Lure My Husband's Mafia Uncle

I placed my hand on Marco’s. “We should probably lay low for a while.”

He froze, then nuzzled my neck, more carefully this time.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Who would have thought the infamous Marco Moretti, a man known for his ruthlessness, could sound so docile?

I grabbed his tie, pulled him closer, and whispered in his ear, my breath a tease against his skin. “Didn’t you hear? My husband is back.”

He snorted.

“So what? Divorce him. Be with me. I’ll handle everything. No one will dare to touch you.”

It was a familiar promise.

But I didn’t need it anymore.

A lifetime is too long, and a man’s heart is a fickle thing.

I could enjoy Marco's sincerity, but I couldn't trust it to last.

I pried his hands from my waist and tapped the toe of my stiletto on his expensive leather shoe.

“Uncle Marco, you’re crossing a line.”

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

“He treats you like garbage. Why won’t you leave him? Do you still love him?”

This was the first time he had used that tone with me. Cold, domineering, forceful.

But I just wanted to laugh. He was so cute when he was jealous.

“Does he deserve it? A simple divorce is letting him off too easy. I can’t just walk away until I’ve seen him utterly destroyed.”

The tension in Marco's shoulders seemed to melt away.

“Just tell me what you need from me.”

I draped my arms over his shoulders.

“I need your help right now.”

His breathing grew heavy.

Then, he swept me into his arms and carried me into his private lounge.

The air in the small room grew thick and heavy.

When I got home, I found Sonny sitting on the sofa, a sour scowl on his face.

I ignored him and turned to go upstairs.

“Stop,” he commanded, his eyes tracking me.

I turned, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“What is it?”

He eyed me with suspicion.

“You went to Marco’s company?”

I feigned surprise. How could he know?

“One of my clients wanted to discuss a deal but was worried about paparazzi, so we met there. Just work, you know.”

He narrowed his eyes, his voice turning to ice.

“I told you to quit that job. You think I can’t support you?”

The irony was suffocating.

Tired, I just tried to placate him. “We’ll talk about it later.”

I turned to leave, but he shot up and grabbed my wrist.

“I heard a woman from the Falcone family was found dead in the river last week. Cheated on her husband.”

Oh, what a fascinating story.

Sonny’s voice dropped even lower.

“Sharon, you’ll quit your job tomorrow. And you're not to leave this house until I say so.”