Page 57 of Dark Mafia Bride

I freeze, slowly turning to face Zia Camila. Her lips curl into a knowing smirk, as if she’s savoring the moment, and the women beside her lean in, their eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and malice.

I scoff inwardly, realizing they’ve been anticipating this since the announcement of my marriage to their beloved nephew—ready to ambush me, eager to witness my discomfort.

Too bad I’m not in the mood for their games.

As I fold my arms across my chest, preparing for a confrontation, I can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of the year—enduring their condescension and judgement at every turn.

I was ready to escape into some much-needed rest, but it appears the night is far from over. In fact, this...this seems to be the opening act of what’s to come.

18

ETTORE

The chatter around the room slowly fades, replaced by the soft strains of classical music drifting through the speakers.

“We’ve heard whispers about your plan to expand the Greco Empire,” a voice cuts through the ambiance.

I take a slow sip from my whiskey glass, aware of the keen eyes on me. Somehow, between greeting guests, I’ve found myself knee-deep in a business conversation on my wedding day. Technically, this wedding is a strategic business move, designed to solidify alliances. I expected to connect with investors and associates today, but no man wants to debate business plans for hours on his wedding day, even if the said wedding is fake.

When I don’t reply right away, Stefano Sanchez, the man who asked the question, presses further. “You’ve been tight-lipped about your next move, Greco. Word on the street is you’re looking to expand your hotel business.”

I nod, maintaining a neutral expression. “Something like that.”

In my world, secrets rarely stay hidden for long. People become curious; they can’t help themselves. When they don’t get confirmation, they leap to conclusions, often missing the mark but sometimes getting uncomfortably close to the truth.

Bruno Ramirez, an oil tycoon I’m interested to bring on board, raises an eyebrow, intrigue flickering in his eyes. “That’s intriguing. Are you planning to acquire new hotels or invest in established ones? What’s your angle here?”

I take another sip of my drink, allowing the silence to linger a moment longer. “I’m looking at acquiring some existing properties—major chains, recognized names, expanding into new states. That’s the gist of my plan.”

“I know you, Ettore,” Bruno chuckles, leaning in. “You’re aiming to own them outright, correct?”

I smirk, shaking my head. “More like strategic partnerships that benefit everyone involved.”

They don’t need to know every detail. In business, the art of saying less is crucial. I don’t plan to partner with Stefano or Bruno on this project just yet, so the finer points remain under wraps. I want them to see me as a businessman making a power move in the hotel industry. What they don’t realize is that this isn’t just about acquiring properties. It’s a game many play, and longevity isn’t something everyone understands.

My expansion project aims to reshape the industry. I plan to buy out or invest in the best hotels nationwide, gaining control by holding the majority of stakes. The Greco Empire my father left behind won’t merely be a player in hospitality and investment—it will embody luxury, exclusivity, and power.

Bruno looks skeptical, his brow furrowing. “And you really think these hotel chains will sell? Some of them are decades old, deeply rooted.”

“They’ll sell,” I reply, my voice steady. “Everyone has a price.”

What they don’t know is that I’ve been laying the groundwork for this for years. My investments, my connections—have all been building toward this moment. Now, with the public image of a devoted family man, the kind of person investors trust, I’ve got the final piece in place. By the time they figure it out, I’ll be steering the largest hotel empire in the country.

Stefano chuckles, shaking his head with amusement. “Always dreaming big, aren’t you, Greco?”

I flash him a tight smile. “You know me.”

As the conversation drifts to topics like Bruno’s upcoming shipments from China and the deal Stefano wants to finalize with some Germans, my mind drifts elsewhere.

To her. My wife. Mirabella.

Just then, I spot Luca heading toward us from the crowd. From the look on his face, I can sense that something is wrong.

“I think you may want to see what’s going on inside, boss,” he whispers.

His words raise alarm bells in my mind, and I turn to glance at the towering building behind us.

“Sorry, gentlemen,” I say, clearing my throat. “Our conversation will have to end here. I appreciate you coming to my wedding, and I’ll catch up with you soon.”

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