THE GIANPIERO DYNASTY SERIES (BOOK I)
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A RISING STAR CROSSES PATHS WITH A MAFIA WARLORD AND BLURS THE LINES BETWEEN DESIRE AND LUST?
Makua Amadi had only one goal in sight from the moment she ventured into the music industry: thrive...
(don't forget to comment and vote on this chapter and share! follow me for more updates and click the link in my bio to join my Instagram readers group! Thank you for giving this book a chance! It means a lot!)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
• DAMIAN •
'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'
A wise saying that has been proven throughout the times till this very day. It was easy to forget sometimes that a factor even greater than a man's pride existed solely to contend; the sheer pressure of a severely sex-deprived woman.
True to my word, I set a boundary for lovemaking with the condition of being supplied with information so simple, that I was surprised she hadn't given in yet. Which made me all the more suspicious, cause if it was nothing, why would she subject herself — and my prideful self — to such?
I knew her ego was taking charge as well, but it didn't mean I liked the prospect of it. My mind was spiraling in different directions and it took all that I had in me to not string Mirko up and bleed the answers out. But alas, eunuch bodyguards weren't as common within the famiglia and Makua had warmed up to him.
Fucking impossible.
"I know I've said this for the umpteenth time, but it's really nice to meet you, up close, for the first time." Natasha, Makua's ever-bubbly best friend, mused.
It was Sunday and Makua mentioned going for brunch with her friends — the only ones I acknowledged — which was a tradition she kept up to twice a month. And for the first time, she'd asked me to come with.
She'd done that cute little pouty thing with her glossed lips and the workload waiting in my study didn't seem so urgent anymore.
So here we were seated in the urban-styled dining space of their apartment, opposite from the couple she was so fond of. My hand rested gingerly on her lap, idly fiddling with the light material of the yellow sundress she wore. Her hair was sleeked back in a bun with dangling hoop earrings that bounced and fluttered around as she moved her head. It was hard to keep my eyes on our hosts, or stop the stirring tension filling in my gut.
Realizing I'd been quiet, I smiled. "Same here. It's an honor meeting you two."
Natasha dipped to the side, turning to her husband. "I love the way he talks, he really said 'it's an honor'!" She clapped her hands, dramatically and from my side vision, I watched Makua facepalm herself. "One down."
I quirked a brow, "One down?"
Shino— her husband—leaned back in his seat, "Well, we have this list that," his fingers nudged towards Makua, who I turned to now, "our beloved Makkie here, created to evaluate our significant others."
