Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)
Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 26

“Repeat yourself,” I growl, glaring at the man standing before me.

Luca clenches his jaw, clearly not pleased with the situation. He repeats the words from earlier. “Logan just reported that Mirabella didn’t ride with him to college today.”

Why the hell would she do that? I’ve spent weeks trying to track down whoever’s targeting her and her family. I’ve done everything I could to figure out if the fire at her house was an accident or planned. I moved her family in, bolstered security around the place—only for her to decide she doesn’t want her assigned driver taking her to college?

“Tell me something positive,” I hiss, clicking my pen nervously in my hands. “Tell me she skipped lectures or something. Maybe she just didn’t feel like going, and that’s why Logan didn’t take her.”

Luca finally looks up at me, meeting my gaze for the first time since walking in this morning.

“She did go to college.”

I’m about to snap when he adds another line. “Logan reported that a friend came to pick her up. I found out it was Alessia Conti, her best friend, who picked her up. And I’ve confirmed that she was dropped off on campus.”

My irritation eases a little with the new information. It makes sense. Everything that’s happened lately has been overwhelming for her—too much, too different from what she’s used to. If she needs a little normalcy, even if it’s just hanging out with an old friend, I get it. Plus, it’s Alessia. Before the marriage contract was finalized, I had a background check done on everyone close to Mirabella, including her two best friends. And from what I discovered, they’re both solid people.

“Tell Logan I’ll be picking her up from college later today,” I say gruffly. I’ve got other plans—one of my clients is flying in from Japan, and I need to meet with him at a hotel later. But Mirabella is way more important than any of that. As long as I know she’s safe and okay, everything else can wait.

“You’re dismissed.”

Luca nods and turns to leave the room.

I let out a sigh and return to work. The hours slip by in a blur of meetings and phone calls. Every now and then, I glance at the time on my wristwatch. I’ve got her class schedule memorized, so I know her lectures end at 3:00 pm. The anticipation builds in me as I count down the seconds, thinking about the look of surprise on her face when she sees I came to pick her up instead of Logan.

At 2:30 pm, I tell my secretary to cancel all my remaining appointments before heading toward the parking lot. I slide into the front seat of my Range Rover, start the engine, and pull out of the building. In less than thirty minutes, I’m driving through the sprawling university gates.

I find a spot in the parking lot, and just as I pull in, I spot Alessia several cars ahead. She’s leaning against the trunk of her red Honda Civic, her blonde hair blowing in the breeze, arms crossed over her chest. She’s staring out at the campus with a focused expression.

I step out of the car and head in her direction. I assume she’s here for Mirabella, too. She notices me before I can approach her, and I see something flash in her dark eyes before her face hardens.

Alessia doesn’t like me, and I can’t say I blame her. My reputation precedes me, and since she’s dating Giovanni Ferraro, a guy who works in the nightclub scene, I’m sure she’s heard plenty of rumors about me—most of them probably true.

It doesn’t help that she likely thinks I’m the source of all the chaos in Mirabella’s life. After the fire, the whispers started, and people love connecting dots, even when there’s no proof. Alessia’s loyalty to Mirabella is clear, and I can tell she’d go to battle for her friend if she thought I was a threat.

“Alessia,” I greet her, keeping my tone casual as I stop in front of her. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her posture stiffens, though she tries to appear nonchalant. “I could say the same for you,” she replies cautiously. “You’re such a busy man. Didn’t think picking your wife up from college would be on your list of priorities.”

I smirk, ignoring the thinly veiled jab. “I heard you brought her this morning. That was thoughtful. Mirabella needs her friends around her, especially now.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “I know she does,” she says, her tone more measured this time. There’s a hesitation in her eyes as if she’s weighing how far to push.

“I mean it,” I continue, softening my voice just slightly.

That seems to send a wrinkle in her brows. Almost like she doesn’t believe the words coming from my mouth. Her eyes narrow, and I notice something unsettling in them. People usually measure me with their gaze, but with Alessia, it’s different. It’s like she’s sizing me up, like she knows something I don’t.

She just hates you, man, a voice whispers in my head.

When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, but steady. “I love her,” she says. “And I don’t want to see her hurt.”

She isn’t throwing accusations or raising her voice; instead, it’s a cautious plea, one she seems to have chosen carefully.

“You won’t,” I say, meeting her eyes. “I’ll take care of her.”

She exhales slowly, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her bag. “I hope so.” Her tone carries a hint of resignation, but I can tell she’s still unsure. “For her sake.”

I nod, offering a faint, almost disarming smile. “Thank you for looking out for her, Alessia. She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

She blinks, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in my words, and I take the opportunity to end the conversation on my terms.

“I’ll take her home,” I add, my voice calm but firm.

Alessia hesitates again, then gives a small nod. As she turns to leave, I catch the faint murmur of her voice behind me, almost inaudible. “Don’t make me regret trusting you, Ettore.”

The fierceness in her voice has an edge to it that catches me off guard. She means every word she says, and I can’t help but respect that.

I almost smile but stop myself. Instead, I nod, acknowledging her loyalty. She turns toward her car, slamming the door shut with a quick, sharp motion before driving off. I watch her go, and finally, a smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

Alessia and Giovanni may both hate me, but it’s clear they don’t take Mirabella’s well-being lightly. That’s something I can’t help but admire. I wish I could relate.

I glance at my watch. Mirabella’s last class should have ended about ten minutes ago, but something must’ve held her up inside. I’m about to head back to my car to wait for her when my eyes catch the café across the street. Perfect. I can keep an eye on the parking lot from there.

The smell of coffee hits me the second I walk in. I scan the small space for a good vantage point, finally finding a spot that gives me a clear view of the lot outside.

And then I see her. But she’s not alone.

She’s sitting with some guy—an American, by the looks of him.

He’s tall, with sandy blonde hair that falls messily over his forehead, and a smile that’s too easy, too familiar. His eyes are a sharp blue, and they’re trained on her with an intensity that sends a jolt of irritation through me. The way he leans in—close, too close—and the way he smiles at her…it rubs me the wrong way. There’s something about the casual confidence in his posture, the relaxed manner in which he occupies her space, that I don’t like. It’s as if he’s already comfortable in a place that he has no right to be.

My feet start moving before I even think about it. The guy says something that makes her laugh, and I feel my fists clench as I tear my eyes away from him, focusing on her instead. The way her face lights up, the way she’s listening to him… I know that look. She’s relaxed, open—she likes this guy.

My body tenses, my jaw tightens. Before I even register what I’m doing, I’m calling her name.

“Bella.”

She freezes, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t, and turns to look at me. As I approach, I grab her wrist, my grip firm but not rough.

“Let’s go,” I hiss, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Ettore, what are you⁠—”

“Who are you?” the guy asks, and I feel a flash of anger rise in me. Who the fuck does he think he is, trying to protect her from me?

But I don’t waste another second on him. I’m livid, and I know causing a scene here would only draw attention—attention I don’t care about. It’s Mirabella I’m worried about, because I’m sure she won’t appreciate this one bit.

I don’t answer his question as I pull Mirabella to her feet, leading her out of the café. She’s silent, but I can feel the anger radiating off her, her body stiff with suppressed fury. I steer her across the street toward my car, the silence between us thick, almost suffocating—her anger, my barely-contained frustration.

I open the passenger door for her, and when she’s inside, I slam the door a little harder than necessary. I walk around to the other side and climb into the driver’s seat.

The drive back to the estate is stiff and uncomfortable. The seconds stretch on endlessly. Occasionally, I steal a glance her way. She’s staring ahead, her lips pressed tight, refusing to look at me or anywhere else.

Finally, I can’t take it any longer.

“Who the fuck is he?”

She doesn’t answer, and I grip the wheel tighter, my jaw clenched. “I asked you a question, Mirabella. Who is he?”

Silence. She folds her arms and looks out the window, refusing to say anything. I feel the rage simmering off her body, and I’m boiling by the time my car drives into the estate and pulls over in front of the house.

Before the engine is completely cut off, Mirabella throws the door open and storms into the house. I follow her closely, hot on her heels, as she marches along the marble floors and up the stairs.

When we reach our room, the tension finally snaps. I slam the door shut behind me, and she throws her bag onto the bed.

“So, this is how it’s going to be?” I demand, my voice harsh. “You’re just going to go around campus with guys like that? Pretend you’re not married…”

She whips around, eyes blazing with fury. “Pretend I’m not married?” She scoffs, holding up her hand to show me the diamond glinting on her ring finger. “He knows I’m married. He’s a friend. Not that you’d understand the concept of friendship.”

“Friend?” I let out a dry laugh, disbelieving. “It looked like more than that, Mirabella. He saw your ring, but it didn’t stop him from asking you out on a date…”

“A date?” she mutters incredulously, but I don’t let her get a word in.

“Is that what you do? String guys along, pretending you’re not interested, just keeping them hanging until you get what you want from them…”

I watch as something flashes in her eyes—something more than anger—but I’m too pissed to stop. I’m on a roll now, unable to hold back.

“I won’t say I’m shocked. After how easily you walked away from our first night together, why should I be surprised you use men to your advantage before tossing them aside?”

“How dare you?” Her voice rises as she storms toward me, arm raised as if to slap me.

I’m ready. I catch her wrist before the slap lands, pulling her arm, pulling her closer, until her body crashes into mine. She’s staring at me, chest rising and falling with each harsh breath.

In the heat of our anger, there’s something else—an undeniable spark, a pull between us that crackles in the air.

Slowly, my grip on her wrist loosens, and I lean in, my voice dropping low, every word a threat, a promise. “You’re my wife, Mirabella. That means you are mine. And mine alone.”

Without another word, I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth to hers in a kiss that’s fierce, possessive, claiming her in a way that says more than words ever could.