Page 18 of Dark Mafia Bride

Giovanni freezes, his face draining of color. His eyes flick to the spot where the man disappeared, and then back to me, his jaw tightening.

“Do you have any idea who that man works for?”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “Who?”

His hand clamps onto the edge of the counter so tightly I think it might crack under the pressure. “You can’t trust him. Or his boss. You don’t know the kind of people you’d be dealing with.”

“Who is he?” I repeat, my frustration boiling over. “What’s with everyone hiding this guy’s identity? Just tell me!”

Giovanni exhales, a heavy sound like this is something he doesn’t want to say. “I’ve only ever seen him from a distance,” he begins reluctantly. “He pays for the high-end tables—cash, no questions asked. Doesn’t stick around. He’s in, he’s out.”

“So, what?” I scoff, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s stupidly rich and probably hides because he’s ugly?”

Giovanni’s face darkens, his expression shifting from concern to something more serious, more urgent. He doesn’t even crack a smile. “No, Mirabella. He hides because he’s dangerous. And ugly doesn’t even begin to cover it. From what I’ve heard, he’s the most dangerous man in this city. Forget Abruzzi—that guy’s a small fish compared to this guy. This man…he’s worse. Much worse.”

A cold knot tightens in my stomach. “You’re saying I shouldn’t get involved?”

“I’m saying youcan’tget involved. Whatever he’s offering you—it’s not worth it. Not when it comes from him.”

I swallow hard, the weight of Giovanni’s words settling over me.

As absurd as the offer is, as horrifying as the implications are, the shiny black card sits on the counter, taunting me with its promise of salvation. The stranger’s words echo in my mind, mingling with the weight of my reality.

And for the first time in years, I feel something other than despair.

I feel tempted.

6

ETTORE

Isee her the moment she walks into the room.

It’s like a magnetic pull, something invisible, but impossible to ignore. My eyes lock on her, and I can’t look away. Mirabella moves through the crowd, turning heads without even trying. I don’t blame them. She’s fucking sexy—undeniably the most gorgeous woman here.

She’s wearing this dress—tight in all the right places, catching the light with every step. Each movement she makes, I follow like a predator watching its prey. There’s something about her, something that sets her apart from every other woman in this room.

The others are perfect, polished, and practiced in how they stand, how they smile just enough to catch attention. They work too hard at it—trying to look flawless in their posture, their designer dresses, showing off the men hanging on their arms.

But Bella...she’s different. There’s a wildness to her, an effortless grace. She’s not trying to impress anyone; she justis. Every subtle move she makes pulls me in deeper. From the VIP section, hidden in the shadows, I sip my whiskey and watch her, grateful for the elevated view that lets me see everything.

Mirabella Ricci.

Did she really think she could slip away unnoticed? That she could sneak out of the hotel and disappear from my life? Did she honestly believe I wouldn’t track her down? Find out who she really is and uncover every single damning detail about her?

My mind flashes back to the report Luca handed me two days ago. I’d run a background check on her and her family. What I learned explained a lot—why she got mixed up with Abruzzi in the first place. Her mother’s sick, her grandmother’s old, and she’s got a younger sister still in high school. She’s balancing multiple jobs just to make ends meet. It’s no surprise she turned to that scumbag for money, especially when her mother needs expensive medication just to survive.

She’s too young to be carrying all that weight on her shoulders. Yet when I look at her, she doesn’t seem burdened, even though I know she is. She’s bold, daring, and full of life. And it only makes me want her more.

Plus, she’s so damnfuckingsexy.

I watch the way she moves through the crowd—her steps are careful, yet full of purpose. Her silky, straight auburn hair falls past her shoulders, swishing around her with each step. When she reaches the bar, she orders a drink, and I’m fixated on the way her lips move as she talks to the bartender. An image of those lips wrapped around my dick flashes in my mind, and I shake my head, trying to clear the thought.

This is what she’s done to me. Turned me into some horny teenager who can’t stop thinking about sex.

I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried convincing myself—lying to myself—that there’s nothing special about her. She’s just another woman, one who happened to be an amazing fuck. Yet here I am, watching her, thinking about how she felt in my arms, how Ineedto feel her again. And it’s not just about thesex. There’s something more—something deeper that makes me want to claim her, to own her.

Then she hugs him.

---