Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179: I Don’t Understand This

"I don’t understand this..." she admitted.

"You will," Luca replied. "You’ll learn. You have to." He shifted slightly, ignoring the protest of his body. "Marco will get you back to the hospital." 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"No... no..."

"Bambola...You’re recovering from a gunshot wound. You need to be in the hospital. I would suggest using my clinic in the main building, but I want you far away from my father. He has made it his mission to test your resilience."

Luca leaned closer. "And I’d rather you didn’t break," he murmured.

Because if she did... he wasn’t entirely sure what would be left of him either.

"I hate him. I’m sorry. I do. I hate him."

Luciano reached out, brushing her hair from her face. "I know," he said quietly. "You will learn to love him. Vee... he is a Don. He cannot afford to show weakness, not even to his own kids."

Veronica shook her head, her lips trembling. "I don’t want to love him. I can’t."

Luca’s lips curved into a slow smile. "Fine. I’ll love him for you," he said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her body shivered under his touch.

"I got you a house," he murmured against her temple. "In your name. You’ll move in there as soon as you feel better. It’s much bigger than this annex. More space. More...freedom."

"Right... a kept woman," she muttered, bitterness dripping from each word.

"Hey!" Luca snapped. "Don’t... don’t ever cheapen what we have, Bambola. Ever!" His hand pressed lightly against her cheek.

"Marry me instead, Luca. Why not just marry me? Would this end if you married me?"

He exhaled sharply, a breath laden with unspoken regrets. "I would... God, I wish I could." His hand tightened slightly around hers. "But it’s...good to know that if I proposed, you would say yes."

Her reaction was a smack to his chest. He winced in pain.

"Shit!" Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her features. "I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I..."

"I know," he murmured, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on his chest. "I know, Bambola. You’re allowed to hit me. You’re allowed to yell. You’re allowed to hate me. But don’t you dare...ever doubt that I will always be just yours. Always."

"I...Luca..."

To shut her up, he lifted her chin, tilting her face to his. Their lips met, tongues tangling, lips pressing. God, he’d missed this—her warmth pressed against him, her body soft and pliant, her surrender. In his arms, in his bed, she belonged entirely to him, and he to her, in a dangerous, irrevocable way that no one else could touch.

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