Page 26 of Dark Mafia Bride

He exhales, and his silence tells me he knows not to press further. At least not in front of the others. I know he’ll grill me about it later.

“Is she famous?” Bianca asks in a flat voice, still not looking up from her phone. Her fingers are furiously typing away, no doubt updating her followers with whatever meaningless gossip she’s conjured up today.

She’s the youngest, a high school senior who’s made a name for herself as a social media influencer. Hundreds of thousands of followers engage with her, even when she’s doing nothing but flaunting her wealth and pretty face. She knows not to disclose any information about our family’s private life, which is why I’m not worried about her spilling my announcement to anyone willing to listen.

“Famous?” I raise an eyebrow, glancing down the table at her. “No.”

“Well, she will be the moment she marries you,” Bianca mutters, finally looking up with a smirk. “Maybe I should give her a shoutout. Is she a social media person? I know some people aren’t really into social media.”

She’s right. I doubt Bella is obsessed with likes, followers, and fans. She’s just trying to survive.

“For someone who just announced his marriage, you’re being a bit vague with the details, Ettore,” Camilla interjects, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “Is it because you’re unsure if she’s the right fit? I understand. Your father was quite uncertain about marrying your mother, too, in the beginning. If only he had listened...”

I clench my fists at her comment. I don’t relate to the idea of love. I refuse to surrender my entire existence to loving and committing to one person. But my parents? They were definitely in love. Even a blind man could see it.

I witnessed it when they were alive. They couldn’t stand being apart for long and showered that same love on my brother and me. After my father died from a heart attack when I was young, my mother couldn’t bear the loss. I saw how it changed her. She barely lasted another year before she passed away, too.

“It’s not too late to reconsider,” Zia Camilla’s voice floats through the air. “There are plenty of fine women from the right families. Ones who would—how shall I put it?—uphold the Greco legacy.” She smiles thinly. “It would be a shame for the head of the family to make the same mistake twice.”

Zia Camilla has always made her opinions about my parents’ love abundantly clear. It didn’t conform to the expectations of the Greco family. My father, the powerful head of our clan, was supposed to marry someone from our social sphere—someone wealthy, someone who would enhance the family’s status. Instead, he chose my mother—a woman from a humblebackground, quiet yet strong, who was never enough in their eyes.

Even now, years after their deaths, her disdain for my mother lingers. She can’t hide it. On the rare occasions when she tries to feign civility, her true feelings leak through in every word, glance, and action.

I meet her gaze, and the room falls silent as everyone waits for my response. I take a bite of steak and sip my wine before speaking.

“You should remember your place, Zia, or I’ll be forced to remind you,” I say, my voice sharp. “I am not my father.”

She stiffens but remains silent. The others around us shift uncomfortably. They all know I’m the one in charge here. I paid for her two daughters’ tuition at a private university in England before they eventually married influential men—again, thanks to me. She enjoys a free roof over her head and has maids at her beck and call. I provide her with a monthly allowance, just like I do for the rest of my aunts and all my cousins.

She could lose all of that in the blink of an eye. While my father was loving and kind to his family despite their ungratefulness, I won’t hesitate to cut off anyone who constantly tries to hurt me. Sure, she wouldn’t suffer in the same way if she lost everything I offer her, but she wouldn’t be able to afford her monthly vacations, her ridiculously expensive jewelry, or her membership in the elite social clubs she frequents. And if there’s one thing Zia Camilla loves more than anything, it’s her public image.

They all know this, which is why the rest have to pretend and be more subtle with their jabs. But Zia Camilla likes to push her luck, using her seniority as leverage. Yes, Italian tradition demands respect for elders, but there’s only so much I’m willing to tolerate.

“Of course,” she says, clearing her throat and swirling her wine glass. “I’m sure she’s lovely. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Leonardo lets out a snort before quickly covering it with a cough.

Dry amusement bubbles up inside me, but I keep my face impassive.

“You’ll all get to meet her soon.”

My mind flashes back to Mirabella, and a strange feeling ignites in my chest. She’ll be meeting Luca tomorrow to sign the agreement.

And then, she becomes mine.

9

MIRABELLA

My legs feel like jelly the moment I step through the doors of The Silver Key Hotel. This place is known as the most expensive hotel in New York, and I can see why. Everything around me exudes luxury, from the sparkling chandeliers above to the glossy marble floors reflecting the soft, golden light.

Never in my life did I think I would be in a place like this. My world and this world don’t mix. At all. A part of me thinks this is some sort of power move from my strange husband-to-be. He wants to show me just how wealthy he is, make me swoon, and then seal the deal once the contract is signed.

But that’s just delusional. A wealthy man like he is doesn’t have to prove anything to someone like me.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the automatic glass doors just as they slide shut behind me. I look ridiculous compared to the usual guests who frequent this place, even though I’m wearing my best black dress, a new pair of flats, and a matching black purse.

This is annoying. I’m dressed in my Sunday best, for God’s sake.

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