Modravé De Costa Lopez is the name haunts the underground world, and the name that is engraved into the illegal system like a tattoo on an idiotic teenager. He runs one of the most powerful Mafia organisations known to man and is so powerful, he cou...
Hello everybody! 💕 As some of you might know, this book is 1/5 of a series. The second edition is already up called 'VINDICTIVE', however, I have already begun to set up the third edition to the series called 'The Italian Right'. All details will be posted on the next chapter and I'm very proud of what it could, and is able to, become.
I haven't been very well these past few weeks, all that mental health stuff 🙇🏽♀️ but I'm very thankful for all the comments I receive and positive feedback for the work I have been producing - it means a lot.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, Modravé and Cove will be reunited soon!!! 🤗
Bye🥀
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
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"Cove? Cove? Wake up!"
Who is that?
A hand shakes against Cove's shoulder as he begins to finally succumb to the mans insistent calls to awake from his deep slumber.
His eyesight is blurry when he finally finds the courage to open them up, but he can make out the figure of Valentino leaning over him almost immediately.
"Finally", Valentino sighs with a laugh, "you're up! Did you have a good sleep?"
Cove is about to reply that he had an amazing sleep, but then blushes when he realises the reason why. "Yeah," He reply's with a short smile, "I guess I just ... released a lot of tension".
Valentino grins happily. "That's great, Cove. Well, the chefs have prepared a great breakfast downstairs for us. Maybe we could have a little chat about things, see how your feeling?"
Cove leans up from the bed and smiles with a nod. "Sounds great, thanks Valentino".
The elder man smiles with a short nod before swiftly leaving the room.
A small tinge of guilt finds itself within Cove's chest. Valentino is so sweet to him, so different to Modravé ... he wishes Modravé treated him like Valentino.
Cove swings his feet over the edge of the bed, only the very tips of his toes were granted shocks from the freezing wooden oak floorboards before his whole foot had the sharp indifference from the warm sheltering of the duvets, to then the crisp, i-accidentally-left-the-windows-open-all-night, floorboards.
He trotted solemnly into the en-suite bathroom.
bedroom:
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