Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)
Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 17

It’s been exactly ten hours, thirty minutes, and twenty-seven seconds since Ettore and I were declared husband and wife in front of a crowd of family and friends.

Ten hours of pretending to be madly in love. Way too much time spent smiling and laughing, all because I know cameras are watching and people are ready to scrutinize every move I make.

Ten hours of being a Greco.

Thankfully, the party is starting to wind down. Most guests have already gone home, and those who remain are too buzzed or caught up in their own conversations to pay me any mind. After dancing with me for a bit, Ettore disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to navigate this sea of people alone.

This is the first moment I’ve had to breathe since this whole spectacle began. My eyes scan the expansive garden, searching for my family. I slip away from a small group of guests, feeling a twinge of anxiety as I look for familiar faces. The laughter around me fades into the background, and when I don’t see Nonna, Mamma, or Giulia, I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Nonna.

“Where are you guys?”

It takes just a few seconds before her reply pings back.

“I was looking for you, too. Meet me by the fountain outside the garden.”

I wind through a group of women in glittering dresses, flashing them a smile as they turn to watch me pass. The night air feels chillier as I make my way toward the fountain. When I get close, I spot Nonna standing there, arms folded across her chest, her expression filled with relief.

Her face softens at the sight of me, and I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as I close the gap between us. I’ve never been so grateful to see her.

“Mirabella, figlia mia,” she murmurs, pulling me into a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her lavender perfume instantly soothes my nerves.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper, feeling the weight of everything settle as I lean into her. It’s only been a few hours, but the thought of spending the next year apart from her makes my heart ache.

I’ve always been very close to Nonna, even before my mom got sick. After my father left us when Giulia was born, my grandmother stepped in and has taken care of us ever since.

We pull away, and she looks at me, her eyes swirling with emotions.

“I’m sorry, Mira, for how I spoke to you earlier. It sounded extremely ungrateful, and I regret it,” she begins, her voice low. “I know the sacrifices you’ve made so that your mother can afford her treatment, we have food on the table, and Giulia can go to high school like other kids.”

My heart softens at her apology.

“It’s okay, Nonna. I expected you to react that way. I would be upset too if, in the near future, Giulia told me she was marrying a stranger just for money,” I reply, trying to lighten the mood.

Nonna smiles, taking my hand and brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “You mentioned earlier that your husband promised to help us. Well, you were right. Ettore…he’s already done so much for us in just a few hours of your marriage,” she says, her tone cautious but hopeful. “New things have been delivered to the house. He even offered to move us to a better apartment, but I turned him down. You know I have an unhealthy attachment to that place.” She chuckles, and I can’t help but smile, too.

“Also, he’s arranged a car and a driver for Giulia’s school, and Isabella is starting her treatment at a private hospital tomorrow. She’ll receive the intensive care she needs.”

The news takes me by surprise. I knew Ettore said he would help us, but I didn’t realize he would act so quickly.

“He didn’t tell me,” I murmur, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

“I think he’s not as bad as I thought him to be,” she admits, but hesitation lingers in her eyes. “But, Mirabella, I don’t want you to feel obligated to him just because he’s doing these things. If it means selling you off to this man, I’m ready to walk away from it all. I don’t care if I have to replace a job at my age. I’m still strong, and I’ll figure out a way to support you. Together, we’ll pay off our debts. We’ll survive, just like we always have.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me momentarily speechless. Nonna has always been the pillar of our family, but to hear her offer to work just so I can escape…it breaks my heart. I grip her hand tighter as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

“The real reason I turned down the new apartment he offered us is so you’ll have somewhere to run if things become too overwhelming,” she continues, her voice steady. “We need a place that isn’t tied to him. If you ever feel like you can’t stay with him anymore, you can always come home. You’ll always have a place with us.”

Her voice trembles slightly, and I feel a lump in my throat. I blink back tears, refusing to let them fall.

“Nonna, listen,” I say, my voice soft yet firm. “I’m okay. Ettore…he’s not like that. This marriage is for a greater good, and I’m not being taken advantage of, I promise.” I pause, searching for the right words to reassure her. “He’s a man of his word. It’s not as bad as it seems. I plan to enroll in college again and finish my degree. Our marriage may not be perfect or real, but something good is coming from it.”

Nonna’s eyes search mine, and slowly, a small smile begins to emerge. “College, eh? You’ve always wanted to go back to college. I’m glad you get to experience that. And as Giulia said, at least your husband isn’t old or ugly.”

We both laugh, and the knot in my chest loosens a little. It feels good to remind myself of the positives and why I accepted this arrangement in the first place.

“Vai a dormire presto,” she says, patting my cheek lovingly. “You’ve had a long day. It’s late, and I’m sure your mother is tired. We need to head home.”

We walk back toward the garden, and she leads me to the corner where Giulia and my mother are seated. I escort them to meet the driver Ettore assigned for them, bidding them farewell before watching as the car drives away.

Once they’re out of sight, the unease in my chest returns. I glance back at the garden, where the party continues, the low hum of voices and clinking glasses echoing in the distance. Exhaustion seeps into my bones, so I make my way back toward the garden, spotting Luca in the crowd. He stands near the edge of a table, his usual stoic expression watching over everything.

“Luca,” I call softly as I approach. He turns toward me, eyebrows slightly raised when he sees me. “Can you let Ettore know I’m heading in?”

His gaze flickers over to Ettore, who is deep in conversation with some guests. His posture is tense, and a serious expression is etched on his face. They’re likely discussing business, and I’m not in the mood to play the perfect wife and wait for him to finish.

“Of course,” Luca replies with a nod. “I’ll let him know.”

As I watch him walk away, I can’t help but feel a mix of anxiety and anticipation. The night may be winding down, but for me, the challenges are just beginning.

With that, I slip inside the main house, the noise of the party fading behind me. Just then, Clara passes by, and I’m hit with the memory of this morning’s events.

“Clara,” I call out.

She turns to look at me, and I notice her freeze for a moment before approaching.

“I’m sorry…about this morning. I wasn’t…I couldn’t…”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” she replies with an easy smile. “Like I told you, I understand how wedding mornings can be.”

I exhale in relief, appreciating her understanding.

“Can you lead me to my room?” I ask, even though I know the way. I just want to ease the tension between us. After all, she’s going to be my personal maid for the next year.

As she guides me up the stairs, the thought of spending the night in Ettore’s room flashes through my mind, and heat rises to my cheeks. If we were a normal couple, this would be the time when I’d retire, take a shower, and prepare for a special wedding night.

As we walk down the long corridor, I suddenly realize we’ve passed my room and are continuing forward.

“Uh…I think we are headed the wrong way,” I say, a hint of concern creeping into my voice.

Clara turns to me, confusion evident on her face. “Your things were taken to the boss’s room earlier,” she says carefully. “You are married to him now.”

Right. We need to make everyone believe this marriage is real.

But Ettore had promised! I’d laid out my terms and told him I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room with him.

Clara’s gaze remains fixed on me, expectant, perhaps questioning why I’m hesitating. If anyone might not buy our sham of a marriage, it’s her. First, my escape attempt this morning, and now this?

I fumble for words, trying to explain the situation. “I…I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not, uh, planning to…”

Before I can finish, a voice drips with ice from behind me. “Well, well, well. Why wouldn’t Ettore Greco’s wife want to sleep in her husband’s room?”

I freeze, slowly turning to face Zia Camila. Her lips curl into a knowing smirk, as if she’s savoring the moment, and the women beside her lean in, their eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and malice.

I scoff inwardly, realizing they’ve been anticipating this since the announcement of my marriage to their beloved nephew—ready to ambush me, eager to witness my discomfort.

Too bad I’m not in the mood for their games.

As I fold my arms across my chest, preparing for a confrontation, I can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of the year—enduring their condescension and judgement at every turn.

I was ready to escape into some much-needed rest, but it appears the night is far from over. In fact, this…this seems to be the opening act of what’s to come.