Page 61 of Dark Mafia Bride

But then, someone interrupts him, and I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Moments later, the race begins. I try to focus on the field, but the atmosphere is overwhelming—the loud cheers as the horses take off, the announcer’s booming voice over the loudspeaker, and the constant buzz of conversation swirl around me. It’s a sensory overload. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washes over me. Everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

And that’s when I see him.

Matteo Abruzzi.

He stands in the midst of a small crowd just behind the metal track rail. Dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and sleek black pants, Abruzzi’s attention is locked on the race before him. For a moment, I freeze. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since I paid him off. My heart falters, and his warning about Ettore rushes back into my mind.

In the past seven days, no reminder of how dangerous Ettore could be has crossed my mind. He has been nothing but kind. So far, he’s kept his promises to me and my family—except for the sharing a bedroom part, which I’m still a bit annoyed about. He’s opened doors to a world I never thought I’d see, but just the sight of Abruzzi sends my doubts and fears bubbling back to the surface.

Suddenly, I feel a cold splash on my dress. Liquid trickles down my skin, jolting me back to reality.

“Signora, I’m so sorry!” A waiter with empty champagne glasses hovers above me, panic etched on his face as I look up at him. “Let me help you clean up.”

“It’s fine,” I mutter, brushing him off. I need air. The dizziness is intensifying, and my head is spinning. “Just tell me there’s a bathroom around here.”

He gestures vaguely to an area behind the grandstand, but I’m already pushing myself to my feet and walking away as he stammers about the location. I maneuver through the crowd, ignoring the distant roar of the race behind me.

The world blurs as I stumble out onto the back of the track field, clutching the nearby wall for support. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but it doesn’t help. Nausea rises in my throat, threatening to overwhelm me.

“Mirabella.” A familiar voice cuts through the haze.

I open my eyes to see Abruzzi approaching, concern etched on his face as he steps closer. “You don’t look well. Let me help you.”

I instinctively take a step back. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“Listen, I mean no harm,” he offers, his tone dripping with insincerity, “I can take care of you until you feel better. Or call someone. I have a personal doctor I trust.”

“Like you took care of me last time?” I shoot back, remembering how he sent his goons to hunt me down the last time. “You think I’d trust you again after what you did?”

His eyes narrow, but a smirk creeps onto his lips. “You didn’t seem to mind my help then. It’s not too late to reconsider.”

I scoff, trying to brush him off. “What do you want, Abruzzi?”

“Just to make sure you’re safe.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Tell me, has Ettore even bothered to look for you since you left the party?”

“Why would he?” I challenge, though a seed of doubt takes root in my mind. “He’s probably busy.”

“Busy? Or indifferent?” Abruzzi presses, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s only a matter of time before something worse happens. You should know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you sitting all alone. Did he leave you, his vulnerable wife, to attend to more pressing matters?”

I want to snap back that I have a bodyguard, but that would only play into whatever twisted game he’s trying to play. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest, feeling slightly better now that I’ve gotten some fresh air.

“Why are you really here? Why pretend to care about me? You’ve already shown me the monster you are.”

Abruzzi’s lips curl into a faint smile, a mix of amusement and something darker. “I only want to protect you, Mirabella. You deserve better than this. This man...he’s only going to drag you into deeper trouble.”

“And what? You’re suddenly worried enough to warn me?” I hiss, my agitation rising. I’m done with the doubts, the mind games, and the lies.

“Ettore Greco is powerful,” he continues, his tone lowering, almost conspiratorial. “That means he has powerful enemies. Enemies who want to strike at him by hitting him where it hurts most. What better way to bring down a man than by attacking his newlywed wife?”

“Stop it!” I snap, shaking my head. “You’re trying to manipulate me, and it won’t work.”

“I’m not manipulating you, Mirabella. I’m trying to help you see the truth.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate level. “Open your eyes. If you stay with him, you could become collateral damage in a dangerous game. Think about that.”

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