Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 9

Another scream echoes around me as I watch my enforcer and best friend, Nikolas twisting the knife further into the man’s flesh.

At the moment, I am standing at one of the Bratva docking compounds used for offloading our shipments and torturing lesser priority goons and offenders but my mind is currently thousands of miles away in Paris.

I cannot think about anything except for my golden haired wife who is currently far away from me.

The same wife that I tricked into marrying me and have been treating like s**t since then.

It has been two weeks since she left for Paris and she hasn’t bothered to reply to any of my text messages or calls. She has been posting online about her day to day activities and it is only through stalking her Instagram through an anonymous I.D. that I even know what is going on with her.

“Tell me about the latest shipment, dickhead.” Nik spits out, twisting the knife further inside the man’s gut and he only responds by making gurgling noises in the back of his neck as his head lolls back and I watch with distaste as all light leaves his eyes.

Nik lets out a frustrated grunt as he steps back, jerking the pocket square out of his coat before he wipes away at the b***d on his hands on authentic Burberry silk.

He turns back towards me with his lips turned down in a scowl as I wait for the dark shadows to dissipate from his eyes.

Nikolas is an otherwise fine man, gentle, kind, and poised. But when he loses his mind and lets the beast take control of his body and actions, he is something straight out of nightmares. The man could be standing in a f*****g river of b***d and still grimace at the colour not being deep enough.

And so, he walks towards me, picking up a drink from the small bar top behind me before gulping it down in one go. He asks for the mixer to make another one before he finally turns towards me, watching as my men drag away the dead guy’s body.

“I f*****g hate it when they die without giving me the information that I need.” He grumbles underneath his breath, “now I have to wait till another one of these comes around.”

I nod my head, barely able to pay attention to him as it is.

The man he was torturing was one of many who work for Dominico Mancini and he had been involved in the transport of multiple shipments of his. Now, the thing about Dominico is that he never uses the same men for transporting his shipments. They are always hired anonymously and then paid when the job is done.

But Frank, the man Nik was questioning till now, had been involved in three of his projects and it is evident that he knew more about Dominico’s charades than any of the other men in the circle. Hence, the reason why I had Nik apply his techniques on him.

But that had turned out to be useless.

“Don’t worry, Mancini’s grip is slipping on his operations. He’s losing faith and growing more paranoid by the day. He’ll give me another opportunity.” I mutter in an uninterested manner. Even my revenge fantasies hold no charm at the moment.

Nik gives me a once over as he stares at me like I have grown two heads. I focus my eyes back to the present and glare at him pointedly just as he says, “did I hear that right or have you suddenly developed a lot of patience overnight?”

“I have always been patient, Nik. A little over enthusiastic, yes, but patient nonetheless.” I tell him with a sharp tone.

Nikolas raises his hands in surrender, giving me a mischievous grin, “is your pretty wife putting you in a foul mood again?” He asks wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and I swear I would have hit him in the head if he wasn’t an old friend of mine. “She still not replying to your calls or messages?”

Nikolas knows the details about the conditions of my marriage to Arabella and same as Vernon, he was more than against the idea of playing with her heart. But then again, he agreed a spoilt princess like her would probably get over it because this is the way of the Italians. Their mafia men are famously involving themselves in loveless marriages fit for business and then the women practically prepare themselves their entire life to be sold to the highest bidder. What I did to Arabella was nothing new.

“First, my father wanted to sell me to the highest bidder and now you’re using me for your revenge against him. You’re both the same!”

I blink away the memory of her tears as I realise that now, I am even hearing her voice in my head while she is nowhere near me.

“That’s none of your business.” I mutter bitterly, staring far ahead as I gulp down my drink and reach over to the small bar top behind me to pick up a bottle straight away.

Nikolas chuckles seeing my antics, shaking his head as he watches me drink before snatching the bottle and taking a sip of his own.

I glare heatedly at him and just as I am about to snatch the liquor back, my phone pings with a very distinct notification sound that is just reserved for Arabella.

My hands are already working on taking it out of my inner suit pocket and just as I flick it open, it says that she has just posted something on her stories.

Dejectedly, realising that she hasn’t still replied to my messages, I click in the circular icon of her profile picture to open her story—

It is a picture of her head resting against a very male shoulder but the face of the man is turned away.

“Missed you.”

It is captioned.

“Oof, that looks bad…” Nikolas mutters beside me but I am already halfway to the door by the time he is finished speaking.

If Arabella thinks that she can get away with something like this then she has a whole other storm coming towards her.

No one crosses me like that.