Let Me Go, My Mafia Husband by Paga Slayer

Chapter 466 Realization Mia's POV.

In the afternoon, I retreated to my room to prepare for the impending meeting with potential clients. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the possibility of expanding Logan's branches by establishing franchises for his new product. I took great care in dressing professionally for the occasion, opting for a black pencil skirt and a crisp white top.

As the meeting commenced, the discussion revolved around business matters, and, being the secretary, I assumed a quiet and observant role. My duties extended to ensuring that refreshments were available, so I promptly ordered food and drinks for the attendees. As the waiter brought in the beverages, I took the initiative to serve them in the appropriate glasses. However, I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling of being under the clients' scrutiny. Their gazes felt insidious and suggestive, making me feel both weird and awkward. Nonetheless, I maintained my composure, wearing a professional facade despite the discomfort their stares caused me.

However, I remained composed, wearing a professional facade, and continued with my duties. But then, the client addressed me directly, using an endearing term, "Hey sweetie! What's your name?" I glanced at Logan, whose eyes narrowed with disapproval at the man's choice of words.

Maintaining my poise, I replied in a calm and steady tone, "My name is Mia. I am Mr. Mancini's secretary." My response aimed at asserting my professional identity and creating a boundary.

The client, seemingly undeterred, continued with his attempts at familiarity, "Nice name, why didn't you join us for a drink?" He even gestured for me to sit beside him.

However, before I could reply, Logan swiftly intervened, turning towards me with a stern expression. His authoritative voice filled the room, "Mia, order something for yourself and take another table. This is a serious discussion, and your presence here is unnecessary. Once you've finished your meal, you can return to your room. You are off duty."

I nodded my head, trying to appear nonchalant as I kept my eyes down. Sliding into a chair at another table, I ordered some food, attempting to divert my attention away from the tense conversation happening nearby.

Logan, my boss and the leader of our mafia family, was handling some important clients, and I knew better than to interrupt or draw attention to myself.

Despite my efforts to tune them out, the clients' conversation was hard to ignore. They were discussing something inappropriate, and I couldn't help but eavesdrop inadvertently. One of the clients, with a lecherous gaze, remarked, "Mancini, your secretary is really hot. Why don't you send her to us for a night?" I felt a shiver of discomfort as his eyes seemed to linger on me.

who had been maintaining a composed demeanor until now, responded with clenched teeth, "Enough. I won't tolerate this kind of conversation about my employees. She is my staff, and in my company, every female staff

"Oh, come on Logan, I know what kind of services these secretaries provide. I also have one. If you want,

filled with disgust at their crude remarks, but Logan's response gave me

me. Otherwise, I will gladly dismiss this

I know these kinds of ambitious girls can spread their legs for

my thoughts by the resounding slap of Logan's fist hitting the table. Thankfully, it was a sturdy wooden table, not one made of fragile

voice seething with intensity. "And don't you dare approach her. She's an innocent and kind girl, and above all, she's my..." He paused, his voice trailing off momentarily. "...secretary. I've got her back. So don't you even think about laying

mad? It's just

And you're acting as if you're oblivious to it all," he taunted, a mocking

me like a

the illusions

believe that he genuinely cared for me. In that moment, Richard had exposed Logan's reminding me of his reputation as a notorious playboy, a man who changed companions as easily as he changed his

had I allowed myself to be happy in his presence, to believe that there was something more? It was all a facade, a means to an end. I berated myself for ever thinking that he could be mine, that he could truly care for me. The reality was painfully clear-I was nothing more than a pawn, a tool to secure

my father's medical treatment.

charm, for mistaking fleeting affection for something deeper and meaningful. It was a cruel lesson to learn, a reminder of the

night for you," Richard

surge of revulsion welling up within me, threatening to spill over. Nausea clawed its way to my throat as I fought to keep my composure. How could I be a part of this repulsive world? The thought made