Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 5

“Are you sure this is the place?” I ask, unable to hide the confusion in my voice. This looks…well, like a regular laundromat. I didn’t pay to rent a dress and four-inch heels that hurt like hell to visit a laundromat!

“Am I sure this is where I work?” Giovanni chuckles through the receiver. “Yeah, I’m sure, Mira.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. I’m not in the mood for his jokes.

“I’m serious, Gio,” I sigh.

When I asked for an invitation to The Temple, one of the most notorious underground poker clubs in the city, I expected glitter, glamor and opulence—not this. I’ve spent a lot of money and time I don’t even have just to be here.

“You’re in the right place, Mira. Just walk into the laundromat and head toward the inner door on the left.”

I sigh again before ending the call and slipping my phone into my purse. My eyes scan the sign Quick Cleaners above the door as I move forward. I push the door open and step inside.

The place smells faintly of detergent. Stacks of clothes are neatly folded on counters, and old machines hum in the background. A bored-looking woman behind the counter gives me a small nod before refocusing on the computer screen in front of her. I look around until I spot a wooden door just as Giovanni described. My heels click on the tiled floor as I approach the door and slip through it.

The exit leads me into a narrow corridor. My pulse quickens. Distant music filters through the unpainted walls, accompanied by a low thumping that vibrates through me. With each step forward, my heart races in anticipation. At the end of the corridor, I stop in front of a steel door. Two massive bouncers flank the entrance, their eyes locking onto me immediately. They’re dressed in black, with muscular builds and expressionless faces.

One of the bouncers scans me up and down, his gaze lingering just long enough to make me uncomfortable.

Can he tell I’m trying hard not to sweat in a dress that costs more than my annual rent? I hope not.

I square my shoulders and try to look unfazed as I hand him my pass. He spends a few seconds looking at it, but it feels like hours. Finally, he grunts something into his earpiece then steps aside, pulling the door open for me.

The first thing that hits me is the loud music. It floods my senses—thumping bass, pulsing beats, and the low murmur of voices. I walk in, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach.

The atmosphere inside is exactly what I expected when I applied for a job here months ago—the dimly lit room with streaks of red and gold casting shadows across the polished floors, poker tables scattered throughout the space, and men in expensive suits surrounded by women adorned with lavish pearls. The air is thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne that costs enough to pay my mother’s entire medical bill.

Glasses clink at the bar, and the soft chatter and laughter blend into the music, making it hard to focus on anything in particular. I take a deep breath and glance around, trying to soak it all in. It’s both overwhelming and exhilarating, and I exhale deeply before straightening my shoulders.

I’ve been trying for months to get into this place. At first, I applied for a job, but they don’t hire girls without a diploma or any real benefit to them. The best I could do was convince Giovanni, Alessia’s boyfriend, to pull a few strings and get me an invitation for the night. He works here, so that wasn’t too difficult for him. And here I am, in a rented gown that hugs my curves in all the right places.

It’s ridiculous and not what I’d usually wear, but apparently, there’s a dress code to which I have to adhere. It’s also why I’m currently wearing high-heeled shoes I can barely walk in and a dress that shows a little too much skin for my liking.

I don’t have a plan, just a vague hope that I can charm a wealthy man with my wit and intelligence—they like stuff like that, don’t they?—into lending me some money or giving me a job or something.

It’s worked for me before—under very different circumstances, I know—but who knows? Maybe my second chance could be the charm.

As I move through the crowd, I can feel eyes on me, appraising and measuring. I feel completely out of place. Everything reeks of power and money, neither of which I have. But it’s easy to pretend, and for one night, that’s what I’ll do. I focus on my newfound confidence. I’m experienced now, no longer the naïve virgin I used to be. I can do this.

I reach the luxurious bar and order a drink from the dark-skinned bartender, who greets me with a flirty smile.

“Vodka tonic,” I say casually, trying to play it cool, even though the words taste sour on my tongue. He raises an eyebrow, like I’ve just made a bold choice in spirits. That can only mean one thing—either I have excellent taste in alcohol, or the drink I just ordered is ridiculously expensive.

My broke ass is betting on the latter. Well, there goes this month’s electric bill. Guess I’ll be picking up more shifts to pay for this tiny act of financial self-sabotage.

The vodka hits hard and fast, calming my nerves just enough to stop my hands from shaking, and I order a second. Just then, I spot Giovanni moving through the crowd, approaching me. The tension in my stomach eases a little at the sight of a familiar face.

“Mirabella!” He beams, pulling me into a brief hug. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

As he leans back, his grin is a mix of amusement and curiosity. “And…you also look nervous. You okay, Mira?”

I roll my eyes, though the nickname softens me a bit. “Ugh! Why do you know me so well?”

“Because we used to be best friends, duh!”

He chuckles. Before Gio and Alessia started dating, the three of us went way back to high school.

That is, until he and Alessia started their secret friends-with-benefits thing behind my back, which eventually blossomed into love. Honestly, I wasn’t mad they hid it—I knew they did it to spare my feelings. And when it all came to light, I was genuinely happy for them. Still, I was a little sad that my two favorite people found the kind of love I’ve always wanted but have never let myself believe I can have.

He pulls up a stool beside me. “You still haven’t told me why you needed an invitation to this place.”

My friends know I’m having money problems, so I’m sure he realizes I’m not here for a casual Friday night out like everyone else.

My drink arrives just then, and I take a slow sip, letting the chill drink settle my nerves before replying. “I need money, Gio. Big money. Plus I could really use your advice.”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprised but not completely shocked. “You mean Abruzzi? I thought you had that handled.”

I shake my head, avoiding his gaze as I trace the rim of my glass with my finger. “I thought I did, as well. He promised to be patient with me, but he seems to have run out of patience.”

I lower my voice as I say, “He sent his thugs after me sometime last week.”

“What?!” Gio hisses, his jaw tightening.

“Shh, relax,” I say, glancing around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping. “Nothing happened. It got handled. I mean, I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

“Fuck, Mira. Why didn’t I hear about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “What could you have done?” Before he could argue, I cut him off. “This debt…it’s suffocating me, Gio. I don’t need advice. I need a way out.”

He lets out a low sigh, leaning back against the bar. “Damn. I don’t know what to say. Alessia and I have already offered to take a loan on your behalf…”

“No.” I swallow. “I told you I wonn’t let you guys do that.”

My friends have helped me enough, to the point where I feel guilty. I already owe them a lot, even though they’ve said I shouldn’t worry about paying them back. I can’t have them taking out loans for me on top of that. I haven’t even settled the ones I owe yet. Besides, there’s this optimistic part of me that thinks I’ll be lucky tonight.

Gio and Alessia recently moved in together, and I’m sure Gio will pop the question any day now. It wouldn’t be fair to drag them down with my problems just because I made a deal with life to be unlucky.

“You’re walking on thin ice here. Abruzzi doesn’t play fair. He’s shown you that.”

“Do you think I don’t already know that?” I groan. “That’s kinda why I’m here.” I wince, ashamed of what I’m about to say.

He studies me for a moment, and his eyes widen as he reads meaning into my words.

“I’m not here to sell myself or anything like that,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my mouth before he can jump to conclusions. “You know Nonna would have my head if she ever found out.” My voice wavers slightly, and I let out a shaky breath. “I just thought…maybe I could find someone who sees my potential and wants to help me.”

He sighs. “Mira…”

I pause, the weight of my own words settling in. “I know it sounds stupid.” I groan, burying my face in my hands to shield myself from his reaction.

My friends never judge me, but even I know how naive I must sound right now. It’s a little humiliating, exposing this vulnerable part of myself, but the words are out there now, and there’s no taking them back.

Gio chuckles lightly before pulling my hand away from my face. “I know you think Abruzzi is dangerous, but there are others here who are much worse. You don’t want to get involved with them.”

My heart drops at his words, and just then, I feel it—a prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Someone is watching me.

I turn, scanning the room, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Men are hunched over poker tables, and women are chatting and laughing. Yet, the feeling lingers, sharp and unshakeable.

Giovanni follows my gaze. “Something wrong?”

I shake my head, trying to brush off the unease. “No, it’s nothing,” I lie.

I seem to be doing that a lot these days. Some things are embarrassing to admit, and some…well, they shouldn’t even leave my lips at all.

Like the way I’ve been hoping to somehow bump into Ettore again. He hasn’t left my mind since I practically fled our shared hotel room that morning. I keep thinking about how he saved my life and how he took my virginity afterward.

My first time was a whirlwind of hot, sizzling, unforgettable sex.

“Mirabella?” Gio’s voice filters through my thoughts. “I asked you a question.”

I groan inwardly. A man like Ettore has no doubt forgotten about me by now. Yet here I am, zoning out during conversations because I can’t stop thinking about our time together.

I’m turning into a sex-crazed woman, and I’ve only had sex once! Well, twice, if I count the second round we had in the middle of that night.

My cheeks flush as Gio shakes his head at me.

“I asked if the thugs hurt you, but clearly, your mind is somewhere else.”

“They didn’t hurt me. He just sent them to scare me,” I lie. They may not have physically harmed me, but they definitely planned to. I’d be dead by now if not for Ettore.

Giovanni opens his mouth to speak again, probably to lecture me about my life choices, but his eyes snap to something—or someone—behind me. His lips freeze mid-sentence, his entire demeanor stiffening. The usual bravado I always tease him for is replaced with unease.

“What is it?” I ask, a frown tugging at my brow.

His answer doesn’t come in words. Instead, he jerks his chin toward a figure moving through the dimly lit bar—a man dressed in a tailored black suit, polished shoes that click against the floor, and dark sunglasses that shouldn’t belong in such lighting.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise as he approaches, his movements deliberate, calculated. He stops just shy of my stool, his presence unnervingly close.

“Mirabella Ricci,” he says, his voice smooth but sharp enough to cut through the hum of conversations and music.

I freeze. My name. How does he know my name?

I turn slowly, heart already racing. Standing beside me is a man who’s presence is commanding. I blink, caught off guard.

“Excuse me?” I manage, my voice smaller than I’d like.

“My boss has a proposition for you,” he says, voice calm, ignoring my confusion entirely like this is an everyday conversation.

“What proposition? And who⁠—”

“I would prefer to speak with you privately,” he interjects, cutting me off with the weight of authority. His head tilts toward Giovanni, who straightens in his seat as if he’s ready to fight. “Without…unnecessary third parties.”

Giovanni snorts. “Yeah? And I’d like a private island. Neither is happening.”

The man doesn’t respond. Giovanni stands abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. “Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?”

The stranger doesn’t flinch, his head turning slowly to Giovanni. Behind the glasses, I feel the intensity of his glare. They stand there locked in a silent standoff, a battle of wills playing out before me.

“Gio,” I whisper, my voice breaking the tension. “Can you give us a minute?”

“What? No!” Giovanni’s disbelief is palpable. “Why the hell would you listen to him?”

Because this man knows my full name, and I have a sinking feeling he knows more than that.

“You’re not seriously thinking about⁠—”

“I just want to hear what he has to say,” I insist, though my pulse pounds in warning.

“This is a private matter,” the man says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Giovanni looks at me, his protective instincts clearly warring with his common sense. I give him a small nod, placing a hand on his arm, pleading with my eyes. And with a reluctant sigh, he pushes off the stool, muttering curses under his breath, and takes a seat at a nearby booth, his gaze never leaving us.

The man steps closer, his cologne—dark, woodsy, and expensive—filling the space between us. His presence looming as he leans in just enough for only me to hear.

“A marriage deal.”

I blink, taken aback by the bluntness. “Excuse me?”

“My boss has an offer,” he says smoothly. “He wishes to marry you,” he repeats, the words rolling off his tongue as if they’re the most ordinary thing in the world. “In exchange, you’ll be generously compensated.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh, but his expression remains impassive.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“One million dollars up front. One hundred thousand dollars each month for the year you remain married to him.”

The laughter dies in my throat.

“Still think this is a joke? Well, let me tell you what isn’t,” he continues, his tone razor-sharp. “The twenty thousand dollars you owe Abruzzi.”

My breath hitches.

I stare at him, stunned. “How do you⁠—”

He interrupts. “My boss knows everything. And he’s offering you a way out.”

“You’re bluffing,” I whisper, though my voice lacks conviction.

“Am I?” He tilts his head slightly, studying me like a predator sizing up prey. “Do you think loan sharks care about your family’s well-being? They don’t. But my boss—he’s offering you a solution. Money, protection, freedom from the chaos swallowing you whole.”

My mind reels. “A million dollars?” I whisper, the sheer number clawing at the edges of my sanity.

He nods, his expression unchanging. “Enough to erase all your problems, isn’t it?”

“That’s…” I start, but my voice falters.

No. Not today, Satan.

I shake my head, trying to push through the fog of disbelief. My grandmother’s voice rings in my ears, reciting that story every Sunday morning and night after mass.

“Beware the devil’s deals, child,” she’d say. “They always seem like salvation, but they’re nothing but chains in disguise.”

Well, congratulations, Nonna. Looks like I found myself smack in the middle of one of those trickery fables.

And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that this is worse than some biblical parable. My brain spirals into darker territory: They’re going to kidnap me, aren’t they? Or worse…they want to harvest my kidneys and sell them on the black market.

I glance around the room, half-expecting a group of goons to emerge from the shadows with a chloroform-soaked rag. My breath quickens, and I force myself to lock eyes with the man in the suit, trying to mask the growing panic behind my glare.

“Who’s your boss?”

“That’s not important,” he says, brushing off my questions. “What is important is that this deal—this marriage—is your only way out.”

His words make my skin crawl, but they also strike a chord deep inside me.

“What’s the catch?” I ask finally, my voice barely audible.

“No catch,” he replies. “You marry him. Stay married for one year. At the end of it, you walk away with your life, your family intact, and more money than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

I narrow my eyes. “And I don’t even get to know his name?”

“You’ll meet him soon enough,” he says cryptically, pulling a sleek black card from his pocket. He slides it across the bar. “Think it over. You’ll find all the details here.”

“I don’t need to think it over,” I snap, pushing the card back toward him. “Tell your boss I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Abruzzi won’t hesitate to make an example of you, Mirabella. And if he can’t get to you…well, there’s your sister. How much do you think she’ll fetch if those debts remain unpaid? Or should I mention your grandmother? You know how these men operate,” he adds, leaning in closer.

The room around me feels suddenly colder, the air thicker. “Stop,” I hiss, my voice trembling.

He doesn’t. “What about your mother’s surgery and treatment? Her condition is worsening. You need two hundred thousand, at least. And what about your overdue debts to other…less patient lenders. Do you really need me to spell it out further?”

“Enough,” I snap, my hands trembling against the counter. “I’ll only repeat this once before I walk away. Who are you?”

“I’m simply a messenger,” he replies. “But I assure you, my boss can offer you protection—freedom from these chains in which you’ve wrapped yourself.”

The temptation of it slams into me like a tidal wave. It’s impossible, absurd even, but every word he says chips away at my resistance.

“I don’t even know who your boss is,” I say, clutching at the one thread of logic I can still hold.

“You will,” he says simply, sliding the card back across the counter. “If you reconsider.”

With that, he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving me with a heart pounding out of rhythm and more questions than answers.

I stare at the card as if it might burn me. Giovanni rushes back the moment he’s gone.

“What did that snake want?” he demands, his eyes searching mine.

“He wants me to marry his boss,” I reply with a hollow laugh. “For one year. And he promises to fix…everything,” I say flatly, still staring at the card.

Giovanni freezes, his face draining of color. His eyes flick to the spot where the man disappeared, and then back to me, his jaw tightening.

“Do you have any idea who that man works for?”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “Who?”

His hand clamps onto the edge of the counter so tightly I think it might crack under the pressure. “You can’t trust him. Or his boss. You don’t know the kind of people you’d be dealing with.”

“Who is he?” I repeat, my frustration boiling over. “What’s with everyone hiding this guy’s identity? Just tell me!”

Giovanni exhales, a heavy sound like this is something he doesn’t want to say. “I’ve only ever seen him from a distance,” he begins reluctantly. “He pays for the high-end tables—cash, no questions asked. Doesn’t stick around. He’s in, he’s out.”

“So, what?” I scoff, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “He’s stupidly rich and probably hides because he’s ugly?”

Giovanni’s face darkens, his expression shifting from concern to something more serious, more urgent. He doesn’t even crack a smile. “No, Mirabella. He hides because he’s dangerous. And ugly doesn’t even begin to cover it. From what I’ve heard, he’s the most dangerous man in this city. Forget Abruzzi—that guy’s a small fish compared to this guy. This man…he’s worse. Much worse.”

A cold knot tightens in my stomach. “You’re saying I shouldn’t get involved?”

“I’m saying you can’t get involved. Whatever he’s offering you—it’s not worth it. Not when it comes from him.”

I swallow hard, the weight of Giovanni’s words settling over me.

As absurd as the offer is, as horrifying as the implications are, the shiny black card sits on the counter, taunting me with its promise of salvation. The stranger’s words echo in my mind, mingling with the weight of my reality.

And for the first time in years, I feel something other than despair.

I feel tempted.