Page 94 of Dark Mafia Bride

I’m terrified that if I tell you, it might be the end of whatever this is between us. I can’t risk you hating me or pushing me away before we even get a chance to see where this could go.

I don’t say any of that out loud, though. I can’t. And I pray to God that he doesn’t suddenly develop the ability to read my thoughts.

He nods, still a bit tense, then looks at Maria. “I talked to the locals. Those men won’t bother you or anyone else here again.” His voice is calm, but there’s a protective edge to it that makes my chest tighten.

Ettore steps away to call a taxi for Maria, and as he does, I feel her eyes on me. She glances between me and Ettore, then gives me a mischievous smile. “Is he your husband?” she asks, her eyes glinting with curiosity. She looks down at the ring on my finger before I can answer. “Ah I see. You’re a lucky woman. He never stopped watching you.”

I laugh softly. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?” I ask, smiling as she nods, a little shyly.

“Not always. But I thought you deserved to know since you saved my life,” she replies. “I’m glad you’re with someone who looks that worried when something bad happens.” She pauses, her lips curling into a small smile, a faraway look in her eyes. “My poppa used to look at my momma like that before he passed. It means he loves you.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I feel a wave of guilt crash over me.

I know what Maria means, but I also know the truth is more complicated. Ettore may look at me with that same intensity, but it’s not love—not the way she sees it. Not the way I want it to be.

I can’t exactly tell her that my marriage isn’t real, that the man I’m with—the one who looks at me so fiercely, so protectively—isn’t really my husband. Not in the way she imagines. I can’t tell her that our marriage is a lie, that it’s built on a contract and promises that mean nothing once the ink dries.

I can’t tell her that it’s beginning to feel real—tooreal. Even though we’ve only had sex once, we’ve shared moments, quiet and intense, that feel like they’ve forged something between us.

The way he holds me, the way he touches me, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. It’s as if we’ve been together for years, not just months.

These moments, these gestures, feel more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. They’re more than just physical. They reach deeper, into a place where words can’t follow. And I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or the time we’ve spent together, but everything is happening in a way I’m not ready for.

But most of all, I can’t say that I’m carrying his child. With every passing day, I wish I could tell him, wish I could share this part of myself with him, but it’s not that simple.

What if he doesn’t want this child? What if the truth destroys everything, as fragile as it already is?

I shake off the heavy thoughts and force a chuckle, trying to sound light. “I’m glad I met you today, Maria. You remind me of one big-hearted girl I’d go to the ends of the earth for.”

She smirks, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll do the same for you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. People like you are rare. I know how many tourists would’ve just looked the other way if they saw me in that situation. You didn’t even hesitate. You just stepped right in.”

Her words hit me harder than I expect. She’s sharp for someone her age—just like Giulia.

“Well, my Nonna taught me some self-defense when I was growing up. She always said, ‘Never run from a fight.’”

Maria grins. “She sure sounds cool, just like you.”

Before I can reply, Ettore pulls up with a taxi. I give Maria a quick wave, my voice struggling to stay steady. “Take care, okay?” I call, trying to sound normal. I can’t let her see how much I feel like I’m on the edge of losing everything.

She waves back, and as the taxi pulls away, her words linger in my mind.He never stopped watching you.

Part of me wants to believe it—wants to hold on to the hope that maybe this could be real, that Ettore could love me, that this could somehow turn into something more than a contract, more than a duty. But then the other part of me—the part that knows the truth, the part that remembers the coldness of our arrangement—reminds me of what’s coming.

Soon, the contract will expire. And then what?

I feel Ettore’s presence beside me as we start walking back to the cabin, and I try to smile, but it’s not easy. He notices the change in me immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern. But before he can ask any questions, I pull him in for a kiss, then suggest we get some shut eye.

The moment stretches out between us before Ettore finally breaks the silence. “Are you sure everything is fine?”

“I’m okay,” I say, my voice a little too quiet.

He doesn’t buy it. I know he doesn’t. But he doesn’t push. He just walks beside me, the air between us heavy with unspoken words.

And for the first time in a long time, I wish I didn’t have to keep pretending.

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