Page 119 of Dark Mafia Bride

The heat outside hits me like a wall when I step into the faculty parking lot. The sun is blinding. And there, unmistakable, is Ettore—leaning against his black Lamborghini Urus, wearing his usual look of effortless magnetism. He stands with his arms crossed, looking every bit as dangerous as he always does. His jawline is sharp, his hair a mess of dark waves I can’t seem to forget burying my hands into.

God, he looks good.

I hate the way my heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s so damned stupid. After everything, why does he still have this effect on me?

He straightens as he spots me, and I feel the weight of every eye around us as he walks toward me with those long, purposeful strides. There’s something magnetic about him—the way the crowd seems to part for him, as if they know exactly who he is. Itdoesn’t help that his presence seems to fill up the space between us before he even says a word.

“Hey,” he greets, and I don’t know how his voice can sound so soft yet gruff.

When he takes my bag from my shoulders, his hand brushes against my arm, and the electricity between us zings through my skin. My heart skips, then stutters, then races. The tension between us vibrates like a pulled string.

“Hey,” I croak, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions ever since I left him, but I never let myself revel in the fact that I missed him terribly. Not until now.

“Ready?” he asks, taking my hand and leading me toward his car.

I nod, though my stomach is in knots. I swallow hard, trying to hold myself together, but I’m not sure how long I can keep pretending. Today is our first doctor’s visit, and I’m terrified. Not just of the checkup, but of being there with him.

He opens the car door for me, and I slide inside, immediately hit by the scent of him—clean, expensive, and familiar. It wraps around me like a second skin, and for a moment, I forget the weight of everything else. The door shuts with a soft thud, and Ettore slides in on the other side, his presence suddenly filling the space.

The engine hums to life, and within seconds, we’re leaving the campus grounds and merging onto the highway. My heart hammers in my chest, a frantic rhythm I can’t ignore. The nerves crawl under my skin, twisting in all sorts of directions. I’m not just nervous about the doctor’s appointment. I’m nervous about the fact that I’m here with Ettore, that we’re together again like this.

“How are you?” he asks, his voice low as he turns a corner, his grip on the wheel tight and steady.

I notice the way he’s driving slower than usual, almost too carefully, as if every move he makes is designed to protect me. His voice is gentle, almost painfully so, and something about it makes my chest ache.

“I’m good,” I answer, my words coming out too flat.

“Just good?” he presses. “That’s it?”

I chuckle, trying to deflect. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

I raise an eyebrow, a flash of irritation stirring. “So you think I’m lying?”

“I want you to tell me everything, Bella,” he says, his voice intense, almost desperate. “I want you to tell me how you’ve been, how you’ve been managing college and work. Tell me if you really think being apart from me is working for you.”

“I knew it would come to this,” I mutter, folding my arms over my chest, already bracing myself for the familiar push and pull. “I’m fine, Ettore. I’ve got a good job, a supportive family, and my grades have never been better. Is that what you want to hear?”

I glance at him, but his face is tight, his jaw set in that way that makes me feel like he’s holding something back.

He chuckles bitterly, the sound slicing through the silence. “No.”

“No?” My head jerks back in surprise.

“I want you to admit that being away from me has been miserable,” he says, his voice growing raw, “that you made the wrong choice when you left, and that you miss me...”

I feel the words hit me like a slap to the face, and a wave of emotion crashes over me. “Ettore,” I warn softly, but I can’t stop the ache that spreads through me at his words.

“Because that’s how I’ve been, Bella,” he continues. “Miserable. Missing you. Hating myself for letting you walk away.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way...” I murmur, but even as I say it, I know it’s not enough.

“Are you?” He shoots me a look, his eyes dark, filled with too many emotions to name. I bite my lip, trying to keep my ground.

“No,” I admit sincerely, my voice softer than I want it to be. “I’m glad you regret what you did. I’m glad you see how wrong it was. But we can’t keep looking back, Ettore. We have to move forward. That’s why we’re going to this checkup today. To make sure the babies are okay. That’s all that matters now.”

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