His Mafia Throne

Chapter 5

Aurora

The morning after. Max's silence. My rage.

When I woke up, the room was wrapped in a heavy, suffocating silence. Pale morning light crept through the thick curtains. My body felt sore—like the night before had left its mark on every inch of my skin. And maybe it had. In a way, I wanted those marks to stay forever.

But the bed was empty. Cold. Max was gone.

I instinctively reached out to his side, but all I found was wrinkled sheets. I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling, and let the memories of the night wash over me, one by one, burning slowly.

His lips. His hands. The words he didn’t say, but that I felt in the way he touched me. The way he took me like he couldn’t breathe without me.

And now? He had vanished. Without a single word.

Why?

I slid my legs off the bed, my feet touching the cold floor. My heart was beating strangely, erratically. Part of me feared what was coming. The other part… was angry. His silence, his absence, his escape—made me want to scream, to claw at him, to force him to look into my eyes and tell me what the hell last night meant.

I stepped into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look the same. I wasn’t the same girl. My cheeks were still flushed, my lips slightly swollen from his kisses, faint marks on my neck. I felt... possessed. And abandoned.

The shower was cold. I wanted to wash away the guilt, the confusion, the need—but every drop that touched my skin only reminded me of him. Of his hands. Of how he gripped my hips. Of how he whispered my name in that low, broken voice.

And now? What? He pretends none of it happened?

---

I walked down the stairs slowly but firmly. Each step felt like a decision. A promise. I wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

When I entered the kitchen, he was there. Sitting at the table, holding a newspaper in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. His white shirt perfectly pressed, his black tie in place. Elegant. Composed. As if last night hadn’t happened at all.

My eyes locked on his neck. I searched for any trace of me. A scratch. A bruise. Something. But all I saw was distance. Ice.

I swallowed hard.

— Good morning… I said.

He lifted his gaze for a second, no smile, no emotion, then looked back down at the paper.

— Morning.

That was it. He didn’t even really look at me.

— Max… can we talk?

— Not now.

I froze near the table, my hands shaking slightly. I clenched my fists. I wasn’t going to walk away without answers.

— Then when? Or are you just going to pretend none of it happened?

— What happened should never have happened.

His words hit like a punch in the stomach.

— Seriously? After everything? After the way you touched me? The way you said my name…?

— It was a mistake, Aurora. A moment of weakness.

Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I wasn’t going to cry in front of him. Not in front of the man who made my heart burn only to throw the ashes in my face.

— So for you… it was just lust? That’s all?

— For me, it was a lapse in control. Nothing more.

I stared at him. I didn’t recognize this man. Or maybe… this had always been the real Max. The one who didn’t feel. Who only took. Who made you feel wanted, only to show you how easily you could be dismissed.

Anger surged up my throat.

— Are you scared, Max?

— No.

— Then why are you running? Why are you treating me like a mistake?

Silence.

He finished his coffee, stood up, and grabbed his coat. I thought he’d say something—anything. Apologize, maybe. But all he did was stop for a second at the door and say, without turning:

— Forget it. It’s better this way.

And then he left.

---

I stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the untouched cup of tea in front of me. I stood up suddenly and slammed the cup into the sink. It shattered. Like me. Like us.

I pressed a hand against my stomach—right where he had held me so tightly, where he made me forget who I was. And right there… I felt an aching emptiness.

But I wasn’t going to let him forget me so easily.

If Max wanted distance, he’d get it.

If he wanted silence, I’d give him oceans of it.

But he wouldn't be able to ignore the fire I lit inside him.

Because just like me…

He wasn’t the same after last night.

And if he wants to play cold…

Then I’ll turn to ice.

But inside... I’m still burning.