad?" Massimo asked.

Elena lined up her shot and tried again. This time the bullet went too high, barely grazing the target's arm.

"Things got very... personal," Elena said, trying to keep things vague. Her boss didn't need to know that she let her boyfriend finger her until she climaxed and then she, in some blissed out stupor, decided asking her husband to run away with her would go well. "It seemed like we were on the same page for everything."

"But?" Massimo pressed.

"But we weren't," Elena admitted.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't a headshot—or a clean shot to the heart. But Elena had managed to hit the target's torso.

Elena cheered. "That's so much better!" she remarked.

"It is," Massimo said softly.

Maybe it was his closeness or how he had demanded she think of her husband, but Elena suddenly was reminded of Max by the way Massimo firmly held her shoulders. He even smelled a little bit like he did, too.

Elena was about to laugh it off when Massimo's hands brushed against hers again. As he adjusted her grip, his calloused fingers were impossible to ignore. The same callouses she recalled Max having.

Callouses that, judging by how her hands stung now, only came from years of handing guns.