Mafia's African Rose

Alessio/Angel

A month without Angel was hell—a dark, endless torment. If this is what hell feels like, maybe it's time to ask God for forgiveness, if the man even exists. I'd lost my sanity in that month, killed more men than I had in the past 27 years combined. Every lead, every dead end only added fuel to the fire. How Viktor got to her so quickly still baffles me. That bastard. How dare he take her from me?

When I finally learned she was with Viktor, a wave of relief hit me, but it did nothing to dull my fury. The thought of her and him together burned in my mind, leaving me feeling betrayed. I'd called her a whore for being with him, words I regret now. She won't even look at me. And maybe she's right—maybe I don't know how to treat a woman. But her words, "like father like son," cut deeper than any wound. Is that really who I am?

"Angel..." I started, my voice softer than I intended, nearly pleading. The fact that she chose to come with me filled me with a twisted sense of relief, but the guilt weighed on me. She'd gotten kidnapped because of me—because I let her wander off, because I wasn't there.

"Please..." I began again, but she cut me off.

"I like my quiet," she said, her tone stubborn.

I nodded, swallowing back anything else I wanted to say. I drove in silence, my mind a storm of emotions. As soon as we pulled into the garage, she was out of the car, walking away with that determined stride. My gaze followed her, lingering longer than I intended, noticing the way her hips swayed and the bounce of ass. A flash of heat ran through me, my body reacting to her .

Every part of me screamed to reach out, to pull her close and show her what she meant to me. But I clenched my fists, forcing myself to give her time.

As we sat down to dinner, Angel wouldn't even look at me. She laughed, chatted with Alexa and her sister, completely ignoring my presence. Every glance she directed elsewhere was like a slow, simmering punishment, and my patience was wearing thin. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Everybody out!" I ordered, my voice firm. The others glanced at each other, but they knew better than to hesitate. One by one, they got up, gathering their things and filing out, leaving just the two of us. She started to stand as well.

"Not you," I said, my gaze locking onto her. For the first time since she'd been back, she looked me directly in the eyes, the intensity almost startling.

I took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Angel... I know I'm an asshole. But this silent treatment? It's killing me." I hesitated, searching her face. "I don't want to lose you."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe I don't want to talk to you, Alexio. You've twisted everything up there"—she tapped her temple—"and you're not good for my mental health. So please, just stay away from me."

I closed the space between us in a few steps, my heart pounding. She looked up at me with those eyes—those haunting eyes that had a grip on me tighter than any chain. Without thinking, I cupped her face and pressed my lips to hers, needing to feel her, to know she was still mine. The taste of her undid me instantly, her warmth pulling me under.

To my relief, she didn't push me away. Instead, she deepened the kiss, her arms snaking around my neck as she leaned into me. Her soft moans filled the room, and I lost myself in her, as if we were making up for all the time and distance that had come between us. Her body pressed to mine, our breaths mixing, it was as if we'd been starved for each other—two halves finally finding their way back.

I pulled away from the kiss, catching my breath. Angel looked up at me, her gaze questioning but warm.

"Angel," I murmured, "I do care about you. A lot. I'd be damned if I kept playing the big bad wolf with you."