Chapter 6
That night, emotions off the charts, I couldn’t even look Hilary in the eye after what I’d done.
Hilary remained exactly as he’d always been–polished marble perfection, presenting that cool
sophistication to the world.
Only at night, when bringing me my warm milk, would he linger at my door. That cultured voice asking, “Might Miss Rockefeller require some… tension release this evening?”
Christ, he was tempting in that silk V–neck, teeth marks still visible on those perfect lips.
But Adora fucking Rockefeller doesn’t break that easily.
I’d chug the milk and slam the door in his face.
Tonight he knocked on schedule.
I arched an eyebrow, ready to shut him down with a flat “Not happening.”
Then Hilary tilted his head, nodding toward the living room below.
Luca had
wasn’t alone. He’d dragged Grace along for the show.
eone had grabbed it with bare hands, something crumbling inside me all
d, my first instinct was to run and hide.
ammed the door, snarling, “Tell them to fuck off.”
Hilary nodded with that infuriating calm, but his elegant fingers remained firmly on the door.
“Miss Rockefeller,” he said with precision, “Mr. Lynch is here to discuss business matters.”
His tone made it crystal clear–I was expected downstairs.
When Hilary decided something, God himself couldn’t change his mind.
For some reason, I felt a surge of pure defiance. Yet I followed him like a shadow, face cold as
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No More My Mafia Don’s Plaything–Now I’m Riding the V–Card Golden Boy
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Chapter 6
January.
Luca spotted me immediately. Seeing me trailing Hilary so closely turned his face to granite.
He dangled a black lace negligee from his fingers like a trophy, cutting straight to the chase.
“Jesus, Adora, keeping your fuck–me lingerie at my place after we’re done? Bad form.”
When Luca traveled for “business,” he’d always packed something of mine. Claimed he couldn’t
sleep without my scent nearby.
I remembered this particular piece well. During my exodus, I couldn’t find it–assumed he’d trashed
it long ago.
Yet apparently, it had been nestled in his luggage all this time.
Picturing him alone, clutching my underwear, red–eyed and pathetic–I felt nothing but disgust.
He’d already decided to dump me, so why keep my panties like some pervert?
Fighting the sting in my eyes, I kept my voice glacial:
“You drove all the way to New York to return my underwear? What are you, the panty police?”
uca smirked, watching me white–knuckle my rage. He swung his leg with exaggerated casualness,
yanking Grace against him.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, sweetheart.”
“Grace and I are getting hitched. Best to cut all ties, don’t ya think?”
Right in my fucking face, flaunting how quickly he’d moved on while I was still bleeding.
He paused, his razor–sharp eyes shifting to Hilary, voice dripping with contempt:
“After riding with a real man, settling for this preppy little bitch…”
“No wonder you’re still wet for me, Adora.”
His fingers caressed my lingerie, a deliberate reminder of every night we’d spent tangled together,
But looking at this pathetic display objectively… Wasn’t it actually Luca who couldn’t let go, clinging
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Chapter 6
to scraps of fabric, deliberately tracking me to New York?
I crossed my arms, deliberately brushing my foot against Hilary’s calf. Revenge surged through me like a drug hit.
Hilary stood there–tall, broad–shouldered, narrow–waisted, and impeccably tailored. His eyes now held a beautiful darkness. How was this Ivy League masterpiece inferior to Luca in any way?
“Looking back, I think my standards were in the fucking gutter. I’d literally take anything with a pulse.”
“A real man should be clean and refined–not some two–bit thug with blood under his fingernails.”
I trailed my finger along Hilary’s vein–marked forearm, smiling coldly at Grace.
“Grace, honey, since I’ve test–driven your new toy…”
“Even with the wedding planned, you really should get him tested. Like, medically.”
Luca’s face turned the color of ash, but I just smiled wider, twisting the knife:
“These street rats who fuck anything that moves–they’re not like men from good families. They’re walking petri dishes.”
“You fucking bitch-” Luca’s fist clenched so tight I thought his veins might burst.
Hilary smoothly stepped between us, shielding me like bulletproof glass.
“Mr. Russo,” he said with perfect diction, “Miss Rockefeller appears fatigued from your… unexpected visit.”
“If you’re here for business, you remain welcome. If not, I must insist you depart immediately.”
Hilary had always been brilliant at telling people to go to hell so elegantly they looked forward to the trip.
Though leaner than Luca, Hilary towered over him by several inches. From where I stood, I barely
reached his shoulder.
I tugged at his sleeve, stage–whispering just loud enough to carry:
“But you haven’t brought my warm milk yet, Hilary… You know I can’t sleep without it.”
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Citer 6
Hilary shifted slightly, giving Luca the perfect view of me toying with his clothes.
Luca violently jerked Grace against him, his smile as fake as his promises.
“Why don’t we crash at the Rockefeller mansion tonight? Talk business tomorrow when we’re all…
rested?”
“Whatever,” I replied with practiced boredom.
Not like Luca and I had anything but scorched earth between us anyway.
No More My Mafia Don’s Diathing Now Evo riding that
