Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)
Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 16

I am a married man.

That’s all I can think of as Mirabella and I walk through the large garden of the Greco estate where the wedding reception is being held. Flowers of different colors and variety line the paved path, their fragrance mingling with the cool evening breeze and the twinkling lights above.

It’s been only a few minutes since our first dance, and we’re now mingling with guests, greeting them as we move. They fill up the round tables in clusters, dressed impeccably and chatting animatedly with one another. Waiters in crisp uniforms glide through the crowd, balancing champagne flutes and elegant plates. The gentle hum of classical music and the soft clink of glasses float through the air, creating an atmosphere of effortless elegance.

I glance down at the woman on my arm. When I saw her walking down the aisle earlier, it felt like something out of a dream. She’s changed now from the wedding gown into a simpler yet stunning dress. The soft light from the hanging lanterns dances on the satin fabric as she moves, her grace and beauty almost surreal. As we greet the guests, I keep catching myself stealing glances, wishing—no, craving—that we could slip away, just the two of us.

I’ve been wanting that ever since we shared that fiery kiss at the altar.

“Mr. Greco.” A voice cuts through my thoughts.

I look up to see Valentina Romano, a well-known reporter with her own TV show, here to cover our wedding tonight. I suppress a sigh. I’d agreed to allow filming at the reception thanks to Aldo and Zia Camilla’s urging, but the idea of cameras constantly in our faces doesn’t exactly thrill me. Yet for a wedding like ours, it’s inevitable.

I lean down to Mirabella. “Try not engage them for long,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She lets out a quiet huff, but as Valentina approaches with her camera crew, a dazzling smile spreads across her face, almost transforming her.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Greco,” Valentina says as she steps up to us. “The wedding is absolutely breathtaking. So, Ettore—how does it feel finally being married, especially after holding the title of most-wanted bachelor in the country?”

I chuckle softly. “It feels incredible. Nothing can compare to this,” I say, turning to look at Mirabella with a gaze that’s almost too easy to feign. “I’ve married the love of my life. There’s nothing else I could possibly want.”

Valentina arches an eyebrow, clearly curious. “And how did you two meet? You’ve kept that part a mystery.”

I smile, a touch of mischief in my eyes. “It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. We met through mutual friends, and I’m not one to believe in love at first sight…but with Mirabella, I was proven wrong.” I shrug casually, the answer just vague enough to satisfy. “It was one of those things that just…clicked.”

Valentina nods, satisfied with my answer, though I can see the curiosity still lingering in her eyes. It’s clear she’s trying to piece it together—how Ettore Greco, the most eligible bachelor, suddenly gets married out of the blue. But the look in my eyes, and the certainty in my voice, are enough to push any further questions aside.

Mirabella blushes, and I can’t tell if it’s real or part of the act. The camera zooms in on us, capturing the moment that will probably be regarded as the most romantic moment in the history of elite weddings. I can already imagine the pictures that will grace the front covers of magazines, with various headlines and comments of people calling it The Wedding of the Year.

Valentina’s grin widens, and it’s obviously she’s satisfied with my answer. She turns to look at Mirabella, and her tone shifts just slightly as she directs the next question to my wife.

“And you, Mirabella? The world is so curious about how you and Ettore found each other. After all, it’s quite a leap, from everyday life to this world of opulence.”

I feel my stomach drop. Where’s she going with this?

But before I can intervene, Mirabella starts. “Well, Ettore and I are really quite new at this⁠—”

“Oh, of course,” Valentina interjects with a smooth, practiced charm, her gaze lingering on Mirabella with a polite curiosity. “But I think everyone would love to hear about the journey, Mirabella—the transition from a more private life to one that’s so…in the public eye. And stepping into this world of such prestige…it must feel like quite an adventure, yes?”

I know instantly that Zia Camilla’s hand is all over this, feeding Valentina the intrusive question. The insinuation hangs in the air, as sharp and as thin as a knife. I feel Mirabella’s grip on my hand tighten, her body going rigid beside me, and the fury boils up in me.

Before I can respond, Mirabella lifts her chin, her voice steady and calm. “It’s certainly a different world, but Ettore makes it feel like home.”

Her words are simple, yet defiant. But Valentina isn’t done.

“And do you worry, Mrs. Greco, about how others may perceive you?”

Mirabella’s lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “Not at all,” she replies, tilting her head. “What matters to me is how Ettore perceives me.”

I give her hand an appreciative squeeze, feeling a surge of pride. Valentina opens her mouth to ask another question, but I cut her off smoothly.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” I say to Valentina. “Tonight is about celebrating our love and nothing else. If you don’t have any worthwhile questions, perhaps you’d like to enjoy the party.”

Valentina’s surprise flickers only briefly before she regains her composure, her professional smile widening as she turns back to the camera.

“Well, there you have it, everyone—Ettore Greco and Mirabella Ricci, the latest couple capturing all our hearts,” she says with practiced warmth. “I’m Valentina Romano here with Inside Society bringing you an exclusive look into tonight’s glamorous celebration. Stay tuned. We’ll be back with more highlights and interviews from this unforgettable evening.”

As we turn away, I look down at Mirabella, who’s still gripping my hand. “Are you okay?”

She glares up at me, a sarcastic smile plastered on her lips. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m marrying the man of my dreams, everyone here just adores me, and there’s zero public scrutiny to worry about. It’s everything I could wish for,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, a familiar voice booms through the crowd. “Ettore!”

I turn to see Dario approaching, a wide grin on his face, his arm slung around his wife Ginny. He claps me on the back as we exchange a quick hug. “Welcome to the marriage club, man.”

“Dario.” I smile, pulling back. “And as always, you look beautiful, Ginny,” I say, turning to his wife, who smiles warmly at us.

I glance at Mirabella, introducing her. “This is Dario, an old friend, and his wife Ginevra.”

Ginny steps forward, her warm smile extending to Mirabella as she pulls her into a hug. “Please, call me Ginny. And you look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” Mirabella replies softly, and I notice the tension in her shoulders start to ease.

I smile at Dario. “How are the twins?”

He laughs. “Running around somewhere with their nanny, causing trouble, no doubt.”

We chat briefly, catching up on family and small talk about the wedding. When they finally move along, I take Mirabella’s hand again. “Now, let me formally introduce you to the rest of the gang,” I say, guiding her toward the tables.

“When will this night finally end?” She groans under her breath, a polite smile still glued to her lips. She’s already getting really good at this.

“Soon, I promise.”

The reporters, the distant relatives, business associates, begrudging family and those who came purely for appearances—it all feels endless, and I’m ready for it to be over, too.

As we weave through the crowd, guests turn to greet us with warm smiles and polite nods. Eventually, we approach a small group gathered around a table decorated with lavish dishes and champagne. Vittorio spots us first.

“Well, if it isn’t the groom and his beautiful bride,” he calls out in a teasing tone, standing up and stepping over to us. He pulls Mirabella into a hug, making her laugh. It’s a genuine, unguarded laugh—the first I’ve seen from her all night.

“So you’re the woman who managed to tame my brother,” he says, clearly amused.

I watch the scene with a mix of amusement and something deeper I can’t quite place. “Mirabella, meet my younger brother, Vittorio.” I turn to the table. “And these are my aunts—Zia Camilla, Francesca, and Marta,” I say, nodding to each of them, all watching Mirabella closely. “And my cousins Antonio, Leonardo, and Bianca.”

Mirabella’s voice is soft but warm as she greets them. “It’s lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s our pleasure, Bella. I can call you Bella, can’t I?” Aunt Marta asks, her gaze lingering on Mirabella with open curiosity.

Mirabella nods, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Of course. Bella’s fine.”

The others exchange glances, and it’s clear they’re sizing her up, curious but welcoming. Vittorio catches her eye, chuckling. “Trust me, you’ll get used to them. They’re not as scary as they look.”

Mirabella laughs, relaxing even more as she looks at him. “I’m sure I will.”

“Now, you’ve been with Ettore all night,” Vittorio pulls her away from my grip. “Come dance with me. I know how overwhelming my brother can be sometimes. You won’t admit it because you’re his wife and it’s your wedding day, but I can.”

I watch as he spins her away to the dance floor. He says something to her, and she laughs again. He’s always had that ability to make people love him at first glance. His easygoing nature is a stark contrast to mine, and for the first time, I find myself getting jealous.

Mirabella has never laughed that hard at my words.

My mind flashes back to the only time I’ve seen her laugh like that around me, uninhibited and carefree. Now, I stand here separated by more than just a few feet of dance floor.

A sudden shift in the air pulls my focus, and I spot Luca approaching, his face grim. He leans in close. “You have a phone call, sir.”

I frown, waving him off. “I told you—no calls tonight.”

Luca’s gaze darts around us before he whispers, “It’s Abruzzi.”

The name alone sends a chill down my spine, and I clench my jaw as I take the phone from Luca’s hand, stepping away from the crowd and into the garden. I haven’t heard from Abruzzi since I took him down and took over the mafia world, and he’s tried his best to stay away from me.

For him to call me now could mean only one thing—Mirabella.

I grip the phone tightly. “What do you want?”

His voice slithers through the line, dripping with mockery. “Relax. I just called to congratulate you on your marriage. Pity I didn’t get an invitation. After all, you did steal my girl the same way you stole my territory.”

My fist clenches, my voice sharp. “Don’t ever mention Mirabella with that filthy mouth. She’s mine, and you’ll keep your distance from her and her family.”

Abruzzi’s laugh grates on my nerves. “No need to be rude. This is just a harmless call, Ettore.”

My bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I know you too well to believe that. I know you’ve been looking for an excuse to make this harmless call ever since I took out your men like rats.”

His tone turns darker, his words calculated to hit where it hurts as always. “You think this marriage act fools everyone, but not me. I know Mirabella. I know she’d never marry you willingly. You’re no different than me, Ettore. You can try to cover it up, but we’re the same kind of man.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm, to deny him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under my skin. “We are nothing alike. Don’t fool yourself.”

“Oh, but we are,” he chuckles. “Your marriage won’t last. People like us, we don’t have happy ever afters—we always fuck up the good things in our lives. And when you finally do, I’ll be there ready to pick up the pieces. I’ll be her savior.”

His words hit harder than I want them to. I clench my fist, resisting the urge to fling my phone across the garden. Instead, I inhale deeply, reminding myself that this is exactly what he wants. To have me rattled and bothered. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Enjoy your pathetic life while you can, but stay the fuck away from Mirabella,” I say coldly before hanging up.

As I return to the reception, the tension in my chest refuses to ease. Abruzzi’s words echo in my mind. I can’t help but wonder he’s right. If men like me—men who’ve built their lives on blood and power—are destined to ruin anything good that comes their way.

Monster. Reaper.

That is what I am, but I find myself wondering if that is what I will always be. My eyes drift to Mirabella, who’s still with Vittorio, laughing as he leans in, no doubt telling her some ridiculous story. She looks…happy.

I realize she was only able to show me that side of herself because she never thought we would be meeting again.

As I reach my family’s table, Zia Camilla approaches, her voice cutting through the soft background music.

“They could have at least dressed better. If not for their daughter, then certainly for the honor of being in the same room as the Grecos,” she mutters, just loud enough for me to catch.

Following her gaze, I see she’s looking at Mirabella’s family, her lips curling with quiet disdain. Annoyance flares up. I’m not in the mood for this tonight.

“Enough, Zia,” I snap. “This is the only time I’ll say it.”

She huffs in irritation but knows better than to press further. I glance across the garden and find Mirabella’s gaze meeting mine, a quiet intensity between us that feels like a tether, pulling us together even with the distance between us. I feel it.

Vittorio stands before her, saying something that makes him laugh, but her attention is unwavering, fixed on me.

There’s something powerful there—real, undeniable. It pulses with a vividness that cuts through every barrier I’ve tried to build. I know better than to hope for too much tonight. She made her intentions clear, insisting on separate rooms.

And yet, every time she’s near, I want her. It’s a desire I can’t shake, one that’s only grown with every passing glance, every accidental touch.

My legs move almost on their own, carrying me toward the dance floor with a single, relentless goal—to hold her, to dance with her until the night fades away. But with each step closer, the words haunt me, slipping through my mind like a shadow. No matter how perfect this feels, how close I am to the life I want, Abruzzi is right. I’m a monster. I can’t escape what I am.

And yet, as I approach her, I wonder if—for this one night—I can pretend otherwise.

And maybe Abruzzi wasn’t right about one thing—a man like me doesn’t deserve something pure, something…real—from a woman like Mirabella.