Page 15 of Dark Mafia Bride

He lets out a low sigh, leaning back against the bar. “Damn. I don’t know what to say. Alessia and I have already offered to take a loan on your behalf...”

“No.” I swallow. “I told you I wonn’t let you guys do that.”

My friends have helped me enough, to the point where I feel guilty. I already owe them a lot, even though they’ve said I shouldn’t worry about paying them back. I can’t have them taking out loans for me on top of that. I haven’t even settled the ones I owe yet. Besides, there’s this optimistic part of me that thinks I’ll be lucky tonight.

Gio and Alessia recently moved in together, and I’m sure Gio will pop the question any day now. It wouldn’t be fair to drag them down with my problems just because I made a deal with life to be unlucky.

“You’re walking on thin ice here. Abruzzi doesn’t play fair. He’s shown you that.”

“Do you think I don’t already know that?” I groan. “That’s kinda why I’m here.” I wince, ashamed of what I’m about to say.

He studies me for a moment, and his eyes widen as he reads meaning into my words.

“I’m not here to sell myself or anything like that,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my mouth before he can jump to conclusions. “You know Nonna would have my head if she ever found out.” My voice wavers slightly, and I let out a shaky breath. “I just thought…maybe I could find someone who sees my potential and wants to help me.”

He sighs. “Mira...”

I pause, the weight of my own words settling in. “I know it sounds stupid.” I groan, burying my face in my hands to shield myself from his reaction.

My friends never judge me, but even I know how naive I must sound right now. It’s a little humiliating, exposing this vulnerable part of myself, but the words are out there now, and there’s no taking them back.

Gio chuckles lightly before pulling my hand away from my face. “I know you think Abruzzi is dangerous, but there are others here who are much worse. You don’t want to get involved with them.”

My heart drops at his words, and just then, I feel it—a prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Someone is watching me.

I turn, scanning the room, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Men are hunched over poker tables, and women are chatting and laughing. Yet, the feeling lingers, sharp and unshakeable.

Giovanni follows my gaze. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head, trying to brush off the unease. “No, it’s nothing,” I lie.

I seem to be doing that a lot these days. Some things are embarrassing to admit, and some...well, they shouldn’t even leave my lips at all.

Like the way I’ve been hoping to somehow bump into Ettore again. He hasn’t left my mind since I practically fled our shared hotel room that morning. I keep thinking about how he saved my life and how he took my virginity afterward.

My first time was a whirlwind of hot, sizzling, unforgettable sex.

“Mirabella?” Gio’s voice filters through my thoughts. “I asked you a question.”

I groan inwardly. A man like Ettore has no doubt forgotten about me by now. Yet here I am, zoning out during conversations because I can’t stop thinking about our time together.

I’m turning into a sex-crazed woman, and I’ve only had sex once! Well, twice, if I count the second round we had in the middle of that night.

My cheeks flush as Gio shakes his head at me.

“I asked if the thugs hurt you, but clearly, your mind is somewhere else.”

“They didn’t hurt me. He just sent them to scare me,” I lie. They may not have physically harmed me, but they definitely planned to. I’d be dead by now if not for Ettore.

Giovanni opens his mouth to speak again, probably to lecture me about my life choices, but his eyes snap to something—or someone—behind me. His lips freeze mid-sentence, his entire demeanor stiffening. The usual bravado I always tease him for is replaced with unease.

“What is it?” I ask, a frown tugging at my brow.

His answer doesn’t come in words. Instead, he jerks his chin toward a figure moving through the dimly lit bar—a man dressed in a tailored black suit, polished shoes that click against the floor, and dark sunglasses that shouldn’t belong in such lighting.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise as he approaches, his movements deliberate, calculated. He stops just shy of my stool, his presence unnervingly close.

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