Page 98 of Dark Mafia Bride

“And I love you too, Bella.” The words feel right, feel true, like they’ve always been there just waiting to be said.

We stay like that for a while, holding each other close as the sound of the waves whispers against the shore, a soft lullaby to our tangled bodies.

My heart is still racing, my breath still heavy, but beneath it all, a different kind of tension builds. I’m thinking about the future—what comes next for us. It feels as if we’ve both been walking on a tightrope, afraid to fall, afraid to give in to what we’ve been feeling. But now, here in this moment, we’re finally letting ourselves fall.

And I realize that’s exactly what we were meant to do all along.

33

MIRABELLA

The café buzzes around me, the noise of clinking cups and low conversations barely reaching my ears as I sit across from Milo. My eyes stay glued to the laptop screen, scanning my professor’s comments for what feels like the hundredth time. I keep hoping they’ll magically change, but the words remain just as harsh, taunting me.

“Your paper would benefit from a deeper exploration of the connections between historical tensions and current policies. Without addressing these key links, your argument comes across as incomplete and lacks the depth of analysis expected at this level of study.”

The sick feeling in my stomach tightens, the words a bitter reminder that I’ve failed. I thought I’d nailed it. I’d poured hours into research, carefully structuring my thoughts, and had analyzed multiple perspectives with precision. But apparently, none of that mattered. It wasn’t enough.

I blink hard, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill, but they come anyway, blurring the words on the screen. I scroll down, hoping for a hint of something that might redeem me, but it’s just more of the same.

Milo must notice the look on my face because he leans forward, his voice a little deeper, laced with concern. “Hey, Mirabella, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head, swallowing thickly as I try to keep myself together. “I just… I messed up the last project. I—” My voice catches in my throat, and I stop. I can’t hold it in anymore. The tears come fast now, stinging the corners of my eyes. It’s not just the paper. It’s everything—the pregnancy, the highs and lows of my relationship with Ettore—it’s all too much. I feel like I’m drowning. A tear escapes, slipping down my cheek before I can stop it.

Milo leans over, close enough for me to feel the heat of his presence, and his voice softens. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just one project. You’ve got plenty of time to turn things around before the end of the semester.”

But it doesn’t feel that way. I don’t even know how to explain what I’m really struggling with. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to hold it all together, but the tears just keep falling. I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed by the sudden outburst.

Milo doesn’t hesitate. He slides in next to me, pulling me into an embrace. His warmth should be comforting, but instead, something about it feels off. I sink into the hug, hoping the closeness will provide some relief, but when his hand tightens around me, pulling me in closer, I’m hit with that unsettling feeling again—the feeling that this is more for him than just a friendly gesture.

I pull away, wiping my eyes, mortified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, his voice soft. “Everyone has rough days.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing away the tears on my cheeks. His touch lingers too long, and before I can pull back, his hand cradles my face, and his lips press against mine in a kiss that’s far too sudden and far too forceful.

For a split second, I freeze, unable to process what just happened. Then, instinct takes over. I jerk back, shoving him away with both hands.

“What the hell, Milo?!” I can’t contain the scream, my voice cutting through the café’s noise. Heads turn, but I don’t care. My heart races, a mixture of confusion, anger, and betrayal. I scoot away from him, shaking my head. “Don’t ever do that again!”

“M-Mirabella, I?—”

“No,” I cut him off, my voice shaking with fury. I grab my things, stuffing them hastily into my bag with trembling hands. “That was completely out of line. I told you there’s nothing more to this. You kissed me without my permission.”

He exhales, clearly frustrated, but his apology is too little, too late.

“I’m sorry...”

But I don’t want to hear it. Without another word, I storm out of the café, my face flushed with anger, my stomach in knots from the emotional chaos. I thought of Milo as a friend—hell, I trusted him. Why would he do something like that?

I can feel the heat of my fury simmering as I walk to the parking lot. Logan is waiting by my car, just as I’d told him to. I’d mentioned that I was meeting up with a friend to study, but now I wonder if Ettore insisted he wait for me. Something about it doesn’t sit right, and the feeling lingers like a bad taste in my mouth.

I slip into the backseat, the familiar hum of the car engine starting up, but instead of giving Logan the address to my place, I tell him to head to Giovanni and Alessia’s house. The drive is quiet, the twenty minutes stretching out as I try to ignore the whirlwind of emotions in my head. When we finally pull up in front of their building, I don’t waste any time. I climb out of the car and head for the front door.

Before I even get a chance to knock, Giovanni answers the door, his eyes immediately locking onto my flushed face and the puffiness around my eyes.

“What did he do?” His voice is low, protective—almost a growl, and it’s impossible to miss.

I try to brush it off, forcing a weak laugh that escapes despite the heaviness weighing on my chest. I’m touched by his outburst, but I can’t help but wonder if he really thinks he could go toe-to-toe with Ettore.

“Ettore didn’t do anything to me.”

---