Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 8

Red wine slides down my throat as I take a sip from my glass. A soft clink echoes in the air when I set the cup beside my plate on the dining table and gaze ahead. My family members flank the sides of the long dining table, everyone busy with the feast before us.

The chandelier overhead casts a warm glow over the dining room in the Greco mansion. The sounds of forks and knives clinking against fine china bounce off the marble floors and high ceilings. The air is filled with delicious aromas. The table is laden with lavish dishes, from truffle-infused pasta to roasted lamb, all prepared by the estate’s personal chef.

I can hardly recall the last time I participated in the tradition my father started—our family dinners every night.

I’m a busy man, and most evenings I come home to find everyone else already tucked into bed. But tonight I made an effort to be here for dinner. I returned early from the poker club just in time for the meal because of the announcement I have to make.

“I’m getting married.”

My voice slices through the low clinking and chatter, and the room instantly falls silent. Forks freeze mid-air. My younger brother Vittorio looks up from his plate. My two cousins Antonio and Leonardo stop whispering and fix me with stunned expressions. Even Bianca, my eighteen-year-old cousin who is obsessed with her phone looks up with wide eyes. The seconds stretch like hours as I absorb their reactions.

Zia Camilla, my oldest aunt, sits across the table, narrowing her eyes at me. I notice her lips twitch as if she’s trying to suppress a smirk. It’s just family dinner, yet she’s dressed in a silk blouse, pearls delicately hanging around her neck. The rings on her fingers tinkle as they tap against her wine glass.

Finally, it’s my other two aunts Francesca and Marta who break the silence.

“Ettore! That’s great news,” Aunt Francesca exclaims, while Aunt Marta chimes in, “Finally!”

I knew they’d be pleased with my announcement. They’ve been pushing me to get married ever since I took over the family company right after graduating college. I’m sure this is just another chance for them to plan a party that will leave everyone talking.

“Nah, I don’t believe it.” Vittorio chuckles. “Did you hit your head today?”

I can hardly believe it myself. While I wasn’t surprised when Luca called earlier to tell me that Bella had agreed, it still feels a bit surreal.

I’m getting married.

“Who’s the lucky woman?” Antonio chimes in, leaning back in his chair. “Or should I say unlucky? You’re not exactly husband material.”

“You must be kidding,” Leonardo replies, shooting Antonio a look. “Ettore is exactly the type of man most women would die to have…”

“Because he was named the sexiest bachelor in New York?” Antonio snorts. “He’s assistant probably paid the newspaper to run that.”

I can’t help but chuckle.

“Because everyone wants to be a Greco,” Leonardo corrects, rolling his eyes with arrogance. I feel sorry for the girls who had to deal with him at UCLA.

“That’s exactly why she’s unlucky,” Bianca adds, surprising me. She rarely speaks at the table. “She’s going to be under so much public scrutiny. People will hate her just for marrying into the Greco family, but really, they’re just jealous because that’s what they want.”

“I’m sure this conversation is doing wonders for your ego,” Vittorio mutters beside me.

Antonio huffs at his sister. “They only want Ettore because they don’t really know who he is.” I catch the slight edge in his voice.

Interesting.

It doesn’t surprise me that I’m not my cousin’s favorite person. His mother, Francesca, doesn’t like me, so why would he?

Our family dynamic is…complicated. The Greco family has always been wealthy, but our fortune skyrocketed when my father took over the family business at a young age after his father died. He worked hard, reinvested his inheritance, and tripled his wealth. He became significantly wealthier than his three sisters, even though they all received the same inheritance from their father. I suspect they were a bit jealous, but my father held no ill will toward his siblings. When he built the Greco estate, he invited them all to live with him.

Their animosity toward us began when he married my mother. To them, she didn’t meet the family’s standards. It worsened when my parents died, and as expected, eighty percent of my father’s possessions went to my brother and me. Apparently, my father should have left more than the beach houses abroad and stocks he distributed to each sibling and their children.

But they are all good pretenders—except for the children, of course. Marta, Leonardo’s mother, is more subtle, cutting into her steak with slow precision, her eyes flickering with intrigue as she listens to her children’s conversation.

I almost forgot about Zia Camilla, my father’s older sister and clearly the boldest among the three.

I let their comments wash over me as my gaze locks with Zia Camilla’s. She remains eerily silent, but her eyes gleam with curiosity. There’s also a sharp edge to her gaze, the same look she always had when questioning my late father’s choices—especially marrying my mother, a woman who wasn’t born into wealth like the rest of them.

“When are we going to meet her? Is she pretty?” Aunt Marta asks, a calculating smile on her lips.

Mirabella’s face flashes in my mind—her long auburn hair, big brown eyes, plump lips, and perfect nose…

She’s not just pretty. Her beauty is ethereal.

I’ve only seen her twice, yet the image of her face hasn’t left my mind for even a moment.

“I’ll tell you more in time,” I reply, refusing to indulge their curiosity.

Vittorio shifts beside me. He’s perceptive, so I know he can sense the strange energy in the air. My brother is my closest family member. We’ve been inseparable since he was born, despite the seven-year gap between us. At twenty-five, he already runs a significant part of the business, and I’m grateful to have someone like him by my side.

Leonardo and Antonio exchange knowing glances while Bianca returns her attention to her phone.

Finally, Zia Camilla’s voice cuts through the air—soft yet laced with venom. “Well, isn’t that a surprise?” Her fingers tighten around the stem of her glass. “One can only hope you’ve chosen someone suitable. Someone who understands our family’s traditions.”

Traditions. Her not-so-subtle way of saying I’d better not marry someone like my mother—someone beneath the Greco name.

“You’ll meet her soon enough,” I respond, my tone neutral but firm. I’m not in the mood for her thinly veiled insults tonight.

Vittorio leans over, muttering under his breath, “You’re actually serious about this? When did you decide? Is she someone I’ve met before?”

“I wouldn’t announce it if I wasn’t serious,” I tell him. “And like I said, you’ll all meet her at the right time.”

He exhales, and his silence tells me he knows not to press further. At least not in front of the others. I know he’ll grill me about it later.

“Is she famous?” Bianca asks in a flat voice, still not looking up from her phone. Her fingers are furiously typing away, no doubt updating her followers with whatever meaningless gossip she’s conjured up today.

She’s the youngest, a high school senior who’s made a name for herself as a social media influencer. Hundreds of thousands of followers engage with her, even when she’s doing nothing but flaunting her wealth and pretty face. She knows not to disclose any information about our family’s private life, which is why I’m not worried about her spilling my announcement to anyone willing to listen.

“Famous?” I raise an eyebrow, glancing down the table at her. “No.”

“Well, she will be the moment she marries you,” Bianca mutters, finally looking up with a smirk. “Maybe I should give her a shoutout. Is she a social media person? I know some people aren’t really into social media.”

She’s right. I doubt Bella is obsessed with likes, followers, and fans. She’s just trying to survive.

“For someone who just announced his marriage, you’re being a bit vague with the details, Ettore,” Camilla interjects, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. “Is it because you’re unsure if she’s the right fit? I understand. Your father was quite uncertain about marrying your mother, too, in the beginning. If only he had listened…”

I clench my fists at her comment. I don’t relate to the idea of love. I refuse to surrender my entire existence to loving and committing to one person. But my parents? They were definitely in love. Even a blind man could see it.

I witnessed it when they were alive. They couldn’t stand being apart for long and showered that same love on my brother and me. After my father died from a heart attack when I was young, my mother couldn’t bear the loss. I saw how it changed her. She barely lasted another year before she passed away, too.

“It’s not too late to reconsider,” Zia Camilla’s voice floats through the air. “There are plenty of fine women from the right families. Ones who would—how shall I put it?—uphold the Greco legacy.” She smiles thinly. “It would be a shame for the head of the family to make the same mistake twice.”

Zia Camilla has always made her opinions about my parents’ love abundantly clear. It didn’t conform to the expectations of the Greco family. My father, the powerful head of our clan, was supposed to marry someone from our social sphere—someone wealthy, someone who would enhance the family’s status. Instead, he chose my mother—a woman from a humble background, quiet yet strong, who was never enough in their eyes.

Even now, years after their deaths, her disdain for my mother lingers. She can’t hide it. On the rare occasions when she tries to feign civility, her true feelings leak through in every word, glance, and action.

I meet her gaze, and the room falls silent as everyone waits for my response. I take a bite of steak and sip my wine before speaking.

“You should remember your place, Zia, or I’ll be forced to remind you,” I say, my voice sharp. “I am not my father.”

She stiffens but remains silent. The others around us shift uncomfortably. They all know I’m the one in charge here. I paid for her two daughters’ tuition at a private university in England before they eventually married influential men—again, thanks to me. She enjoys a free roof over her head and has maids at her beck and call. I provide her with a monthly allowance, just like I do for the rest of my aunts and all my cousins.

She could lose all of that in the blink of an eye. While my father was loving and kind to his family despite their ungratefulness, I won’t hesitate to cut off anyone who constantly tries to hurt me. Sure, she wouldn’t suffer in the same way if she lost everything I offer her, but she wouldn’t be able to afford her monthly vacations, her ridiculously expensive jewelry, or her membership in the elite social clubs she frequents. And if there’s one thing Zia Camilla loves more than anything, it’s her public image.

They all know this, which is why the rest have to pretend and be more subtle with their jabs. But Zia Camilla likes to push her luck, using her seniority as leverage. Yes, Italian tradition demands respect for elders, but there’s only so much I’m willing to tolerate.

“Of course,” she says, clearing her throat and swirling her wine glass. “I’m sure she’s lovely. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Leonardo lets out a snort before quickly covering it with a cough.

Dry amusement bubbles up inside me, but I keep my face impassive.

“You’ll all get to meet her soon.”

My mind flashes back to Mirabella, and a strange feeling ignites in my chest. She’ll be meeting Luca tomorrow to sign the agreement.

And then, she becomes mine.