Chasing His Betrayed Ex-wife

Never letting go part 2

"I've told you repeatedly, I am not your wife! My parents are alive, and they were at the Clarissary yesterday.

"Let me return to my family, you sick man!" I shouted in fury, tears streaming down my face. He looked at me with a blank expression, but I could see the shock in his eyes.

Then I noticed the relief and smirk on Ivan's face, which only deepened my suspicion.

I wasn't naive; I knew something was off, and I was determined to uncover the truth.

"Take her back inside and lock her in her room," Dominic commanded, turning his back to me. In that moment, I heard the gunfire, and I screamed as I was dragged back into the mansion.

All I could hear were the gunshots echoing throughout the house. Without a word, I was taken to my room and thrown inside. I pounded on the door, yelling, but deep down, I knew no help was coming.

Confusion clouded my mind; nothing made sense.

Who were these people? I had always suspected Ivan was involved with a mob, but showing up here less than forty-two hours after our wedding felt excessive.

I had met Ivan while working as a waitress at his club. He was captivated by me and quickly promoted me to manager. Within a month, he proposed, and my parents were thrilled to see me marrying a billionaire mob boss, as it elevated our social status. I was content with that.

I didn't love Ivan, but I desired him. Yet, something felt off. I had been in a car accident last year, resulting in major surgery on my head. The only memories I retained were of my parents, and no one else.

Deep within me, I had always sensed that something was off from the very beginning, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Life has become even more complicated now. As I was lost in my thoughts, the door swung open, and Dominic walked in.

He had removed his suit jacket, leaving him in a white shirt stained with his blood. I couldn't help but stare as he met my gaze with his dark eyes.

He moved closer to me, and I watched him intently. He didn't appear to be in pain, but the blood on his shirt told a different story. Part of me wondered if I should have wished he had perished in the gunfight, freeing me to go home.

"I know what you're thinking," he said with a smirk, and I shot him a glare.

"What would that be?" I snapped back, my tone sharper than intended, but he just smiled as he stepped nearer.

"Oh, I miss you. You always knew how to get to me with that innocent look of yours," he teased, reaching out to hold my face gently.

"You have blood on your shirt," I pointed out, fully aware he knew, but I hoped to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

"I know you feel something, deep down inside. You can sense that something isn't right when you see me," he teased again, a smirk playing on his lips. I tried to mask my shock, but it was futile.

He was correct, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had unsettled me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I interrupted, attempting to walk away, but he grasped my face gently.

"I adore everything about you—your scent, your lips, your body. It drives me wild and ignites a fierce longing within me. I want you, Clarissa, more than anything else." He whispered, and I stared at him in disbelief; surely he couldn't mean it. Yet, his words stirred something deep within me, something I knew I shouldn't feel.

"I don't feel anything, just let me go," I replied, but he only smirked in response. Without another word, he pressed his lips against mine.