Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 12

“Your wife is all settled in, sir,” Luca announces the moment he steps into my office.

My wife. The phrase stirs something inside me, something I’ve been trying to keep down since the moment I made this decision. She isn’t my wife…yet, but I nod, keeping my face unreadable while my mind races.

She’s here. In my house.

When I got home less than an hour ago, I could feel a difference in the atmosphere. I’d told my men earlier today to bring Mirabella and her family here, so I knew she was here. Maybe that’s why I felt the shift in the air the moment I walked in. Her presence—it’s like it changes everything around me.

I was tempted to head straight to her room just to see her. I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since our last encounter. The dress she wore, the way she looked me right in the eyes and told me to mind my business.

I smirk at the memory. No woman—especially one as small and inexperienced as Mirabella—has ever talked to me like that before. That spark in her, the way she challenged me…it was intriguing.

The idea of barging into her room just to see the shock on her face when she realizes I’m the man she’s marrying gives me a dark sense of satisfaction.

“Boss?” Luca’s voice snaps me back to the present.

I glance up at him and notice a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “We brought her in this morning, as you requested, but…we couldn’t bring her family.”

I narrow my eyes. “And why is that?”

Luca shifts slightly, which is unusual for him. He’s typically unreadable, always calm. “She didn’t want us to bring her family just yet. She told them about the marriage only this morning and argued that she couldn’t just uproot them into this situation so suddenly.”

I almost chuckle. I can hear her words in his explanation. “So, she convinced you to go against my orders?” I scoff, but there’s a smirk playing on my lips.

She’s not even my wife yet, and already she’s managed to make Luca disobey me for the first time. I should be annoyed by it—the influence she has, the power she doesn’t even realize she holds—but instead, I find it thrilling. It’s a damned turn-on.

Think straight, I remind myself. This marriage is for business, nothing more. That’s how I should think of her—nothing but a strategic partner. But her attitude, her fire, her ability to command…I used to wonder if choosing her was the right move. She didn’t check any of the boxes Aldo had set for the woman I was supposed to marry. But I chose her for my own selfish reasons.

Now I see she didn’t need to fit any criteria. She’s exactly the kind of woman I need. One who can make men—and eventually the world—fall to their knees. All without even trying.

“It won’t happen again, sir,” Luca says, bowing his head slightly.

Luca has never failed me before, and knowing how loyal he is, I can tell he regrets disappointing me.

But he didn’t disappoint me. In fact, he’s just shown me that my choice, selfish as it was, might’ve been perfect.

“Make sure she has everything she needs,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I want her comfortable.”

Luca looks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes that I’m not angry. Then he nods. “I’ll take care of it,” he assures me before turning to leave.

As the door closes, I’m left alone again, thoughts of the woman upstairs filling my mind.

I know she’s probably dying to see who she’s being forced to marry. I can picture her pacing, losing her mind at the thought of tying herself to a stranger. I shouldn’t enjoy the idea, but I do—and I feel no shame in it. I’ve never claimed to be a good man. Yet, despite everything, I can’t shake a flicker of guilt.

I don’t know how she’s coping with all this, being thrust into my world, separated from her family. I planned for them to join her for the wedding and then arranged another house for them afterward. I know her family is her foundation, that they’ve never been apart. But it’s too late for second thoughts.

She signed the contract. That’s what matters. I don’t need to love her or pretend we’re a regular family—except in public. As long as we both hold up our end of the bargain, this will work out for both of us.

Besides, this arrangement isn’t forever. We aren’t committing to a lifetime together. This isn’t for better or for worse, till death do us part. Though, for some reason, that thought leaves an odd feeling in my chest.

The door swings open abruptly, pulling me from my thoughts. Zia Camilla strides in, her sharp heels clicking against the marble floor. Behind her are Aunt Francesca and Marta, both looking critical, though their expressions lack the hostility in Camilla’s.

They’ve seen Mirabella. And they’re clearly not pleased.

“Ettore,” Camilla’s voice is laced with barely suppressed anger. “You must be joking. A woman like that? A nobody? In this house?”

“Watch yourself,” I warn, running a hand along my jaw.

“Watch myself?” she mocks, glancing back at Francesca and Marta as if to confirm if they’re watching what’s happening.

“I had to do a double take when I first saw her, Ettore. I thought she was lost, a wayward soul who somehow stumbled into our lives. I honestly wondered how the guards could let someone like her cross our threshold.” She pauses, a smirk forming. “But then I saw Paula and another maid trailing her, and I was struck by the irony. Surely, you wouldn’t…” Her laughter is bitter, cutting. “Imagine my surprise when I inquired with Paula and learned that she is indeed the woman you’ve chosen to marry.”

Camilla’s breathing grows heavier, while I’m desperate for a smoke or a whiskey—anything to help me keep my temper in check.

“Mirabella will be my wife in three days. Two days, technically, since today’s almost over,” I say calmly, even though every part of me wants to throw them out of my office. “You will treat her with the respect she deserves.”

“Respect?” Camilla scoffs, folding her arms. “Ettore, after I got her name from the maid, I looked her up. And I was appalled. She doesn’t even have a degree. No respectable job—unless you consider waiting tables, cleaning rooms in a seedy motel, and cashiering at a mall real work,” she hisses. When I remain silent, she presses on.

“She lives in the slums with her family. She comes from nothing, so she has nothing of value to bring into this family.”

I clench my jaw as Aunt Francesca nods, her voice softer but no less pointed. “What Camilla is trying to say, Ettore, is that…Mirabella doesn’t belong here. She’s not…one of us.”

“One of us?” I let the bitterness slip into my tone. “Like my mother, you mean?” I watch as Camilla visibly flinches at the mention of my mother.

“Your mother, God rest her soul, was different,” she retorts, her gaze flitting away like a guilty child. “We accepted her because your father was obstinate in his affections. But this girl?” She shakes her head, her disdain palpable. “Do you even love her? Could you ever lower yourself to love someone like her?”

I rise to my feet, my chair scraping harshly against the floor. They all flinch at the sudden movement.

“You’ve always resented my mother because she wasn’t born into wealth. The whispers, the scornful looks…I grew up watching all of it.” I step closer, eyes fixed on Camilla. “But let’s make something clear. I don’t need your approval. Mirabella is going to be my wife, and the first person who disrespects her will regret it.”

“I will not tolerate any more of this. You can’t stand here in my office in my house and insult both my mother and the woman I’m about to marry.”

Camilla’s lips press into a thin, disapproving line, momentarily silent. Aunt Marta seizes the pause to speak up for the first time.

“Some people may be here to insult your mother, dear nephew,” she says, a sneer curling her lips, while I catch Camilla rolling her eyes. “But I’m here to bring you back to reality. Dragging a girl like her into our family would be seamless. You can’t expect us to embrace her with open arms.”

“We are merely protecting the family’s reputation,” Aunt Francesca adds, her tone suggesting that family honor trumps all. “People will start to talk.”

“The public will tear us apart,” Camilla cuts in, shaking her head as if the opinion of strangers is the ultimate tragedy.

“Mirabella is to be my wife,” I bite out, my voice echoing through the office. “You don’t have to accept her, and I don’t care if you don’t like her. But you will respect her, and that is final.”

Just before I finally tell them to leave, Vittorio strides in through the open door, taking one look at the scene and sighing.

“I could hear the raised voices from the hallway. What’s going on here?”

“Ask your brother,” Camilla huffs, still avoiding my eyes. “Have you even seen the woman he plans to marry?”

“No, I haven’t,” Vittorio replies, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “But I’m sure she’s delightful.”

Camilla shoots him a glare, but before she can protest, he places his hands firmly on her shoulders.

“I think it’s time for a break. You’ve been working tirelessly on this wedding, and I assure you, it’s happening whether you approve or not.”

“Vittorio…”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Aunt Camilla,” he counters, his tone dropping an octave as he surveys the others. “And I wasn’t just addressing her.”

Tension thickens the air, words left hanging as Camilla narrows her eyes, but Vittorio’s unwavering gaze silences her. With a final look of distaste, she turns on her heel and storms out, Francesca and Marta trailing close behind.

“I was seconds away from tossing her and her cohorts out,” I mutter as soon as they’re gone.

“Out of your office or out of the house?” Vittorio smirks, stepping closer.

“Both. The only thing that stayed my hand was Papa’s dying wish…”

Our father’s last request—that the family remain united. Vittorio nods, as though recalling the same words.

“So, is this really what you want, Ettore? Our family already has divisions from the fallout of our parents’ marriage. Do you really want to go down this path?”

His tone isn’t judgmental, just curious.

I rake a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of our father’s wish. It’s the only reason I haven’t shown my aunts the door, despite their constant meddling. But this—I won’t sacrifice my own life to keep together a family that’s already fractured.

“I’m seeing the wedding through,” I say, holding his gaze.

Vittorio nods slowly, understanding. “Then you’d better brace yourself for whatever comes next.”