Page 3 of Mafia Daddy

Their eyes follow me as I make my way to one of my favorite rooms in the mansion—the library.

I’ve visited many libraries but none can compare to this. The library is quite large and the room is circular with a high ceiling supported by marble columns that have been sculpted intricately. Rows of shelves curve themselves to fit into the shape of the room, and they spiral to the center of the room where a round mahogany table and four high-back chairs stand. The lights in the library are sparkling white, almost blue, and they cast beautiful shadows in the room.

I leave the library with a smile and head into the dining hall. The hall is still as grand as I remember it, and old memories of garden parties pass through my mind. When my mother was still alive, she liked dressing up and socializing. So we had grand parties at least twice a month.

The dining hall is spacious with high ceilings and dropping chandeliers, and there are two marbled fireplaces on both sides of the hall. The floor is made of rich polished marble tiles.

A large bay window overlooks the meticulously manicured gardens outside, allowing the soft rays of sunlight to dance upon the table. The garden is in full view from the window. In the distance, a stone pathway winds through vibrant flower beds of lilies, roses, sunflowers, and posies, each bloom seemingly more captivating than the last. I used to sit at the gazebo and just stare at those flowers for hours.

I continue my exploration of the rooms and corridors of the mansion, the magnificent size of this old stone mansion still leaves me awestruck even after all these years.

The building is like a labyrinth, with hidden rooms and secret passageways that I spent countless hours exploring when I was younger. In some rooms, the walls are lined with priceless works of art, and the floors are covered in plush and expensive carpets that muffle my footsteps.

I’m still wandering around the mansion, taking in the ornate furnishings and grandiose designs that I had forgotten when I see him.

My fiancé.

He stands at the end of the large hallway, seemingly engrossed in conversation with a person that looks to be his subordinate. His attention shifts from the man to my direction, and the moment he sights me, his face lights up in a crooked sort of smile. My heart sinks. I never thought I’d end up with someone like him.

"Ah, there you are," he says, his voice is hoarse and raspy, and it scratches the inside of my ears. It’s not like Carlo's voice, which is so deep and smooth, like the wave of rolling waters.

Oh, God. Why am I thinking of him right now?

"I was wondering when you'd show up," my fiancé, Lucas, says and beckons for me to join him at the end of the hall. Begrudgingly, with all my nerves on end, I move to meet him. With every step I take, I feel like I’m heading to an execution.

I feel a knot forming in my stomach as I get closer to Lucas. Is this the man I'm going to marry? He’s tall and massive with a paunch, three times my size, I think. Thinning hair and sideburns. He’s profusely sweating even when it’s not too hot.

He eyes my body up and down hungrily, like a lion looking at a piece of meat, and the look he throws me makes me squirm uncomfortably. He looks like he’s in his fifties, give or take. As I get closer to him, I can smell the foul scent of cigarettes and whisky. I mentally pat my back for not covering my nose.

I try to keep the disgust out of my voice. "Hello, sir.”

"Nonsense. Call me Lucas. We’ll be married soon, you know," he says as he licks his lips. It takes everything in me to not gag at how repulsive he is. "We have a lot of planning to do, and I don't have any time to waste. I'm sure you're excited to see me after all this while."

His tone is dismissive like he’s doing me a favor for marrying me.

I try to force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. "Yes, of course. It's great to see you."

He moves towards me and snakes an arm around my waist. I almost flinch when he whispers, "You look beautiful as always. I can't wait to make you mine."

My stomach churns at his words, and I hurriedly remove myself from his hold and take a step back, trying to maintain a polite distance. "Actually, I’m really tired. I've had a long flight."

"Nonsense," he shakes his head. "You can sleep all you want later. I’m a busy man, you know, so much busier than you."

Anger flares inside me, but I hold my tongue and say nothing, giving Lucas a slight nod and keeping a straight face. I don’t want to make a scene. I promised my father I would be on my best behavior with Lucas.

Lucas leads us through the mansion, prattling on about his business ventures and his competitors. He’s definitely someone who likes the sound of his own voice. He keeps on talking about himself. I let him but I tune him out.

Besides, I’m more than happy with not being required to respond until he says something that makes my irritation flare.

"You know, I don't understand why you women bother studying or pursuing a career. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove," he says with a nasty chuckle. "At the end of the day, you all know your worth is tied to marriage and how well you manage your home and bear children. You're going to be my wife soon, so you’ll experience all that and more."

I let out a small gasp as I stare at him, shocked beyond measure. How can he say something like that? I knew we weren’t marrying out of love, but am I nothing more than a trophy to him? Manage his home and bear his children? What year does he think it is?

"Excuse me?" I bristle, my voice high and shaking with fury. To hell with not causing a scene, I’ll burn down the walls of this house if it comes to that.

It’s either he doesn't notice my anger or he does but doesn't even care, and the thought angers me even more. He shrugs nonchalantly and smiles, flashing his yellowed teeth. "I'm just saying, you could’ve stayed home and been more useful here, helped a little with the family business, and obeyed your father. Instead, you chose to go to another country for years and wasted your time following dreams." He laughs but it turns into a coughing fit. He waves it off as if I’m remotely worried about him. "It's not like you'd be needing any of that knowledge when we're married."

The anger in me swells and I feel my face turn beet red. I did not study and succeed academically to have someone look down on me like this.

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