Page 86 of Dark Mafia Bride

I suppress a smile and meet her sharp gaze. “You seem to have a lot on your mind, Nonna. Care to share?”

“How long did my granddaughter know you before you dragged her into this...union?” she shoots back.

“Long enough to know I wanted her in my life,” I reply easily, and she huffs in response.

“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you? Is that part of the Greco package?”

“Nonna,” Mirabella sighs, shooting her a slightly pleading look. “Can we maybe save the sarcasm for another time?”

“No harm done,” I say with a smile, which only seems to make her even more irate.

We settle back into the movie, and just as a suspenseful scene builds, the lights flicker off in the film. The music swells,and the character finally opens a door she was running toward to reveal...nothing. Silence envelopes the scene until, out of nowhere, a hand reaches out from the shadows to slit the girl’s throat.

“She deserved that,” Giulia mutters at the same time Nonna sighs. “How many of them are left now?”

Mirabella jumps slightly, and I take advantage of that to pull her into my arms. She stiffens for a split second before relaxing into my embrace.

“Scared?” I murmur in her ear, catching a whiff of her strawberry-scented shampoo.

“No. You?” She asks softly.

I slide my arm around her waist. “What do you think?”

Mirabella doesn’t respond, but I feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes heavily.

Minutes pass and the movie concludes on an annoying note—no one survives.

The next film features a Halloween-themed party that spirals into chaos as a spirit haunting the house possesses the partygoers. Great concept, but the execution falls flat. Nonna grumbles, “Another silly ghost film where no character has a survival instinct,” while Giulia leans forward, completely engrossed.

Minutes tick by, and in another infuriating note—no one survives.

At some point during the movie, I notice how at ease I feel. Mirabella’s family seems relaxed and comfortable in a way I haven’t witnessed in my own household. My family? We’re tense in every situation, and each gathering is an exercise in business and social appearances. Even the obligatory dinners at the dining table do little to unite us. Instead, they become a battleground for sharp jabs and accusations.

But here, it’s clear they love each other unconditionally. They might bicker or disagree, but they are relaxed in each other’s presence. The thought stirs something deep within me—an ache for laughter and carefree moments, a longing for a warmth I’ve never truly known, especially since my parents passed away.

As the film plays on, Giulia can’t help but interject with humorous commentary after every plot twist, while Nonna remains with her arms crossed, muttering critiques under her breath.

I feel a sudden coldness seep through my chest when Mirabella leans away from me and gets on her feet. Her phone buzzes in her hand, and she smiles as she stares down at the screen. As she walks away while tapping on the screen, I can’t ignore the grin that’s curling on her lips. My chest tightens with curiosity and a pang of jealousy, and before I can think it through, I stand and follow her out of the room.

She’s leaning against the kitchen counter when I catch up, and before she notices my presence, I sneak up behind her and swipe the phone from her hand.

She gasps, spinning around. “Ettore...”

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” I ask, flipping the phone over in my hands, pretending to read whatever’s on the screen.

Her eyes widen, and a flush creeps up her cheeks. “Ettore, give that back.” She glances toward the living room, her voice dropping to a hush.

I grin, slipping the phone into my back pocket and closing the space between us. She gasps again, but for a different reason now as I cage her against the counter, my hands planted on either side of her.

“Beg me,” I say, my voice dipping low. Her breath hitches, and I can feel her pulse quicken as I lean in.

“Ettore...” Her voice is a whisper—part warning, part moan.

“Just say the magic words, Bella,” I murmur against her lips, feeling myself harden as my hands slide along the sides of her slip dress. I trail my fingers over her waist, then down to squeeze her ass.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper.

I steal her next breath away by lowering my mouth to meet hers. She moans the moment our lips touch and reaches for me, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt to pull me even closer. My hands tighten on her ass while her fingers dig into my shoulder before sliding up into my hair.

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