The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)-Chapter 75: Addiction is Pay to Win

I blink slowly as consciousness returns after a little cat nap The clean white ceiling of our private suite coming into focus. My body feels heavy, like I'm wearing a weighted blanket, but it's not entirely unpleasant. Just different.

Early December in New England brings an early darkness that presses against our windows, the glass frosted with the first real cold snap of the season. Snow has been falling steadily for three days, blanketing the sprawling grounds of this ultra-exclusive rehab facility in pristine white. Not that I've been outside to see it.

Two weeks into treatment, and I'm already feeling like a different person. The withdrawal symptoms have mostly subsided, replaced by a strange emptiness that the doctors assure me is normal. My body is learning how to feel things naturally again after being flooded with chemicals for so long.

Caterina shifts beside me on our massive bed, her crimson eyes studying my face with that intense focus I've come to rely on. Her fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, careful to avoid the IV port.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks again, her brow furrowed with concern.

I nod, offering her a small smile. "Yeah, just the usual aches. The sweating isn't nearly as bad as yesterday."

She doesn't look convinced. Her hand moves to my forehead, checking for fever like I'm a child with the flu. "Your tooth still bothering you?"

I run my tongue over my front teeth. The oral surgeon Caterina flew in from Switzerland had given me a temporary implant, with the permanent one scheduled for next week.

"It's fine," I assure her, catching her hand with mine. "Really, Cat. I'm okay."

She sighs, leaning back against the mountain of pillows. "I just worry."

"I know you do." I squeeze her hand gently. "But honestly, when you have more money than God like you do, beating addiction is surprisingly easier than people would think."

It's been non stop specialists and miracle drugs for my stay here.

A small smile finally breaks through her concern. "Money helps with the physical part," she acknowledges. "But the rest of it..."

She doesn't finish, but she doesn't need to. We both know what she means. The nightmares. The flashbacks. The way I still flinch sometimes when she moves too quickly. Money can't fix that.

"Dr. Winters says I'm making good progress," I offer, trying to reassure her.

Caterina nods, but her eyes drift to the security monitors mounted in the corner of our suite. Six screens showing different angles of the facility grounds, the perimeter fence, the main entrance. Another shows the hallway outside our door, where two of her most trusted women stand guard 24/7.

Caterina's attention shifts from the monitors back to me, her crimson eyes suddenly haunted. She fidgets with the edge of the blanket, something I've rarely seen her do.

"There's something I feel I should say," she says, her voice uncharacteristically small.

I wait, giving her the space to continue. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squaring as if preparing for battle.

"Adam, I'm sorry I got you addicted to drugs in the first place." The words rush out of her like she's been holding them back for too long. "After the hammers... I started giving you Oxy's because I thought it would make you easier to control. To manipulate."

She already admitted to this in the past, but for her to feel bad about it is surprising.

"I never imagined someone else could use that addiction against you," she continues, her voice cracking slightly. "That Luna would..." Her hands clench into fists on top of the blanket.

A small, bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. She can see it as acceptable for her to do it, but not Luna.

'Still, at this point, I only feel safe when I'm with her.'

"You think it's funny that I deliberately got you hooked on opioids?" she asks, bewildered.

I shake my head, reaching for her hand despite the ache in my still-healing fingers. "No." I sigh. "Cat, the only thing I thought about while I was in that warehouse was that I knew you'd find me. That you'd save me."

Caterina suddenly pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around me with that perfect balance of strength and tenderness that only she can manage. I bury my face in her neck.

"And honestly," I murmur against her skin, "I'm pretty sure I'd still be addicted to something if you thought it was beneficial long-term."

She pulls back slightly, her crimson eyes searching mine. A frown creases her perfect features. "Won't you miss our pill kisses?"

I think about those moments, her tongue pressing the pills into my mouth, the ritual that became so intertwined with intimacy and surrender. "Honestly? Yeah," I admit, not surprising myself at all.

A sultry smile spreads across her face, replacing the uncertainty. Without another word, she leans forward, capturing my lips with hers. Her tongue slides into my mouth, exploring with the same deliberate precision she used when delivering those pills.

My body responds immediately, a wave of pleasure washing over me as I've been conditioned to feel release with kisses like this from her. It's Pavlovian. The same mouth movements that once delivered drugs now delivering a different kind of high.

When she finally pulls away, I'm breathless and dizzy in the best possible way.

"We can have that without the pills," she whispers, her thumb tracing my bottom lip. "I can still take care of you."

I nod, unable to find words for a moment. "I'd like that."

She settles back against the pillows, pulling me with her so that my head rests on her shoulder.

"I've been thinking," she says after a comfortable silence. "About what happens next."

"Next?" I echo, suddenly uncertain. The future has seemed like a distant, abstract concept since my rescue.

"When you've recovered," she clarifies. "When we leave here."

"Oh." I hadn't really thought that far ahead. The rehab facility has become a cocoon, sheltering us from the outside world and its dangers.

Caterina's fingers gently stroke my hair, her touch feather-light against my scalp. "I'm retiring," she says simply, her voice carrying a quiet finality that makes me look up at her in surprise.

"What?" I blink, processing her words. "From La Reale?"

She shakes her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "From everything, Adam. The casino, the trafficking, the drugs. All of it."

I push myself up slightly, wincing as my healing hands protest the movement. "You're serious?"

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"Completely." Her crimson eyes hold mine with unwavering intensity. "I've already started the process. Maddy will take over most operations in New England."

"But... your empire," I stammer, genuinely shocked.

Caterina cups my face in her hands, her expression softening. "And I almost lost you because of it. Nothing is worth that risk. Nothing."

A lump forms in my throat as I process what she's saying. "So what's the plan?"

"We travel," she says, excitement creeping into her voice. "Anywhere you want. Everywhere you want. Private islands, mountain retreats, cities you've never seen. Just you and me, together."

The image she paints is so unexpected, so different from everything I've come to expect from our relationship, that I find myself momentarily speechless.

"What about security?" I finally ask, glancing at the monitors showing the armed guards outside our door.

She chuckles softly. "Oh, we'll have security. Some things don't change."

I lean back against her, trying to picture this new future she's describing. No more La Reale. No more rival crime bosses. No more violence bleeding into our personal life.

"Where would we go first?" I ask, allowing myself to imagine it.

"I was thinking the Maldives," she replies, her fingers resuming their gentle stroking of my hair. "Private villa over the water. White sand beaches. Nothing but ocean for miles."

Caterina takes my hand in hers with the gentle precision of a surgeon. Her crimson eyes focus intently as she begins to work my fingers, carefully stretching and bending each joint. The physical therapy has become part of our daily routine, her determination to heal my damaged hands has doubled since she saved me.

"Does that hurt?" she asks, noting my slight wince as she extends my pinky finger.

"Just a little stiff," I admit. The pain has decreased significantly over the past weeks, but the stiffness remains, a constant reminder of what happened.

She nods, continuing the exercises with methodical care. "The doctor said we need to keep working them every day. Otherwise, the scar tissue will limit your mobility permanently."

I watch her face as she concentrates on my hand, her elegant features set in determined focus. It's strange seeing this nurturing side of her, the woman who once broke these same fingers with a hammer now painstakingly helping them heal.

"You know," I say, watching her work, "I've never really gone traveling other than that time in Monza."

Caterina looks up, a smile spreading across her face. "Then this will be a fun adventure for us to go on. I'll show you places you've never imagined." Her eyes sparkle with genuine excitement. "Paris, Tokyo, Bali... anywhere you want."

The prospect is tempting, but doubts linger. "Can you really just walk away from everything? What about Isabella? Won't she try to come after us?"

Caterina sighs, her hands pausing their work. "I have a meeting with Isabella and Lucia Fontana in a few weeks at La Reale." Her tone suggests this is significant.

"Lucia?" I ask the name not registering.

"Lucia is the daughter of my boss, basically," she explains, resuming the gentle stretching of my index finger.

"Ohh, right, right," I nod, not really following.

My eyes widen at the mention of this meeting. Something about it feels important, momentous even. "Can I go?" The question leaves my lips before I can think it through.

Caterina sighs, setting my hand down gently on the blanket. "I can bring you if you're feeling better," she says, her tone cautious. "But you can't come into the meeting directly."

"Why not?"

Caterina stares at me, her crimson eyes hardening slightly. "It's complicated," she says with a finality that makes it clear the subject isn't open for further discussion.

Before I can protest, she pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms enveloping me completely. "I promise I won't leave you alone again, okay?" Her voice softens, vulnerability bleeding through her usual composure.

I fidget with the blanket, a sudden thought popping into my anxious mind. "Wait, Cat. This meeting... it sounds dangerous."

She tilts her head, studying my expression. "It's just business, Adam."

"But Isabella hates you. And you said this Lucia person is connected to your boss." My heart rate picks up as worst-case scenarios flood my brain. "What if you get whacked?"

Caterina breaks into a hearty laugh, her shoulders shaking as she throws her head back. The sound is unexpectedly warm and genuine.

"We don't use that word for it, Adam," she manages through her laughter.

"What word?" I ask confusion momentarily replacing my concern.

"Whacked." She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. "That's something from old movies.'"

"Okay..." I say with a hint of annoyance in my tone for disregarding my question.

Her expression softens as she cups my face in her hands. "No, Adam, I promise I won't get 'whacked.'"

"Are you sure?" I press, unable to shake the feeling of dread.

"Absolutely." She kisses my forehead. "The meeting is at La Reale. My territory, my security, my rules."

I lean into her touch, trying to let her confidence reassure me. "Thank god."