The Don Wanted Me Back Too Late Novel by Astra Marlowe _ Novel





The Don Wanted Me Back Too Late Chapter 01

My mom’s text lit up my phone. She wanted me home. It popped up right after Jamarcus and I finished in the bathroom.
He was a Mafia boss, strong and brutal. He’d been so rough that my whole body ached. I was covered in marks.
He lifted me from the tub like a ragdoll. He hooked my bra and dried my hair with a strange, fake gentleness.
Then he spoke, his voice dead. "Go back to your family. We're done. Don't come back here."
I panicked. I thought he was just playing a game. I grabbed his hand. "I’m not leaving," I said. "I'm yours."
He didn't flinch. He pried my fingers off, one by one. His eyes were cold—no heat, no love.
"I’m getting married," he said.
His fingers traced my bare spine. "She’s different from you. She's soft and fragile. But you? You’re a killer. You’re built for this. I only used you for practice. I had to learn how not to hurt her on our wedding night."
"The wedding is in a few days. If you’re still here, she’ll be upset. I won't let you ruin her mood."
I kept smiling at him, but he didn't know the truth. Inside, I was already dead. And in three days, I would be gone forever.
***
The top-floor private suite stayed at a perfect temperature year-round. Inside the bathroom, the warm air hung heavy with the lingering scent of sex.
But Mom's message hit me with an instant wave of dread.
She was pushing me to come home and take over the family territory.
"What'd the message say? You're totally distracted."
Jamarcus' warm chest pressed against my back, easing my sudden panic. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
He was still catching his breath from our sex, his skin slick with either sweat or water from the shower.
I quickly snapped back to reality. Gripping his shoulders, I tilted my head back to kiss the corner of his mouth. "It's nothing serious, Don Jamarcus," I said. "My family just wants me to come back."
I tried to kiss him. He jerked his head away. I forgot. Rule number one: No kissing. We were just a thing. We weren't a couple.
Without a word, he scooped me up and carried me out of the bathroom.
In many ways, he seemed like a gentle guy.
His large hands carefully gathered my long hair as he slowly blow-dried it. Afterward, he fished my silk shirt out from the clothes scattered across the floor and buttoned it up for me.
His long fingers brushed lightly against the back of my neck, leaving my skin warm and highly sensitive.
"If your family needs you, just go back," he said. "You don't need to come to me anymore."
The sudden shift in his tone caught me off guard. I spun around and grabbed his hand. "I'm not leaving—"
"She’s back. It’s a family merger. We’re getting married."
Jamarcus dropped the bomb with total indifference. I just stood there, stunned, my mind reeling.
In the underworld, everyone knew he kept women at arm's length.
To the public, he was the untouchable, powerful Mafia Don, my mentor, yet we slept together every single night.
I thought I was special. I was wrong.
But now, he was standing here telling me he was marrying someone else.
Jamarcus removed my hand from his, finger by finger, his expression devoid of emotion.
He threw my coat at me. His voice cut like a knife. "She's fragile. You're a killer. You can take the hits. I practiced on you so I wouldn't hurt her on our wedding night."
"She's going to be upset if she sees you."
He made no attempt to soften his words. The bluntness cut straight through me.
I couldn't speak. My throat felt tight. I choked back my tears and got dressed. "Congrats, Don Jamarcus," I spat.
Then I bolted out the door.
I bolted out the gates. I pulled out my phone and texted my mom.
I’m coming home. I’ll marry whoever you want.

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