Relucatanaly Ruined & Owned By The Mafia Novel

The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew 13 Summary In Chapter 13 of "The Mask He Never Removed," the story opens with Dante waking to the sound of Lucia violently retching in the bathroom. As he observes her suffering, he feels a mix of annoyance and a flicker of concern, highlighting his conflicted emotions. Despite her condition, Dante's demeanor remains cold and dismissive, as he questions her about her illness and mocks her vulnerability. Lucia's defiance surfaces as she responds to his taunts, showcasing her spirit even in a moment of weakness.

As the chapter progresses, Dante's controlling nature becomes more evident. He forces Lucia to acknowledge him with respect, tightening his grip on her hair to assert his dominance. Lucia's struggle between pride and submission is palpable as she reluctantly complies with his demands. Their conversation reveals the emotional turmoil Lucia faces after witnessing violence at their wedding reception, and Dante's mocking comments only deepen her distress. This dynamic sets a tense tone, with Dante relishing in his power over her.

After a brief breakfast scene, where Lucia appears detached and mournful, Dante receives a distressing phone call about a human trafficking incident linked to his operation. This revelation sends him into a state of urgency, as he realizes the potential damage to his reputation. Despite Lucia's concern, he dismisses her fears and leaves her in the care of Paddy, a man known for instilling fear. The power dynamics shift as Lucia is left feeling vulnerable and trapped, highlighting the emotional stakes of her situation.

Dante's final interactions with Lucia reveal his possessive nature and the threat of infidelity he imposes. He makes it clear that he will not abstain from intimacy and that he expects her to comply with his desires. The chapter closes with a sense of foreboding as Lucia's emotions swirl between fear, anger, and defiance. Dante's departure leaves her in a precarious position, emphasizing the psychological control he exercises over her life. The tension between them is palpable, setting the stage for future confrontations and emotional struggles.

Continue Regular Chapter Reading Below **CHAPTER 13** **DANTE** I jolted awake to the unsettling sound of retching echoing through the bathroom. Lucia was on her knees, her small body wracked with violent heaves as she emptied her stomach into the toilet. Her nightgown clung to her damp skin, drenched in sweat, and her dark hair hung limply against her neck, framing her pale face. "Pathetic," I muttered under my breath, glancing at my watch. Six AM. It seemed she had caught my words, for I noticed her shoulders tense up, though she continued to be sick.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, observing her as her body convulsed with each wave of nausea. A small part of me-the part that had listened to her sobs throughout the night-felt a flicker of concern. But the larger part of me was simply annoyed. "Are you done making a spectacle of yourself?" I questioned, my tone laced with irritation, as the retching finally subsided. She offered no reply, merely flushed the toilet and crawled to the sink, using it to hoist herself upright. Her reflection in the mirror was ghastly; she was a pale green, her eyes sunken and rimmed with red.

She looked like a ghost. "I asked you a question." Her response was a soft, defiant whisper. "Go to hell." She turned on the faucet with trembling hands, splashing cold water onto her face. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Apparently, terror hadn't completely extinguished her spirit. "Excuse me?" "I said go to hell." She continued to splash water, still avoiding my gaze. "I'm sick, not deaf." In two strides, I was across the bathroom, my hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back until she was forced to meet my eyes in the mirror.

She gasped, her hands flying to mine, desperately trying to pry my fingers loose. "Let me make something abundantly clear, little rabbit. You will address me with respect, or you won't speak at all." I tightened my grip, relishing the way she winced. "Are we understood?" "Yes," she hissed through gritted teeth, her pride battling against her pain. "Yes, what?" Her jaw was a whirlwind of emotions, struggling between defiance and submission. "Yes... sir." "Better." I released her hair and took a step back, allowing her to regain her composure. "Now, what's wrong with you? Food poisoning?

A hangover? Or are you simply repulsed by your new husband?" She turned away from the mirror, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to shield her vulnerability. "I don't know, but I think it's the third. I've been sick since the wedding reception." "Since you watched me kill four men?" Her face went even paler at my words. "Maybe. I don't know. Everything's been..." She gestured helplessly, her hands flailing in frustration. "Overwhelming?" I supplied mockingly, relishing the opportunity to belittle her.

"Poor little princess can't handle a dose of reality?" "It wasn't reality," she snapped, a spark of fire igniting in her eyes. "My wedding reception was a slaughter." "It was Tuesday," I reminded her, stepping closer, backing her against the vanity. "And if you think that was bad, just wait until you see what I do to people who actually cross me." She shuddered, but I caught a flicker of something else in her expression-was it anticipation? Interesting. "Finish up and join me for breakfast." I turned on my heel and walked out before she could voice any objections.

I showered and dressed in the guest room, the water washing away the remnants of sleep and irritation. By the time I was dressed and made my way to the dining room, the staff had prepared an extravagant breakfast spread for us. Since I wasn't sure what my wife preferred, I had instructed them to make everything edible. Silver domes covered fresh fruit, eggs, crispy bacon, and smoked salmon-enough food to feed an army. Lucia appeared ten minutes later, clad in a simple black dress that made her look as if she were in mourning.

She said nothing to me or anyone else, even when the maid cheerfully set breakfast in front of her with a warm "Good morning, Mrs. Cummiskey." At the sound of that title, Lucia flinched visibly. "You need to eat," I said, cutting into my steak with a deliberate scrape of the knife against the plate. She tensed at the sound, but still offered no response. "Lucia." Her fork hovered mid-push, but she refused to look up. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you." Slowly, reluctantly, her now red-rimmed eyes lifted to meet mine. They were hollow, devoid of the spark I had once seen.

It felt as though I had carved something essential out of her during the night. Perfect. An empty vessel was easier to fill with my desires. "Eat," I commanded again. "I won't have my wife collapsing from hunger." She took a small bite of eggs, chewing mechanically, swallowing as if she were choking down poison. I shook my head in disapproval. "I'll have the doctor come over and check on you today." "There'll be no need for that. I'm perfectly fine," she protested, her voice wavering. Before I could delve deeper into that conversation, my phone rang, the name Cian flashing on the screen.

"What?" I answered curtly, irritation creeping into my voice. "Little problem you need to look into. The Russian shipment that came in last night? It wasn't our merchandise." I froze, my heart racing. "What was it?" "Girls. Young ones. Packed in shipping containers like fucking cargo." His voice was tight, barely containing his rage. "They're half-dead, Dante. Dehydrated, beaten to hell. Some of them can't be more than fourteen." A chill ran through my veins. I had made it abundantly clear from day one that we didn't engage in human trafficking. Money, guns, protection-those were fine.

But women and children were strictly off-limits. "Who authorized this?" "That's the thing. Nobody did. The paperwork was forged, made to look like it came from you. Someone's trying to frame us, or they're using our operation as cover." "How many?" "Twenty-three girls. All Eastern European. And... they've got your brand on the shipping manifest." Damn it. Someone was toying with my reputation. "Get them medical attention. Food, water, clean clothes. And find out who's behind this.

I suspect my newly acquired father-in-law and Fabrizio's boys, but we can't act on suspicions alone." "Already on it. If word gets out that Cummiskey cargo containers are full of trafficked kids..." "I know." The implications would shatter everything I had built. "I'm on my way." I hung up, turning to find Lucia watching me with wide, frightened eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling. "Nothing that concerns you." I grabbed my shirt from the chair, my mind racing. "I have to leave for a few hours." "Can I...

can I go and stay with Nonna Rosa?" I paused, my fingers halting mid-button. "Why?" "I don't want to be alone in this place." "You won't be alone." I smiled coldly, relishing the power I held. "You'll have company." Right on cue, a knock echoed at the bedroom door. "Come in," I called, my voice steady. The door swung open to reveal Paddy O'Connell, and I had to suppress a smile at Lucia's sharp intake of breath. She remembered him well. Hard to forget a man you'd tried to brain with a crowbar.

Paddy was a mountain of a man-six-foot-four, broad as a barn door, with scarred knuckles and cold blue eyes that could freeze anyone in their tracks. He'd been with my organization for fifteen years, and he had a particular talent for instilling fear. "Boss," he nodded at me, then let his gaze slide to Lucia. "Mrs. Cummiskey." The way he pronounced her name dripped with condescension, like an insult veiled in politeness. "Paddy's going to be keeping you company while I'm gone," I announced cheerfully, enjoying the discomfort in her expression.

"Make sure you don't get into any trouble." "I don't need a babysitter," Lucia protested, but her voice quivered with uncertainty. "Oh? I could have sworn you needed a keeper," I corrected, a smirk playing on my lips. "Someone to ensure you don't do anything foolish like running away from me. Again." Paddy grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, princess. We'll have fun this time." "I remember you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You do?" Paddy asked, feigning innocence. "Paddy holds grudges," I interjected casually, pulling on my jacket.

"Especially against people who attack him with gardening tools." "It was self-defense," Lucia protested, her cheeks flushing with indignation. "Was it?" I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "Seemed more like attempted murder to me, but I'll let the victim decide." I didn't miss the way her knees nearly buckled at the thought. She probably assumed I would let Paddy hurt her or worse. But that was far from the truth. In time, she'd learn that no one was allowed to take, chase, or harm my little rabbit except me.

If anything, Paddy was still nursing the humiliation of being knocked out by a slip of a girl. A man like him would sooner eat glass than admit that to anyone. But word had spread among my men that my wife had put him out cold. I checked my watch, urgency creeping in. "I need to go. Paddy, make sure my wife stays put. And stays... entertained." "What does that mean?" Lucia's voice rose, panic evident. "It means you won't have the liberty of reaching for a crowbar this time, Miss." Paddy said pleasantly, his grin widening.

"Don't break her jaw," I told him lazily, enjoying the way her eyes widened in fear. "Just keep her on a leash until I return." Paddy's grin widened further. "Leash? With pleasure." Lucia's eyes darted between us, panic rising like a tidal wave. "You can't leave me with him." "I could have sworn you hated my company." I leaned down, brushing my lips over her ear, savoring the shiver that ran through her. "Unless, of course, you'd rather keep me entertained yourself." Her breath caught in her throat. "Absolutely not." "Of course.

Let's save the best for later tonight." "Nothing will be happening between us later tonight," she hissed heatedly, her cheeks flushed with anger. "One thing," I straightened, my tone turning serious. "I'm not abstaining now that I'm married, Lucia. If you don't open those thighs for me tonight, I'll find someone who will. And I promise, I won't be discreet about it." Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she held my gaze defiantly. "I don't care." The smirk curled across my mouth before I could stop it. "Oh, but you do. Women always care, rabbit.

And nothing makes a woman scream louder than knowing her husband is fucking someone else." I patted her cheek lightly, relishing the mix of emotions playing across her face, before turning to Paddy. "She's yours until I get back. Be strict." "Yes, boss." I left the room, whistling an old Irish tune, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. Conclusion In the aftermath of the chaos, Lucia found herself grappling with the duality of her existence-caught between the remnants of her former life and the oppressive reality of her new one.

The confrontation in the bathroom had stripped her of any lingering illusions about her circumstances, revealing the stark truth of her situation: she was trapped in a world governed by fear and violence, her spirit battered yet unwilling to yield completely. As she sat at the breakfast table, her heart heavy with dread, she recognized the fragility of her own power, feeling like a ghost in her own life. The weight of her new title, "Mrs. Cummiskey," echoed ominously in her mind, a constant reminder of the chains that bound her to a man who thrived on control and intimidation.

Dante, oblivious to the internal struggle raging within her, reveled in the power he wielded over her. His casual cruelty masked a deeper insecurity, a fear of losing the control he so desperately clung to. Yet, in his need to dominate, he underestimated the resilience that flickered within Lucia. As he left her in the care of Paddy, a man who embodied the very threat she loathed, she felt a surge of defiance rise within her-a flicker of hope that perhaps she could reclaim her voice amidst the chaos.

Will she be able to stand her ground against Dante's increasingly menacing demeanor, or will the weight of her circumstances force her to yield to his demands? Moreover, the introduction of Paddy as her reluctant guardian adds an intriguing layer to the narrative. His presence promises both danger and dark humor, as he navigates the complexities of his role while keeping Lucia in check. Will he become an unexpected ally, or will his past with Lucia complicate their interactions?

As tensions rise and secrets unfold, readers will be left on the edge of their seats, eager to discover how Lucia will confront her new reality and what choices she will make when faced with the darkness surrounding her. Prepare for a chapter filled with suspense, emotional turmoil, and unexpected revelations that will leave readers questioning allegiances and the true nature of power.