Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)
Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 40

Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. Forty thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes.

That’s how long it’s been since Mirabella walked out of my life.

I miss her. Terribly. More than words can express.

Every second without her is torture. I miss the sound of her voice, the warmth of her presence, the way she laughs—so light, so easy.

I miss waking up with her beside me, feeling the soft rise and fall of her breath as she sleeps. I miss falling asleep with her in my arms, her hair tangled around my fingers.

Every moment since she left feels like it’s dragging me further into this endless pit. And today, I decide I’ve had enough. I can’t stand the emptiness anymore.

The afternoon sun is fading as I park in front of the sleek glass tower where she works. Global Hope Initiative. It’s an NGO dedicated to providing educational resources and support to underprivileged helping children in war zones, disaster-stricken areas—places that would break your heart if you let them.

Mirabella’s not just working here to build a resume for her future career in international relations—she’s here because this is the kind of person she is—someone who wants to make the world a better place

When I heard she applied for this internship, I couldn’t let it go. I pulled strings, called in favors, did whatever it took to make sure she got the job. The CEO owed me a big one—he’d taken a donation from one of my foundations—and though I promised myself I wouldn’t meddle in her life again, I couldn’t stop myself.

Mirabella has always been too proud to ask for help. And now, as much as she’ll hate me when she replaces out, I can’t stand the thought of her struggling more than she needs to.

I step into the building, the cold air hitting me with a crispness that feels almost too sterile. The scent of fresh paper lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet buzz of activity around me—interns and associates rushing between meetings, phones ringing in the background. My eyes scan the room, and then they lock onto her.

She’s sitting at the front desk, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with a familiar intensity I used to admire so much. She looks tired. There are faint shadows under her eyes, her complexion flushed from the exhaustion. But even in this state, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

I can’t help but watch her for a moment, taking in the subtle changes since the last time I saw her. Her clothes fit her differently now—more snugly, showing off the curves of her body and her protruding tummy. I notice it all—the way her blouse clings to her chest, the way her hips fill out her tailored trousers.

She doesn’t see me yet. And for a moment, I let myself just see her. Really see her, like I haven’t in weeks. It’s obvious that she likes her new job by the way she smiles genuinely when talking to her colleagues, but when our eyes finally meet, her face immediately hardens, that familiar coolness returning.

“Ettore,” she says, her voice clipped. “What are you doing here?”

I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I take a step closer, noticing her posture. Her back is straight, but she’s clearly been standing for far too long.

“Do you stand all day?” I ask, trying to keep the concern out of my voice, though it’s impossible.

She blinks, clearly thrown off. “What?”

“You shouldn’t stand for hours like that, Mirabella. It’s not good for you…”

Her eyes flash, and I can see she’s already shutting me out, the walls going up.

“So, you came all the way here to tell me how to do my job?” Her voice is sharp now, defensive. “How did you even replace out where I work?”

I can feel the heat rising in my chest. Her tone stings, but I force myself to stay calm.

“You’re monitoring me,” she accuses.

“I’m not⁠—”

“So you’re stalking me?” She cuts me off, her words like a slap to the face. “Why am I even surprised?”

I clench my teeth. “I’m not stalking you, Mirabella.” The words come out slower than I expect, but they’re true. I’m not, not in the way she means. But damn, I wish she could understand how much I’ve tried to respect her space, even if that means keeping a distance I hate.

I may have asked her boss to keep an eye on her for me, and I may have reached out to Nonna and Isabella a million times since she blocked me, but that’s it. I didn’t send Luca or any of my men to watch over her.

“And why should I believe you?” She crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing, okay?”

She doesn’t look at me when she replies, her fingers moving furiously over the keyboard. “As you can see, I’m fine. Busy.”

Her coldness hits me harder than I expect. I do see how she’s doing—too damned well. Too well for my own peace of mind. It infuriates me. She doesn’t need to work here—hell, she doesn’t need to work at all. She’s juggling a full-time job, college, and the pregnancy, and she’s doing it all on her own, stubbornly refusing any help.

The pay here is garbage, and the thought of her struggling like this, when I could make everything so much easier for her, drives me insane. It’s maddening that she refuses to accept a single cent of what I send. Instead, she sends it all back, along with a tiny bits of what she calls her “debt owed,” as if she thinks she owes me something. She doesn’t.

She’s trying to pay me back what she claims she owes me for the few months we stayed together while I covered her bills, and the mere thought of that is as annoying as it is funny.

She’s so damned stubborn.

And yet…I can’t help but admire her. Even in this moment, even when she’s pushing me away, I admire her for her pride. But God, it’s making this harder than I thought it would be. It’s absurd, and yet I can’t stop caring. I can’t stop wanting to take care of her.

But I won’t push it. Not now. I’ll keep letting her send her so called ‘debt owed,’ and then I’ll wait until the end of the month to return it all. And more—much more. She and her family will have everything they need. Our children will have everything they need.

I clear my throat, trying to push past the weight in my chest. “Can we talk… later?” I ask her quietly.

Her silence is an answer I know too well. The dismissal. The contempt.

“I’ll be here when your shift ends,” I add, but I don’t expect her to respond. She doesn’t.

So, I wait outside, in my car, parked across the street where I can watch the door. Time crawls by. I watch the sun dip lower, and with it, my patience thins. Conversations run through my mind, my words rehearsed and reshaped. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but when she finally steps through the front doors, my heart stutters. She’s holding her work bag with one arm, her eyes scanning the parking lot, and she’s beautiful in the fading sunlight. The glow around her makes my chest tighten, but I push the feeling away. I can’t let her go. Not like this.

I walk toward her, and she sees me before I get too close. Her expression tightens, and her lips purse as if she’s trying to stop herself from saying something sharp.

“You’re still here,” she says, her voice laced with annoyance.

“I told you I would be,” I reply, stepping closer, matching her stride as I fall into step beside her. “Let me drive you home.”

She doesn’t even look at me when she answers. “I already called an Uber.”

“Cancel it.”

She stops abruptly, turning her head to glare at me, her eyes burning with anger. “There you go again, trying to order me around,” she snaps. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my composure. “I wasn’t trying to—” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just…I really miss you, and I can’t stand seeing you take some stupid cab when I have more than enough cars to drive you anywhere you want to go. Hell, I’ll buy you one if you don’t like any of mine.”

She scoffs, shaking her head, her jaw tight. “This isn’t about cars or money, Ettore, and you know that. If it was, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

The words hit me harder than I expect. I’ve been acting as if it’s about luxury or convenience, but it’s never been about that. “I know, I’m sorry. If that’s how it came across, that’s not what I meant. I just hate seeing you struggle and not let me help.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her chest rising and falling. “Ettore…”

“Please, Bella…” I say her name like a plea, my voice softer now, hoping she can hear the desperation underneath. “Just…let me take care of you. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

There’s a long silence between us. She stands still, her expression vague as if she’s weighing her options.

Finally, she exhales a long, defeated sigh. “Fine,” she mutters, stepping closer. “Let’s go.”

Her words are a like an instant joy, one that gives me the smallest of hope for the dark days I’ve been succumbed to since she left me. And though she hasn’t fully given in, it’s enough to make me feel like I’ve won, even if just a little.

We climb into the car, and the ride is met with silence. The only sound is the hum of the engine, the blur of the city passing by in a wash of neon lights. She’s curled up in the passenger seat, her arms wrapped protectively around her abdomen, her gaze distant as she looks out the window. She’s rubbing her stomach absentmindedly, as if she’s trying to soothe the ache in her heart as much as the ache in her body.

I know what she’s thinking about. The babies. Our future. I feel the same fear twisting in my gut. I want to be the best father to them, to help her raise them, to be everything she needs me to be, but I don’t know how.

“Have you thought about how we’re going to do this?” I ask carefully, breaking the silence because I know the next words won’t be easy. “Raising twins won’t be easy.”

She straightens, her eyes narrowing. She knows exactly where I’m going with this. “I’ll do everything the way I see fit,” she says, her voice sharp with warning. “Don’t you dare start telling me what I should and should not do. I’m not your puppet.”

I feel the heat in my chest rising, frustration bubbling over. “Mirabella, I’m not trying to control you. I just want to be there for you, for our children. I want to help.”

Her gaze hardens, but beneath it, I see the weariness. She’s exhausted. Her voice cracks when she speaks next.

“Support?” she repeats, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Like you’ve done all along? You think I want to depend on you after everything that’s happened? I want to be with my family when I give birth, not isolated in your world.”

Her words cut deep, but I fight to keep my composure. “Of course you’ll be with your family. With everyone you love. I’m not trying to take you away from them. You’re acting like I’d lock you up somewhere. That’s not what I want.”

She laughs but there’s no joy in it. “So, that’s what this is about, right? What you want? You think because I’m carrying your children, I’ll just do whatever you say?”

“Why are you so against me helping you?” My voice is louder now, too loud. I can hear my own annoyance slipping through, but I’m already past the tipping point. So to hell with it, anyway. I’m going to be there for this beautiful stubborn woman, whether she wants me to or not. The sooner she gets it the better.

“I’m the father. We don’t have to agree on everything, but I’m allowed to want to be there for you, for them. I’m allowed to offer help, aren’t I?”

“I don’t want your help,” she snaps, her words biting into me. The stubbornness in her tone makes my hands clench around the wheel.

I breathe through my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. “I have the resources, Bella. I can make this whole journey easier for you. Smoother.”

She shakes her head, her voice full of disgust. “Everything isn’t about your money, Ettore,” she yells. “Your world is dangerous. It swallows people whole, and I won’t have my children trapped in it.”

I want to argue, to tell her how much I would do to protect them—to protect her—but I can’t replace the words.

Anger surges inside me, but I fight to hold it back. I can’t let this turn into another fight. I have to see this from her side, as hard as that is.

“I don’t live that life anymore,” I whisper. “I let it go for you. I’d walk away from it a million times more if it means I can have you again. I’ll protect you—always. I’ll make sure you’re safe. All I need is for you to trust me.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Like the last time?”

“I’m sorry about that,” I say, my voice quiet but sincere as we wind through the busy streets. “Give me a chance to prove that I’m better now. For you. For our children.”

She turns her face away, staring out the window, and a sickening fear grips my chest. The kind of fear that tells me I’ve lost her for good, that nothing I say or do will change anything. But then, after what feels like an eternity, she sighs. Her voice is softer when she speaks again.

“I have scheduled an appointment with the doctor next week,” she says, her tone quieter, almost hesitant. “It’s my first official doctor visit. We can go together if you have the⁠—”

“I’ll make the time, Bella. I promise,” I interrupt. My heart leaps in my chest, relief flooding me like a wave. “Together,” I repeat, the word in my mouth, like it the last two minutes might disappear if I don’t. But it’s something. It’s hope.

The silence in the car settles again, but it’s different now. It’s not as suffocating.

As we pull into her neighborhood, I glance over at her, and I swear I see something shift in her eyes. It’s not trust—not yet. But it’s a flicker of something that may just be the beginning of what I thought was the end. Maybe it’s a hint of the connection we used to have.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself hold on to that. It’s not much, but for now, it’s enough.