Chapter 90

Readers requested it, and here it is! This book includes 40 sequel chapters—three for each of Gabriel and Sola's children. You're going to LOVE them. The overarching theme is dark romance, incorporating mafia elements, second-chance romance, and forced marriage. The content is 18+, so be aware if you're uncomfortable with mature themes.

I love you guys! Thanks for making this happen.

Alex & Mia’s Story

Synopsis:

Alex Whitlock has pursued destruction, violence, and power since childhood. Following in his Uncle Damien's footsteps at age twenty, he became a quiet ally of the Malia at twenty-six, serving as their vindictive strategist. Three things define him: 1) He fiercely protects his family. 2) He engaged a prominent politician's daughter to strengthen his Mafia position. 3) He believes love can only be platonic.

He loves his parents and siblings, but thinks he's incapable of loving anyone else. This belief shatters when he meets an ordinary girl who awakens something dark and obsessive within him. So, he does what any sane man would do in such a situation: he abducts her.

[Tropes: Mafia billionaire, obsession, enemies to lovers, jealousy, dark romance, adult fiction. Triggers: Contains smut and gore]

Prologue:

(Alex POV)

I stare at my mother's unanswered text for the fourth time. It appeared after our usual morning conversation. Sotu Whitlock is a know-it-all when it comes to her children, and despite her denials, she worries about me most. Her message leaves me with a nagging feeling; I debate whether to tell her the truth or not.

My name snaps me back to reality. I realize I'm in a meeting.

"Are you even listening, Alexander?" Nico asks, adjusting his glasses.

"It's Alex," I growl at the man. "And yes, I'm listening." I never zone out. I'm always observing, plotting, two steps ahead, even unintentionally. It's second nature.

"Let him be, Nic. He's just spaced out. It's allowed," Xander comments with an amused glare. Despite being closer to my age and attempting to understand my mind, Xander always fails.

Uncle Damien's cough draws our attention back to him. "Alex," he says, his voice hoarse. "We need to be at the hospital as soon as possible, by any means necessary. We can't have them throwing tantrums now."

I had plans that didn't involve renegotiating with a hospital after they refused to cover up why so many people died—not our fault—after getting drunk and attacking the Malia's patrolling guards.

"I can do it," Xander offers. "He's just gotten engaged. Let him have the weekend."

I give Imran a pointed glance. "No thanks." I'm needed—the Malia's deadliest and most conniving ally. If Xander handled it, it wouldn't work. And what's his fascination with Hanna, anyway? My niece is only four weeks old. I’ve met and spoken to her once. If this has any bearing beyond business, it would be a complication.

Damien ignores Xander, continuing the meeting for another frustrating hour. After Nico and Xander leave, I discuss a company I legally own, whose profits fund the Malia.

Exiting the bland restaurant, Chicago's cold breeze hits my face. I pause, taking a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" Dominic, my second-in-command, asks hesitantly. Before I can rebuke him, someone bumps into me.

Dom stiffens and draws his gun in two seconds. I have to show him my finger to stop him from shooting the girl who bumped into me. She seems oblivious, focusing on the boxes that fell from her hands. Without looking at me, she bends to pick them up as if they contained precious jewels.

I'm not used to being ignored, or bumped into. Maybe I'm off my game today; that would explain why I bend to help her. That's when I see her for the first time.

Long, dark hair framed her pale skin, and frown lines etched her otherwise soft features. She straightened the boxes.

"My cupcakes," she whispered, her voice sweet. I was struck by her voice until she looked up, and I noticed her grey, tear-filled eyes. Was she crying over cupcakes?

(Time stamp: 11:07 Tue, Jun 11)

She sniffed, her lip quivering. I wonder if she expects an apology. I don't offer one.

Something must be wrong with me today, because I reach into my coat pocket, removing my napkin and offering it to her. She stares at it as if it's poison, but takes it anyway, quickly gathering her boxes and practically fleeing, leaving only the scent of strawberries behind.