Rogue Mafia Angel: A Broken Heroine Rescue Mafia Romance (New York Renegades Book 2) by Lenora Wilde

Author:Lenora Wilde [Wilde, Lenora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven – Paulo

As soon as I passed her room, I could tell there was something off.

I paused outside the door, straining my ears to get a better idea of what was happening behind that door. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was that had tipped me off to the notion that she wasn’t doing entirely well, but I had been on high alert since the day before, when she had come to me and confessed that she had been struggling with her cravings.

I had done everything I could to try and make it a little easier for her, but I could tell she still wasn’t having the easiest time with any of this. Who could blame her? Now that she was facing reality once more, she was being hit with all the reasons that she had started using in the first place. The pink cloud, those first few weeks of sobriety and feeling as though everything in the world was falling into place, were well and truly done, and now, all she had left was the reminder of her pain.

Yesterday, I had managed to keep her distracted, but I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. I’d gotten some info from one of my contacts in the financial department of a major banking chain, and they had started to home in on where Stefano, that bastard, had been spending the money he had earned from his abuse of these women.

But, in the process, I’d had to leave her alone for a while, and I had noticed that she had retreated back to her bedroom again. The first time she had been hiding out there since we had slept together. The two of us had been sharing a bed all week, falling asleep and waking up beside each other, but now, she seemed to want to keep her distance, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t have me worried.

I could hear her humming to herself behind the door, and it should have been a happy sound, but there was something … off about it. Something wrong. She sounded a little out of it, and I scanned my mind, trying to figure out if she could have gotten out of the house long enough to get her hands on some powder, but I was sure she couldn’t. So, what was …?

I pushed the door open slowly, and, when I saw the sight laid out in front of me, my heart sank. She was flopped down on the bed, and beside her, on the bedside table, was a half-drunk bottle of scotch. Her eyes were woozy and distant as she lifted herself up to look at me, staring up at me with a sloppy smile.

"Hey," she murmured, clearly in the mind for some seduction. I held back at the door. The sight of that bottle sent a shiver down my spine. I had spent far too many nights like this myself, and I knew they meant nothing good. If you had to get this drunk just to survive, you were struggling, in a serious way.

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