My Husband Is The Mafia King

k at him! He can't even afford a proper

ed my fork until my knuckles turned white. Beside me, my husband, Julian, d

ispered, my face burni

r, who was smirking into her wine glass. "You could have married

hrew it across the table. It bounced off Julian's shoulder. "Hey, dog. Sinc

table. But I couldn't. My father was already fu

ond, a chill ran down my spine. It was a look so dark, so incredibly dangerous, that the room went d

d gently and wiped his mouth. "Of course," he said softly,

arshot. "I swear, Chloe, he's brainwashed you,

nothing. They didn't kn

oak doors of the din

r showed emotion, stumbled inside. He was pale

y father. "The... the Blackwood Syndicate. T

d in this city. They were the most ruthless, untouchable mafia

nst the marble floor. "What? No! I paid them! I gave them

t could answer, the

holding assault rifles. My mother and sister screamed, jumping ou

broken glass. He wore a tailored black suit

looked at my father. "The boss doesn't appreciate being che

ase! I have daughters! Take whate

nd pointing it directly at my father's head

ment, the kitche

opped, looking at the armed men, the shattered glass, and m

creamed, tears spilling

d, set the beer down on the dining t

down, Marcus,

soft or quiet anymore. It was commanding. He

, he turned his head toward Julian. The color drained from

gun. It clattered lou

der of the Blackwood Syndicate fell to his knees.

hispered, his whole body shaking

. My mother's ja

married. The man they

echoing in the silent room. He looked down at the knee

s voice sending a shiver down