Page 55 of Dark Mafia Vows

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says firmly.

His eyes meet my gaze for just a moment, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—frustration, perhaps? Reluctance, maybe? Heat...yes.

Then he turns away, walking toward his room. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me standing alone in the hallway feeling a mix of disappointment and confusion.

What the hell just happened?

Shaking my head, I head over to the opposite wall, push the door open, and enter my room and lock it shut behind me. I take a shower, scrubbing my body to wash his touch and smell from my body.

It’s all pointless. And when I eventually fall asleep moments later, I slip into the dream world where the events of earlier repeat over and over again.

Bright sunlight streamsthrough my window as I rise from bed the next morning. It warms my skin, but it does little to chase away the unease lingering in my chest. I remain in bed for a few minutes, just gazing at the ceiling. When I’m sure Dario must have left for work, I take a shower, change into fresh clothes, and head to the dining room. Hopefully, a good breakfast will clear my head.

I step into the kitchen and make my way toward the dining room. The table is set in preparation for the meal, but the sight of Dario already seated at the far end catches me off guard. His dark hair is slightly tousled, and his clean-shaven jaw is sharp and clenched. He is dressed in a fitted black shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders with his usual black pants and black leather shoes. He looks impossibly handsome, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

“Morning,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, suddenly aware of the flimsy, short romper I’m wearing.

“Morning.” Dario doesn’t look up from his coffee, his expression as cold and unreadable as it was last night. I feel a rush of embarrassment flood my cheeks.

Rosa enters the room, her bright smile cutting through the tension. “Good morning, you two. I hope you’re ready for a delicious breakfast!” She chirps, bustling around the kitchen.

I take my seat, trying to ignore the quiet intensity in the air. Dario remains focused on his coffee, his demeanor unchanged, and I’m getting more pissed by the minute. I’m thrown back to two days ago when he acted exactly like this. His hot and cold attitude is giving me a fucking headache.

“Did you sleep well?” Rosa asks no one in particular, as if she can sense the tension in the room.

“Yes, I did,” I reply with a forced smile, trying to keep the warmth in my voice.

But my stomach squeezes painfully again, and I fear I’ve lost my appetite.

Rosa sets down a plate of fresh fruit and a basket of bagels at the center of the table. She leaves and returns almost immediately again with a kettle and a teacup for me. This time around, my smile is genuine, as I find it so sweet that she remembers I don’t like coffee.

“You both should eat. It’s important to start the day right.”

Her voice is overly cheerful, and I know it’s a deliberate attempt to dispel some of the tension in the room. I try to engage in a casual conversation with her as she places more plates before me.

The weight of Dario’s silence is still heavy opposite me. As I take a single grape into my mouth, he stands to his feet. I crush the grape with my teeth as I catch his gaze briefly, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes my heart race. It’s a mix of frustration and something else I can’t quite place.

I focus my attention back on the food before me just as he steps away from the table. Just when I think he’ll walk away without saying a word, Dario surprises me by leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. My breath catches, and warmth rushes to my cheeks. The gesture is so unexpected and tender that I forget about the tension for a moment.

“See you later,” he says, his voice low and rough, like a promise, before heading toward the door.

I sit there, stunned and blushing, and I feel Rosa’s eyes on me.

“Well, that was cute,” she teases, a playful smile on her face. “You should see your face, Ginny!”

“Rosa, stop it,” I murmur, trying to hide my blushing face, but I can’t help the smile creeping onto my lips.

“That’s how he is,” she continues in a breathy voice as she pours herself a cup of coffee. “The don has a tough exterior, but he’s a softie underneath. He treats all his workers well. Paolo, the gardener, had a sick mother. Before she died, the don paid off all their debts and paid all her hospital bills up until the moment she died. He let Paolo keep his job even though Paolo missed work on many days due to taking care of her.”

I feel a strong pull in my chest at her words. It’s almost as if she’s talking about another man, but I’ve seen the way she actscomfortable around him, and I know she might be telling the truth.

“When he learned that I lost my only son on my birthday, he started bringing me flowers and gifts every year,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

A soft gasp leaves my lips, and I blink repeatedly, suddenly feeling teary-eyed.

“I’m sorry about your son.”

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