Relucatanaly Ruined & Owned By The Mafia Novel

The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew 3 Summary In Chapter 3 of "The Mask He Never Removed" by Ariana Drew, the protagonist, Dante, finds himself captivated by Lucia, a woman who embodies both innocence and defiance. Their intimate moment is interrupted by an unexpected crisis when Dante's brother, Cian, arrives in a state of distress, revealing that three of Dante's trusted lieutenants have been murdered. The urgency of the situation escalates when Cian informs Dante that the Italians have arrived in Dublin, demanding an immediate meeting.

This shocking news signifies that a betrayal has occurred within their ranks, plunging Dante into a state of alarm and determination. As the tension mounts, Dante instructs Lucia to stay hidden and quiet while he prepares to confront the impending danger. The chapter explores the emotional complexity of Dante's relationship with Lucia, as her genuine concern for his well-being contrasts sharply with the harsh realities of his violent world. Despite his hardened exterior, Dante is momentarily touched by her empathy, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability beneath his tough facade.

Lucia's innocence becomes a liability in the chaotic environment, heightening the stakes for both characters. The chapter culminates with Dante and Cian descending to meet Marco Moretti, the Italian leader, in a tense atmosphere that foreshadows potential conflict. As Dante dons a mask of calm confidence, the reader senses the precariousness of his situation, knowing that the meeting could lead to dire consequences. The narrative captures the blend of passion and peril that defines Dante's life, leaving readers on edge as they anticipate the fallout from the brewing storm.

Continue Regular Chapter Reading Below **The Mask He Never Removed by Ariana Drew** **CHAPTER 3** **DANTE** She was a beautiful enigma, a walking contradiction draped in seductive black lace. There she stood, framed against the backdrop of my expansive windows, an ethereal figure that resembled a fallen angel-innocence trembling in her demeanor, yet a flicker of defiance sparking in her eyes. The way she had practically pleaded for me to lead her down a path of ruin was intoxicating, and believe me, I was more than eager to oblige.

Yet, as I watched her now, that pulse racing in her delicate throat, her eyes wide with a mix of desire and fear, I found myself wanting to savor every moment of her descent into darkness. Too bad fate had other plans in store for us. "You're lost in thought again," I murmured, allowing my fingers to glide teasingly along the edge of her lace panties. The tiny gasp that escaped her lips shot straight to my groin, igniting a fire within me. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?" "I can't help it," she replied, her voice breathless and utterly sincere.

Most women who found themselves in my bed were adept at putting on a show, knowing precisely which sounds to make and when to make them. But Lucia was different. She was raw. She was real. And, God, she was dangerous. "What's swirling around in that pretty little head of yours?" She turned slightly, her gaze meeting mine in the reflection of the glass, and the honesty in her expression nearly unraveled me.

"I'm thinking about what you're going to do to me." "And what else?" "It feels too good." The words tumbled out like a confession, and I could feel my grip on control slip another agonizing notch. "Even the parts that scare me." Jesus. When was the last time a woman had admitted to being frightened of me while simultaneously pleading for more? When was the last time I'd actually cared about what a woman thought while I was lost in the throes of passion? My fingers found her clit, coaxing another sweet, melodic moan from those perfect lips. "You should be scared, love.

I'm not exactly known for being gentle with my toys." "I don't want gentle." As she pressed back against me, the trust inherent in that simple action tightened my chest. "I want-" But before she could finish, the sound of my private elevator chiming to life sent a jolt of fear through her, her eyes widening in alarm. I halted, instinctively stepping back. Only three people had access to that elevator. My housekeeper, Mrs. O'Brien, was off visiting her grandchildren in Cork. My driver, Tommy, was outside, with strict orders to remain put until summoned.

And my second-in-command, who knew better than to interrupt me unless the world itself was on fire. "Shit." I stepped away from Lucia, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun I kept nearby. "Get dressed. Now." "What?" Her confusion and hurt flickered across her flushed features, making my heart clench. "What's wrong?" The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Cian O'Sullivan's voice cut through the air of my penthouse like a gunshot in a quiet cathedral. "Dante!

Where the hell are you, brother?" Cian and I had shared a bond since we were fifteen, hustling numbers in the gritty streets of Ballymun. We had fought through three wars and countless skirmishes with him always at my side. I had heard him express anger, desperation, and even fear. But I had never heard him sound like this. Like the world was crumbling around us. "Stay here," I commanded Lucia, snatching a silk robe and tossing it to her. "Don't make a sound." I barely had time to fasten my shirt before Cian stormed into my bedroom.

His usual pristine appearance was in tatters-blood splattered across his white shirt, his knuckles split and raw, and his meticulously styled hair disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration. When his eyes landed on Lucia, cowering behind me in nothing but silk, he halted abruptly. "Jesus Christ, Dante. Tonight? Really fucking tonight?" "This better be life or death, brother." My voice came out as a deadly whisper. "Because if it's not, I'll make you wish you hadn't come." "It is." Cian's gaze darted back to Lucia, then returned to me.

"Fintan, Ronan, and Callum are dead." The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs. Three of my most trusted lieutenants-men I had known since we were kids, scrambling to survive in the gutters of Dublin. Gone. "How?" The question slipped out, barely a whisper. "Single shots to the back of the head, execution style. Found them an hour ago in the warehouse on the southside." Cian's jaw was clenched tight, his fury barely contained. "But that's not the worst part, brother." Of course it fucking wasn't. "The Italians are here. In Dublin.

Right fucking now." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in. "They're waiting downstairs in your lobby with enough firepower for a small war, demanding an immediate meeting with you. Marco himself flew in with his sons and half his crew." My blood ran cold. The Italians weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow morning. Their early arrival, coupled with the murders of my men, could mean only one thing. Someone had betrayed us. "How long have they been waiting?" I asked, my mind racing through a thousand ways to turn this disaster to my advantage. "Twenty minutes.

I've been stalling them with offers of food and drink, but they're getting restless. Marco keeps glancing at his watch like he's on some kind of schedule." Cian's voice dropped lower, a note of urgency creeping in. "Dante, they know something we don't. This has 'we're utterly fucked' written all over it." I glanced back at Lucia, who was absorbing every word with those wide, terrified eyes. She had already seen too much, heard too much. In the span of an hour, she had transformed from a delightful distraction into a massive liability. "Give me two minutes," I instructed Cian.

He nodded and swiftly retreated into the main living area, leaving me alone with the girl who had just complicated my life in ways I couldn't even begin to fathom. "I have to go handle this," I said, turning to face her completely. The fear etched on her face twisted something deep within me. "And you need to stay exactly where you are until I return." "What's happening?" Her voice was small, almost childlike. It reminded me uncomfortably of her innocence, despite her bold ambitions for corruption. "Business, love.

Nothing for you to worry about." I moved to my dresser, retrieving a fresh shirt and my shoulder holster. The familiar weight of my Sig Sauer was oddly reassuring. "It'll be handled." "Those men who died..." She clutched the robe tighter around her body, vulnerability radiating off her. "Did you know them well?" The question caught me off guard. Most people in my world learned early on that discussing casualties was taboo. Death was merely another cost of doing business, another line item in the ledger of violence that kept our world spinning.

"They were good men," I replied finally, checking the clip and chambering a round. "They didn't deserve what happened to them." "I'm sorry." Two simple words, yet the genuine sympathy in her voice made me pause. When was the last time anyone had cared about my losses without wanting something in return? "Dante!" Cian's voice echoed with urgency. "They're getting antsy out here!" "I have to go," I reiterated, holstering my weapon and shrugging into my jacket. "The penthouse security system will engage automatically when I leave. Don't open the door for anyone, understand?

Don't even fucking answer if someone knocks." "How long will you be gone?" "I don't know." I hesitated at the bedroom doorway, taking in her image one last time. Small and vulnerable in that oversized robe, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk. "Could be an hour. Could be all night. Depends on what the bastards want." "What if you don't come back?" Her question was astute. Because the truth was, I might not return. The Italians didn't fly halfway across Europe for a casual chat, and the timing of those murders was far from coincidental.

"I'll come back," I assured her, though we both understood it wasn't a promise I could guarantee. "Just... stay put. Stay quiet. And don't trust anyone who comes to that door, even if they claim to be helping you." Her eyes widened at my last words, and I realized I had revealed more than I intended. But there was no time to elaborate, no time to reassure her that she was likely safe here. "Probably safe" wasn't good enough, but it was all I could offer. "Dante." She took a step toward me, and I had to fight the urge to reach for her. "Can't I just-" "Leave?" I finished for her, my tone firm.

"Unless it's in a body bag, no." I left her standing there in my bedroom, looking like a fairy tale princess trapped in a tower, and followed Cian toward what was almost certainly going to be the fight of my life. The elevator ride down felt like descending into the very depths of hell. Through the glass walls, I could see Marco Moretti and his entourage waiting in my building's reception area. The old bastard was exactly as I remembered him-silver-haired, impeccably dressed, exuding the kind of quiet menace that comes from decades of bloodshed and betrayal.

"What do we know?" I asked Cian quietly, trying to keep my composure. "Nothing good. They arrived with enough hardware to level half of Temple Bar, but they're not acting like they're here to start a war. More like..." He paused, weighing his words carefully. "More like they're here to collect on a debt." "What debt? The alliance terms were hammered out months ago. Everything was agreed upon." "That's what I'd like to fucking know." The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and I stepped into the lobby, donning my best mask of casual confidence.

In my world, showing weakness-even for a fleeting moment-was a death sentence. "Marco," I called out, extending my hand in greeting. "You're early. The ceremony isn't until tomorrow." The old man scrutinized my outstretched hand for what felt like an eternity before finally accepting it. His grip was firm, his smile sharp as a freshly honed blade. "Plans change, Mr. Cummiskey," he replied in heavily accented English. "Recent developments require immediate discussion." Recent developments. The murders, undoubtedly. But what else? "Of course.

My office upstairs has-" "Not here." His dark eyes scanned the lobby, assessing exits and sight lines with meticulous precision. "Somewhere more... private. Somewhere we can discuss family business without prying ears." Family business. Christ, I didn't like the sound of that. "There's a conference room on the fifteenth floor," I suggested. "Completely secure." "Perfetto." Marco gestured to his sons, and the entire group moved toward the elevators like a pack of well-dressed wolves. A sense of dread washed over me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was stepping into a trap.

Conclusion As the heavy weight of impending confrontation loomed over Dante, the emotional stakes had never been higher. Lucia, once a mere distraction, had transformed into a symbol of everything he risked losing. The innocence she radiated clashed with the violent world he inhabited, making her presence both a comfort and a curse. The moment he stepped away from her, leaving her vulnerable and alone, he felt the sting of potential loss echoing in the recesses of his heart.

The urgency of the situation forced him to confront the reality of his life-a life filled with betrayal, danger, and now, the haunting possibility of never returning to her. In that fleeting moment, he realized that the mask he wore to shield himself from emotional entanglements was slipping, revealing a man who craved connection even amidst chaos. As Dante prepared to face the Italian threat, the gravity of his choices weighed heavily upon him. The bond he shared with Lucia, forged in the fires of passion and vulnerability, became a silent promise that he would protect her at all costs.

Will Dante manage to maintain control, or will the unexpected revelations lead to a confrontation that could change everything? Moreover, Lucia's role in this unfolding drama is poised to deepen. Left alone in the penthouse, her vulnerability juxtaposed against the dangerous world Dante inhabits will add a layer of suspense. As she grapples with her feelings for Dante and the reality of her situation, readers will be left wondering how her choices could impact not only her fate but also Dante's. Will she remain a passive observer, or will she find a way to assert herself amidst the chaos?