Page 39 of Dark Mafia Bride

But I snap out of it when I glance at the clock and realize I only have thirty minutes to leave this house. Thirty minutes until Luca arrives to drive me to the cathedral, where I will be wed.

My hands move frantically, pulling Clara out of her maid’s uniform and slip it over my body. It’s a bit tight—she’s smaller than I am—but it will have to do. I grab a blanket from the bed and cover her, as she’s only wearing a sports bra and shorts.

As I look back at the mirror, my breath catches when I see the diamonds dangling from my ears. Quickly, I remove all the jewelry and drop it onto the vanity. Then, I bundle my silky, styled hair into the maid’s bonnet, rip off the false lashes from my eyes, and put on a face mask I grabbed from Clara’s cleaning supplies. I take my phone from my bag in the closet and slip it into the uniform pocket.

With one last look at Clara, I’m out the door. My hands shake, but I push the panic down. I can do this. I just have to blend in. Keep my head low. Act like I belong here.

The hallways buzz with activity as I descend the stairs. My eyes dart around to make sure no one is watching me, and I’m relieved to see everyone busy with their tasks to make the wedding a success.

When I near the front door of the lobby, one of the maids—thankfully not Paula, who I think would recognize I’m not Clara—spots me.

“Where are you going? There’s a lot of work to be done,” she exclaims, hands on her hips.

“Errand for the bride,” I mutter, mimicking Clara’s soft yet hurried tone.

With a huff, she walks away, and my heart pounds in my ears as I step out of the house and into the compound. The fresh air hits my face, making me giddy. I’ve almost made it out. I’m not successful yet, though—I still have to navigate the large grounds, but I’m halfway there.

The estate looks even more intimidating under the morning light. Perfectly trimmed hedges, towering fountains, and endless rows of trees stretch out before me. Not to mention the highfences that surround the space, reminding me that I might never escape.

But I will.

I speed through the stone pathways, hearing the soft crunch of gravel beneath Clara’s flat shoes—thank God we wear the same size. Every step echoes my racing heart. The gate is still far ahead, and I struggle to breathe under the face mask, but I push forward.

As I approach the front gates, the two security guards on duty eye me with confusion. I swallow hard as I near them.

“Where are you headed?” one of them asks, his sharp eyes scanning my uniform.

“There was a last-minute change in the flower arrangement,” I say, trying to keep my breath steady. “I’ve been sent to pick up the peonies that will be added to the flowers.” The words tumble out, and I hope I don’t stumble.

“Why did they send you?” the bald-headed guard asks, skepticism in his tone.

I bite my lip, tempted to ask,‘Should they have sent you instead?’until I remember I’m not Mirabella. I’m Clara.

“I’m on bridal duty,” I explain quickly, “and everyone else in the house is busy, including Mrs. Camilla, Francesca, and Marta.”

I give myself a mental high-five for remembering the names Clara casually mentioned yesterday during her chat with Paula. Just a tiny victory, but I cling to it—one piece of control in this whole twisted arrangement. Clara had been talking about Ettore’s aunts, gossiping over wedding details and family quirks, giving me the clues I needed to connect faces to names.

The memory of those two women from my first day here flashes through my mind. One with a hard stare, the other with a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ettore’s familyisn’t just a name on paper anymore—they’re real people, allies or enemies, and I’m marrying into the whole tangled web.

“They want it picked up from Fior di Luna,” I add, naming an exclusive flower store in the city that only caters to the wealthy. It’s a good enough excuse, believable for a family like this.

The guards exchange glances, but I keep my head down, trying my best to mimic Clara’s gentle, polite manner. “I really need to hurry back,” I add softly, letting a hint of nervousness show in my voice. “They told me to be back before the ceremony starts.”

“I’ll have a driver take you,” the first guard says, reaching for his walkie-talkie.

Crap. I didn’t think of that.

“Oh, no need!” I blurt out quickly. “They already sent a driver.” I say it with just enough urgency that he pauses. Seriously, though? Is it really necessary to call for a driver that fast?

As the guards look at me, my mind races. What if they ask why a driver would come without the flowers if I’m supposed to be picking them up? What if they ask me any other insider questions I can’t answer?

He studies me a second longer, then mutters something under his breath and pushes open the small side gate. “Fine,” he says.

Holy crap. It actually worked.

“Be back soon,” he warns, sounding a little skeptical. “I don’t know what’s going on in that house, but I know the boss is gonna flip if this wedding has any hiccups.”

Behind him, the bald guard chuckles. “Yeah, still can’t believe the boss is getting married. Pedro said he saw her when she arrived—said she’s real pretty, too…”

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