Delivering Condoms for My Mafia Husband Again
His 28th mistress was special.
She didn’t want his money or name. She didn’t even want him.
And my husband, Luca Noir, was obsessed.
He pursued her for two years, and I raised hell for two years.
When that girl finally agreed to give herself to him, he was as giddy as a teenage boy.
“Stella, Sophia is my last woman. Believe me, in less than six months, I'll get tired of her and come back home. After that, I'll be yours and yours alone.”
I just nodded. “Okay.”
He smirked, stroking my cheek as he headed for the door.
“You look so pathetic, darling. You know what? Go have some fun. Find a boy toy. I promise I won’t get jealous.”
Each time, he would watch with cold composure as I professed my undying loyalty, proclaiming I would live or die for him.
Then he would leave without a second thought, rushing off to another woman.
But this time, he was wrong.
I picked up my phone.
On the other end, a desperate voice pleaded, “Marry me. Please.”
I smiled. “Okay.”