Page 71 of Dark Mafia Bride

Nods of agreement ripple through the room. Dante opens his mouth to say something, but just as he does, the door slides open, and I glance up—only to see Mirabella charging in, fury blazing in her eyes.

“What the?—”

“You tried to have me killed,” she shouts, her voice raw with anger. She’s shaking, her face taut with rage. She doesn’t care about the dozen pairs of eyes turning her way, doesn’t hesitate in the presence of men who’d slit her throat without a second thought.

I stand, my tone low and deadly. “What are you doing here? How the hell did you get here?”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone when I called?” Her voice slices through the room, sharp and loaded with anger. “You never,evermiss your calls, Ettore, so why now?”

“Is that what this is all about?” Ricardo’s mocking voice floats from somewhere behind me. I catch a few amused glances exchanged by some men, while others just look fed up with the drama. But their expressions barely register as Abruzzi walks in, and suddenly, everything clicks.

Without a second thought, I cross the room in two strides, grab him by the collar, and shove him hard against the wall.

“What the fuck did you do?” I snarl, tightening my grip. “I told you to stay away from my wife. Why is she here? Why did you bring her here?”

He only smirks, his face an irritating picture of calm. If anything, his grin grows wider.

“Easy there, Ettore.” He chuckles, clearly amused. “Your wife came tomeasking for help. And what kind of man would I be to turn down an offer like that?—”

Before he can finish, I drive my fist into his face. The satisfying crack of bone rings out, but it’s not enough. I hit him again, and then again, each blow doing little to quench the fury boiling inside me.

“Ettore, stop!” Mirabella’s panicked voice cuts through my rage, her soft hands gripping my arm, trying to pull me back.

I step away from Abruzzi, watching as blood pours from his nose. He coughs and spits, staining the floor with blood. Mirabella rushes toward him, but before she gets too close, I grab her arm and pull her back to me.

“Why the fuck are you defending him? And why were you with him in the first place?” My voice is loud, almost a shout, and I can’t bring myself to care.

Her eyes spark with anger, matching my own. “My house burned down today, Ettore! Did you know that?” She yells,wrenching her arm free. “My Nonna, my sister, my Mamma…” She chokes, her voice breaking, and I see the tears welling in her eyes.

“Mirabella…” I reach for her again, my tone softer, but she steps back.

“I called you. My grandmother called you, but you didn’t answer. You promised to protect us, but when my mother was trapped in that burning house, Abruzzi was the one who went in and saved her,” she screams, her words tearing into me.

Behind her, Abruzzi wipes the blood from his lip, a smug, blood-streaked grin spreading across his face.

“I saved your wife and her family, and this is the thanks I get?” he sneers, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Even for you, that’s low.”

“I told you to stay away from her,” I growl, but the anger only fuels the shame, the regret, the disgust I feel for myself.

Abruzzi doesn’t flinch. “If I hadn’t stepped in and brought Mirabella and her family to safety, you’d be waking up to breaking news by morning.Billionaire Ettore Greco loses his wife and her family in a tragic fire…” His voice is smug, every word twisting the knife deeper.

Mirabella swipes at a tear on her cheek, and my chest tightens with anger—at her, at Abruzzi, but mostly at myself.

I swore to protect her. I swore to keep her safe. Yet tonight, I’d failed her, and the bitter irony thathe—the man I warned her to stay away from—was the one who saved her digs deep, wounding my pride.

So instead of letting the jealousy, the frustration, and the self-loathing consume me, I let a bitter smile twist onto my face.

“Thanks for playing hero, Abruzzi,” I sneer. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be picking up my in-laws soon.”

A few snickers break the tense silence in the room, and that’s when I remember we have an audience. Clearly, they’ve been enjoying the drama we just performed for them.

I meet Riccardo’s gaze, and something flashes in his green eyes before he takes a step forward.

“Isabella...it’s Isabella, isn’t it?”

“Don’t speak to my wife,” I snarl, just as Mirabella snaps back.

“I’m sure you’re aware of my name.” Her words spark a few chuckles around the room, and I can see she’s too furious to appreciate me stepping in.

---