Page 49 of Dark Mafia Bride

“I’m not negotiatingwith you, you asshole.” I so am but I can’t let him think for one second that I’m desperate, that I’m actually considering his terms. No. I need him to believe that I’m still the one in control, that he hasn’t worn me down yet.

I straighten my back, putting on a mask of defiance, even though I’m already calculating every move in my mind.He can’t know I’m thinking about this. Not yet. I have to make him think he still holds the power.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I add, my voice biting, “and I sure as hell won’t just roll over for you.” I make the words sound as if they’re coming from a place of pure indignation, though the truth is, I’m already weighing the options. He may have the power right now, but I won’t stay trapped like this forever. Not if I can help it.

He smirks, the bastard. “I don’t see how you have a choice, Kitten. As soon as we walk down that aisle, I won’t be so gracious,” he warns, his smirk infuriating me further.

“I am not?—”

He tsk-tsks me, cutting me off. “Time is ticking.”

I take a deep breath, my heart racing. “I want my own room. That’s non-negotiable.”

Ettore doesn’t flinch. Instead, he watches me with unnerving focus, studying my every word, my every move. “Is that really what you want? Your own room?” he asks, his voice a low rumble of curiosity, as if he’s toying with me.

I nod, meeting his gaze head-on. He knows I’m thinking about that night. I can see it in the way his gaze flickers for just a moment, the darkness in his eyes deepening. But like the mischievous bastard I’ve come to know him for, he’s not about to let me see just how affected he is by this conversation. He’s turning the heat away from himself, deflecting the tension and regaining control of the moment.

“Yes.”

Ettore’s eyes darken with something dangerous, and for a moment, I wonder if he is actually going to acknowledge the elephant in the room. But then he simply smirks, that same cold amusement playing across his features. “Done, Mirabella,” he says softly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“And I want to go back to college,” I say, my voice unwavering. “I’m not going to be sidelined in this marriage, Ettore. I won’t let you keep me from finishing my education, from having a life outside of this. I’ll make sure of it.”

He leans in closer, his expression shifting from annoyance to curiosity. “You still think this whole thing is about me somehow sidelining you? Keeping you in my shadow?”

“Yes,” I insist, holding his gaze. “With the less-than-honorable way you went about this whole thing, it’s pretty glaring what your intent was. You don’t do something like this unless you want control.”

“I see,” he says, his voice oddly neutral, and for the briefest moment, I think I detect a hint of sadness in his gaze. But it’s gone before it can register fully, replaced by the steely resolve I’ve come to expect from him.

“Yes,” I repeat, my steady and firm tone, “I need my independence, even in this arrangement.”

Ettore studies me for a moment, his demeanor softening just a fraction. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you?”

“I have to be,” I reply, my voice steady. “If I’m going to survive this, I need to stand my ground. You’re not the only one who gets to make demands.”

“Very well. Done, too.”

I take a slow breath, the weight of this arrangement sinking in deeper. If I’m going to be stuck in this life, then I’ll make damned sure I have something to show for it. “And my family will be kept safe. No questions asked.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Of course. Is that all?”

“For now, yes.”

“Good,” he says smoothly. “Now listen to my terms. You are not obligated to perform any...wifely duties outside of the public eye. Nothing will be forced upon you. But in public, you will act the part of the perfect wife. You’ll be convincing.”

I nod, feeling the weight of each demand settle around me.

“As outlined in the contract,” Ettore continues, his voice smooth, calculated, “you’ll receive one million dollars that will clear your debts, cover your mother’s surgery, and give you financial freedom. But, most importantly,” he adds, leaning in slightly, his eyes hardening, “you’ll have my protection from Abruzzi. Make no mistake—he won’t let you go easily. Even if you manage to pay off your debt, there’s no escaping him. You’ll always be on his radar. But with me, you’re safe. For as long as you’re my wife, he wouldn’t dare start a war with The Reaper by touching you.”

His eyes bore into mine, and I can tell he means every word.

I know Ettore is right, but a scoff escapes my lips at his calculated bluntness. There’s not a drop of sincerity in him.

“Lastly, the contract lasts for a year. After that, you’re free to go.”

I inhale, holding the breath for a moment before releasing it. One year. One year, and this will be over.

“Fine,” I murmur, resigned.

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