Page 52 of Dark Mafia Bride

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was playing my part, just like you.”

A flicker of something dark passes through his gaze, gone before I can decipher it. “You’re a natural, then. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure our all public scenes are just as convincing.”

My jaw tightens, and I give him a withering look. “Don’t get comfortable, Ettore. This arrangement may force me to act the part, but it doesn’t mean I have to feel it.”

He glances down at me with that same unreadable expression. “Ready for the rest of our show, Mrs. Greco?”

I force a tight smile, my voice low so only he can hear. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Greco.”

I force a smile, plastering it over the flush on my cheeks, but every nerve in my body is acutely aware of how close he is, of thelingering heat from that kiss that should’ve been nothing more than a show. A kiss that felt too real, too consuming.

How can I keep my promise to myself? How can I make sure that a kiss like the one we just shared, and any further entanglement, never happens again?

One year. Just one year.

I’ll play my part to perfection—but never again will I let him make me forget that this is nothing but a deal.

16

ETTORE

Iam a married man.

That’s all I can think of as Mirabella and I walk through the large garden of the Greco estate where the wedding reception is being held. Flowers of different colors and variety line the paved path, their fragrance mingling with the cool evening breeze and the twinkling lights above.

It’s been only a few minutes since our first dance, and we’re now mingling with guests, greeting them as we move. They fill up the round tables in clusters, dressed impeccably and chatting animatedly with one another. Waiters in crisp uniforms glide through the crowd, balancing champagne flutes and elegant plates. The gentle hum of classical music and the soft clink of glasses float through the air, creating an atmosphere of effortless elegance.

I glance down at the woman on my arm. When I saw her walking down the aisle earlier, it felt like something out of a dream. She’s changed now from the wedding gown into a simpler yet stunning dress. The soft light from the hanging lanterns dances on the satin fabric as she moves, her grace and beauty almost surreal. As we greet the guests, I keep catchingmyself stealing glances, wishing—no, craving—that we could slip away, just the two of us.

I’ve been wanting that ever since we shared that fiery kiss at the altar.

“Mr. Greco.” A voice cuts through my thoughts.

I look up to see Valentina Romano, a well-known reporter with her own TV show, here to cover our wedding tonight. I suppress a sigh. I’d agreed to allow filming at the reception thanks to Aldo and Zia Camilla’s urging, but the idea of cameras constantly in our faces doesn’t exactly thrill me. Yet for a wedding like ours, it’s inevitable.

I lean down to Mirabella. “Try not engage them for long,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She lets out a quiet huff, but as Valentina approaches with her camera crew, a dazzling smile spreads across her face, almost transforming her.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Greco,” Valentina says as she steps up to us. “The wedding is absolutely breathtaking. So, Ettore—how does it feel finally being married, especially after holding the title of most-wanted bachelor in the country?”

I chuckle softly. “It feels incredible. Nothing can compare to this,” I say, turning to look at Mirabella with a gaze that’s almost too easy to feign. “I’ve married the love of my life. There’s nothing else I could possibly want.”

Valentina arches an eyebrow, clearly curious. “And how did you two meet? You’ve kept that part a mystery.”

I smile, a touch of mischief in my eyes. “It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. We met through mutual friends, and I’m not one to believe in love at first sight...but with Mirabella, I was proven wrong.” I shrug casually, the answer just vague enough to satisfy. “It was one of those things that just…clicked.”

Valentina nods, satisfied with my answer, though I can see the curiosity still lingering in her eyes. It’s clear she’s trying topiece it together—how Ettore Greco, the most eligible bachelor, suddenly gets married out of the blue. But the look in my eyes, and the certainty in my voice, are enough to push any further questions aside.

Mirabella blushes, and I can’t tell if it’s real or part of the act. The camera zooms in on us, capturing the moment that will probably be regarded as the most romantic moment in the history of elite weddings. I can already imagine the pictures that will grace the front covers of magazines, with various headlines and comments of people calling itThe Wedding of the Year.

Valentina’s grin widens, and it’s obviously she’s satisfied with my answer. She turns to look at Mirabella, and her tone shifts just slightly as she directs the next question to my wife.

“And you, Mirabella? The world issocurious about how you and Ettore found each other. After all, it’s quite a leap, from everyday life to this world of opulence.”

I feel my stomach drop. Where’s she going with this?

But before I can intervene, Mirabella starts. “Well, Ettore and I are really quite new at this?—”

---