Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)
Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 23

The man’s body falls to the ground, crumpling with a lifelessness that chills me to the core. Blood—so much blood—pools beneath him, dark and viscous, spreading across the pristine white tiles like a grotesque painting. I can hear distant sounds in the periphery, but the thunderous echoes of the gunshots—the two deafening bangs—reverberate relentlessly through my bones.

“Mirabella.” Someone calls my name.

I look up to see Ettore approaching me, his gun still in hand, his expression like stone. I take a step back, and he halts, glances down before slipping his gun into his coat. Does he always have a gun with him? Is there is there a gun somewhere in the bedroom we share together?

Behind him, I see Abruzzi’s eyes narrow with annoyance as he tucks his own weapon back in the waistband of his pants.

My stomach lurches. These men…they just took a freaking life, yet their faces and expressions are devoid of remorse or empathy. It hits me all at once, heavy and suffocating—the emotions crash over me like a tidal wave. I can’t shake the memories—watching my childhood home engulfed in flames, my mother teetering on the brink of death tonight, and now this bloody scene laid out before me.

Horror and disbelief churn in my stomach. I stumble backward, clutching my hand over my mouth, but it’s futile. I double over and retch, the contents of my stomach spilling onto the tiled floor. The men’s voices fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding in my head.

“Get away from her.” Ettore’s low growl slices through the haze. I feel a hand reach for my shoulder—Abruzzi’s, I think—but it disappears as Ettore moves closer, his presence a looming shield.

“Everyone. Out.” Ettore’s voice brooks no argument. I raise my head weakly, my vision blurred, and I catch a glimpse of Abruzzi’s face. A flicker of something flits across his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a hardened mask. He nods before walking away, leaving just Ettore and me in the thick silence.

“Mirabella.” Ettore’s voice softens as he crouches beside me, but I can’t help flinching back when he reaches for me.

It’s all too much—the blood on the floor, the lifeless body on the other side of the room, and the coldness I saw in Ettore’s eyes when he pulled the trigger. My thoughts are jumbled, and I struggle to breathe.

“I’m…I’m fine,” I manage to say, but the words taste like brittle lies on my tongue. I attempt to stand, but my legs buckle beneath me. Before I can collapse, Ettore’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he lifts me effortlessly off the ground.

I squirm, weakly pushing against his chest, but he doesn’t let go.

“Drop me. I can walk,” I mumble, but he simply tightens his grip, carrying me bridal-style out of the room.

He carries me to his car, gently placing me in the front seat. I can’t help but notice he hasn’t brought a driver or any of his men with him today. How important was that meeting that he came alone? How crucial was it that he didn’t answer my calls the first time I reached out for help?

Ettore slides into the driver’s seat beside me, and the engine rumbles to life beneath us as we pull away from the curb. We drive in tense silence for a few minutes before Ettore finally breaks it, his voice laced with a dangerous, controlled edge. “How reckless can you be, Mirabella? Storming into a room full of men who could kill you in an instant? Are you out of your mind?”

My dizziness begins to fade, replaced by a burning rage. “I wanted to see what had my husband so occupied that he couldn’t answer my calls the one time I actually needed him to come save me!” I snap back, fire igniting in my voice.

“Who came up with the brilliant idea to go there? Was it you or your new boyfriend?”

“Oh, don’t even go there,” I retort bitterly, chuckling dryly. “Don’t make this about Abruzzi when it’s all on you. I have enemies now because of you! My family can’t even feel safe in their own home because I’m your fucking wife,” I scream, my voice thick with frustration.

His hands grip the wheel tightly, knuckles white with anger. “Why shouldn’t I mention Abruzzi? Is he your knight in shining armor now because he swooped in to save you, coincidentally, the exact moment you were in danger?”

“He was watching me,” I hiss, and that seems to infuriate Ettore even more.

“What? He was watching you? You knew he was watching you?” he spits, incredulity lacing his tone.

“He confessed it to me tonight,” I shoot back defiantly. “And shouldn’t you be the one who knows this? You claim you have bodyguards watching over me and my family. How is it that a man like Abruzzi has been tracking me, and they don’t even know?”

“So, what, you’re defending him? He confessed to stalking you, and you’re defending him?” He scoffs, disbelief etched on his face as he takes a sharp turn, the car veering dangerously.

A ragged exhale escapes my lips. I may be furious with Ettore, but he’s right. It’s ridiculous that I’m defending a man like Abruzzi.

“You’re no different from him,” I retort, my voice cold. “You both just killed a man in cold blood.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me kill a man, now would it?” he hisses, his tone sharp as we drive into the high-end neighborhood where the Greco estate looms ahead.

“This is different. You had no reason to kill that man.”

“You’re forgetting that your new boyfriend shot him too…”

We arrive at the towering gate of the estate, and it pulls open before he drives in.

“Enough about that,” I snap, glaring at him. “I don’t want to talk about you, or Abruzzi, or how you both have this sick penchant for murder. All I care about right now is keeping my family safe!”

We pull up to the main house, and before the car has fully stopped, I’m out of it, rushing toward the door. He follows closely behind, his footsteps heavy in the stillness of the night as I rush inside, up the stairs, and into our bedroom.

The silence stretches between us as we enter the house, his presence like a heavy shadow behind me, his steps barely making a sound.

“I’ll have Luca take them—” he starts, his voice steady as he follows me into the room.

“No,” I cut him off before he can finish. I’m not sure I can even look at him right now.

“No?” His voice is sharp with disbelief. “So what’s your plan, then? Leave them with your new boyfriend?”

I flinch at the word. “Would you stop calling him that?” I press a hand to my temple, the headache threatening to split my skull. “I just…I need to think.”

“Bella…”

“Look what happened the last time you promised you would protect them,” I tell him. “I can’t risk that happening again.”

“So, who’s going to protect them, huh? Abruzzi?” His voice grows venomous. “The same man whose only goal is to keep you indebted and vulnerable to him? Who else has the power to actually keep your family safe?”

I want to fight back, but I know he’s right. Dammit. That doesn’t help the frustration gnawing at me.

“Luca will get them,” he says, his tone final. “They’ll stay here, where no one can touch them.”

I exhale, silently agreeing with him. It’ll be more comforting to have my family around, at least until everything is settled and there’s no threat to their safety anymore.

The tension between us is suffocating as I move quickly to get ready for a shower. I don’t even have the energy to make it a long one. I need to escape for just a moment. I don’t know how long I’m in there, but when I step out, I find him watching me intently.

The air between us crackles as his gaze shifts over my face, his eyes dark. Before I can say a word, he steps forward, reaching out and brushing his thumb over my cheek.

“There’s a cut here,” he murmurs, his voice softer than usual, but it still carries an edge.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I instinctively pull away. “It’s nothing. I don’t need you fussing over me.”

But he doesn’t back off. Instead, he steps closer, the force of his presence drawing me in despite myself. “You were in a fire last night, Mirabella. I wasn’t there to help you. The least you can do now is let me treat your cut.”

Something inside me stirs—something deep and dangerous—and for a second, I forget why we’re even arguing. His proximity messes with my head, and when his fingertips graze my skin, a wave of heat floods through me, making my knees weak. The tension between us thickens, and I can barely breathe.

“Fine,” I mutter, barely able to choke out the word.

He leads me to the edge of the bed and gestures for me to sit. I comply, and he disappears into the bathroom for a few moments before returning with a first aid kit in hand.

“Is it really that serious?” I sigh, fatigue weighing on me more than I care to admit.

“Yes, it is.” His voice is firm as he crouches in front of me, tilting my chin up gently before dabbing at the cut with a soft gauze. “Besides, I needed a reason to touch you without you protesting.”

The silence stretches between us at his confession. I feel his thumb linger on my jaw, his breath brushing against my skin as he focuses on cleaning the small cut. He’s so close that I feel his every exhale, feel the way his gaze darts over my flushed face.

“What are you thinking about, Bella?” His voice is rough, the sound of it pulling me deeper into this moment.

“I wasn’t…I’m not…” My words trip over each other, but they’re no match for the pull of his gaze.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and I scoff, trying to push past the heat rising in my chest.

“I wasn’t thinking anything dirty if that’s what you think,” I snap, but I know I’m lying.

He doesn’t look away, his thumb sweeping over my skin again. “I didn’t accuse you of anything,” he says, his voice deceptively calm. “I just asked what you were thinking about.”

His thumb is dangerously close to my lip now, and my mind flashes back to that moment when he taught me how to please him. I can feel myself leaning in, just a fraction, caught by the intensity in his hazel eyes.

I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, his face is only a few inches from mine, and his fingers skim along my jaw, brushing against my cheek. It sends a shock of electricity through me, and I press my legs together, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.

His eyes follow the movement, and he clenches his jaw before pulling away from me. I can see the struggle on his face, in his eyes, even though he’s trying so hard to hide it. It sends a rush of heat through my entire body, a rush that makes my heart hammer.

“I’ll go take a shower,” he says, rising to his feet and carrying the box with him.

As I watch him retreat into the bathroom, it dawns on me that us being this close is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting me.

And it’s not just sexual.

There’s something else there. Something deeper…something scarier.

Something we both can’t risk happening.