One Night Mistake… Now I Carry the Mafia Heir

Chapter 93: 93/Playing with Monsters

Chapter 93

Alexander’s point of view

"We... we are nothing, Mr. Alexander," he replied in obvious confusion and stammering, rubbing his hands together in fear of my wrath. "Just hanging out together, spending some pleasant time."

I knew Monchez’s filthy, sadistic mindset very well. I realized immediately, through my expert instincts, that his intentions toward Stephanie’s sister were entirely sinister, and that he was planning to destroy her. I rose to my full, imposing, and massive height from my chair, speaking with a decisive command and a tone that brooked no argument: "Monchez... come with me to the back hallway for a moment. I need a word with you."

I walked away from the table, heading toward a quiet, secluded hallway in the restaurant away from prying eyes. He followed me with hurried, almost running steps, feeling genuine terror at my anger. When he stood before me, he asked with apprehension and dread: "Mr. Alexander, please tell me... is there something wrong, or a mistake I’ve committed?"

I locked his movements with my terrifying gaze fixed upon him, and said in a firm, harsh tone: "Are you intending to take that stupid girl to the club tonight?"

He swallowed his dry spit, a sound filled with confusion and agitation escaping him: "I didn’t quite understand your meaning, Mr. Alexander... which club do you mean?"

I pressed hard on my words with severity as I leaned close to his face to terrify him: "Robert Cross’s club... the mafia king. Are you planning to take her there and sell her to him to be a slut? Confess!"

His eyes widened in genuine shock, and he asked in bewilderment: "Do you... do you know this girl from before, Mr. Alexander?"

I clenched my jaw with excessive force until my teeth nearly shattered. I brought my face closer to his, commanding him in a dry, decisive tone that left no room for discussion or review: "Listen to me very well, Monchez, and put this inside your small head... you will stay completely and permanently away from this girl. If I see you with her again, I will end your life with these two hands of mine. Is that clear?"

He bowed his head in obedience, fear, and terror at my sincere threat, and said immediately: "Very well... very well, Mr. Alexander. Consider the matter finished. I will stay away from her right now."

In those seconds, Valentina approached us with curious, reckless steps. Looking at us with suspicion and doubt, she asked: "What is going on between you two? And what are you talking about in secret?"

I gave Monchez a commanding nod to leave, and he immediately withdrew in fear, exiting the place quickly. Valentina turned to me, crossing her arms over her chest, and said in a skeptical, disapproving tone: "Why did your close friends say a moment ago that your real name is Alexander Volkov and not Thorne?"

I fixed my cold, dismissive gaze upon her, saying with blunt harshness: "That is none of your fucking business, and it does not concern you."

Her eyes narrowed in disapproval. "Were you lying to us throughout our studies, or are you lying to them now, impersonating another identity?"

I adjusted my suit jacket coldly, speaking as I prepared to turn and return to my table: "Excuse me, miss. I have important business and must leave now."

But she was reckless. She reached out with lightning speed, gripping my arm firmly, pulling me toward her, and saying with defiance and fascination: "Stop right there, Mr. Volkov... It seems you were living an interesting double identity, and this intrigues me!"

I removed my arm from her grip gently but with a firm, harsh force that pained her. Bringing my face close to hers, I spoke in a stern, low, and warning tone: "Valentina... go home immediately, and do not hover around this man, Monchez, ever again. This is your first and final warning."

She smiled with cunning and femininity, tilting her head as she looked deep into my eyes, speaking with a provocative coyness: "Oh... am I to understand from these words that you are jealous of other men over me, Professor?"

I took a deep, deep breath to suppress my anger, speaking with a severe seriousness that fought across my features: "Valentina, listen to what I am saying very well... This man and his circle are a fatal danger to your life. Stay away from him if you value yourself."

She shrugged her shoulders with apparent carelessness and obvious frivolity, saying: "He is just a passing man I amuse myself with. I don’t care about him at all."

Then her gaze lowered gradually and boldly toward my wrist and broad forearm. Her soft fingers extended to touch the fabric of the suit covering my skin, and she said with clear admiration and fascination that she didn’t hide: "These many, exciting tattoos weren’t present on your body before when you were teaching us... I like them very much, they suit you."

I pulled my hand away from her coldly, speaking in a decisive tone that ended the conversation: "Do not forget my words and my warning to you."

I walked away from her with wide, measured strides, returning to the table where my men sat waiting. But she did not retreat or show fear as others usually did; instead, she followed me with bold, confident steps. She pulled an empty wooden chair right next to me without permission, sitting on it with complete confidence and ease. Then, she looked at the tough men around the table with a charming smile, and said boldly: "I truly hope you don’t mind at all if I join you... or do you mind, Mr. Volkov?"

I clenched my jaw with excessive force, fixing her with a gaze as sharp as a blade that cornered her bold, reckless features. Speaking with a suppressed tension and a rage boiling in my veins, I said: "Valentina... what exactly do you think you’re doing? Enough with the nonsense, leave this place immediately."

She adjusted her posture on the chair with absolute confidence, without even batting an eye. Instead, she turned her face toward my men, saying with a soft, assured smile: "I’m just joining you. I want to sit with you for a bit so we can get to know each other. Isn’t that welcome?"

Damian leaned his broad back into his chair, looking at her with a clear gleam of admiration in his dark eyes. He let out a low laugh and said: "Of course you can sit, beautiful. There is always room for gorgeous women."

I whipped around to face him suddenly, my features harsh and my eyes blazing. I interrupted with a firm, brutal finality that instantly silenced everyone: "No... she cannot stay here. End of story."

Mike intervened in the conversation, smiling slyly and shaking his head in mock helplessness, saying: "Why are you so uptight, Alexander? Let the lady stay with us, the night is still young."

Valentina looked at me with blatant defiance and ingrained stubbornness. Tilting her head cunningly with a smug smile, she said: "Look for yourself... your close friends don’t mind my presence at all. You are the only one with a problem here."

I leaned back in my seat, forced into silence as frustration and rage gnawed at my chest, knowing my fake identity could be exposed at any moment. Meanwhile, Mike fixed his curious, sharp gaze upon her, asking in a calm tone: "Tell us then... why did you call Alexander ’Professor Thorne’ a moment ago? Where did you get that name from?"

She interlocked her fingers over the table with absolute coolness, speaking with a calculated spontaneity and cautious cleverness to salvage the situation: "Oh, it’s nothing... I just mistook him for a professor who used to teach me in high school. The features are identical to a confusing degree, but it seems I was indeed mistaken."

After that, she continued laughing, exchanging bold glances with Mike and Damian. For some reason, the formal boundary between them vanished entirely within minutes; they began talking with absolute ease, like old friends who had known each other since high school days. Mike took a deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. He looked at her with amusement and malice, saying: "We are leaving this restaurant right now to hang out at the club... Will you come with us to finish the night?"

I snapped my head around with lightning speed, fixing Mike with a lethal gaze—a glance that could have pierced through his flesh and ended his life from the sheer magnitude of my fury. But Valentina didn’t care about my warning looks; instead, her eyes gleamed with a reckless, childish enthusiasm, and she said cheerfully: "Of course I want to! I love nights out and wild atmospheres."

I was burning with rage and fury in my seat. I did not want her to come with us, nor did I want any form of contact or mixing between her and my friends. I pulled myself up with cold pride, speaking in a dry, cutting, and severe tone that rattled the table: "Valentina is going home right now... The night is over for her."

She knitted her brows in disapproval and annoyance at my control, leaning her body forward slightly to face me down. Speaking with sheer stubbornness, she retorted: "And why do you insist on stopping me?... I am an adult, and I am coming with you whether you like it or not."