Dark Mafia Bride: Chapter 33

The café buzzes around me, the noise of clinking cups and low conversations barely reaching my ears as I sit across from Milo. My eyes stay glued to the laptop screen, scanning my professor’s comments for what feels like the hundredth time. I keep hoping they’ll magically change, but the words remain just as harsh, taunting me.

“Your paper would benefit from a deeper exploration of the connections between historical tensions and current policies. Without addressing these key links, your argument comes across as incomplete and lacks the depth of analysis expected at this level of study.”

The sick feeling in my stomach tightens, the words a bitter reminder that I’ve failed. I thought I’d nailed it. I’d poured hours into research, carefully structuring my thoughts, and had analyzed multiple perspectives with precision. But apparently, none of that mattered. It wasn’t enough.

I blink hard, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill, but they come anyway, blurring the words on the screen. I scroll down, hoping for a hint of something that might redeem me, but it’s just more of the same.

Milo must notice the look on my face because he leans forward, his voice a little deeper, laced with concern. “Hey, Mirabella, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head, swallowing thickly as I try to keep myself together. “I just… I messed up the last project. I—” My voice catches in my throat, and I stop. I can’t hold it in anymore. The tears come fast now, stinging the corners of my eyes. It’s not just the paper. It’s everything—the pregnancy, the highs and lows of my relationship with Ettore—it’s all too much. I feel like I’m drowning. A tear escapes, slipping down my cheek before I can stop it.

Milo leans over, close enough for me to feel the heat of his presence, and his voice softens. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just one project. You’ve got plenty of time to turn things around before the end of the semester.”

But it doesn’t feel that way. I don’t even know how to explain what I’m really struggling with. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to hold it all together, but the tears just keep falling. I bury my face in my hands, embarrassed by the sudden outburst.

Milo doesn’t hesitate. He slides in next to me, pulling me into an embrace. His warmth should be comforting, but instead, something about it feels off. I sink into the hug, hoping the closeness will provide some relief, but when his hand tightens around me, pulling me in closer, I’m hit with that unsettling feeling again—the feeling that this is more for him than just a friendly gesture.

I pull away, wiping my eyes, mortified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, his voice soft. “Everyone has rough days.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing away the tears on my cheeks. His touch lingers too long, and before I can pull back, his hand cradles my face, and his lips press against mine in a kiss that’s far too sudden and far too forceful.

For a split second, I freeze, unable to process what just happened. Then, instinct takes over. I jerk back, shoving him away with both hands.

“What the hell, Milo?!” I can’t contain the scream, my voice cutting through the café’s noise. Heads turn, but I don’t care. My heart races, a mixture of confusion, anger, and betrayal. I scoot away from him, shaking my head. “Don’t ever do that again!”

“M-Mirabella, I⁠—”

“No,” I cut him off, my voice shaking with fury. I grab my things, stuffing them hastily into my bag with trembling hands. “That was completely out of line. I told you there’s nothing more to this. You kissed me without my permission.”

He exhales, clearly frustrated, but his apology is too little, too late.

“I’m sorry…”

But I don’t want to hear it. Without another word, I storm out of the café, my face flushed with anger, my stomach in knots from the emotional chaos. I thought of Milo as a friend—hell, I trusted him. Why would he do something like that?

I can feel the heat of my fury simmering as I walk to the parking lot. Logan is waiting by my car, just as I’d told him to. I’d mentioned that I was meeting up with a friend to study, but now I wonder if Ettore insisted he wait for me. Something about it doesn’t sit right, and the feeling lingers like a bad taste in my mouth.

I slip into the backseat, the familiar hum of the car engine starting up, but instead of giving Logan the address to my place, I tell him to head to Giovanni and Alessia’s house. The drive is quiet, the twenty minutes stretching out as I try to ignore the whirlwind of emotions in my head. When we finally pull up in front of their building, I don’t waste any time. I climb out of the car and head for the front door.

Before I even get a chance to knock, Giovanni answers the door, his eyes immediately locking onto my flushed face and the puffiness around my eyes.

“What did he do?” His voice is low, protective—almost a growl, and it’s impossible to miss.

I try to brush it off, forcing a weak laugh that escapes despite the heaviness weighing on my chest. I’m touched by his outburst, but I can’t help but wonder if he really thinks he could go toe-to-toe with Ettore.

“Ettore didn’t do anything to me.”

Giovanni doesn’t look convinced as he pulls me into the apartment, locking the door behind us as if I’m in immediate danger. “I find that hard to believe,” he mutters, leading me toward the living room.

I try to muster a smile, but it fades instantly, and I let out a shaky breath. “I just had a rough day. Do you mind if I hang out here for a while?”

“Of course not.” Giovanni exhales, pulling me into a warm, brotherly hug. The moment his arms wrap around me, I feel the walls I’ve been holding up start to crack, and I can’t hold back the tears any longer. They spill down my cheeks, hot and heavy.

From the kitchen, I hear Alessia’s voice. “I heard Mira’s voice just now,” she says, before I hear her sharp intake of breath. “What happened? I told him I’d cut off his balls if he messed with you,” she says, rushing towards us with concern written all over her face.

I sniff, pulling away from Giovanni to wrap my arms around Alessia instead. “Who?”

“Ettore, of course. Isn’t this because of him?”

“Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t actually threaten to cut off my husband’s balls to his face.” I pause, half smiling. “You do realize he has men who could easily make you disappear for that, right?”

She huffs. “Of course, but I’d like to see him try. Now, don’t change the subject—what happened? And since you’re still referring to him as your husband, I’m guessing your sobbing has nothing to do with him?”

“Nooo.” I chuckle, wiping away a tear.

“Oh, thank God,” Alessia sighs in relief. “For a minute there, I thought I was gonna have to smack him in the face and then move to another country.”

“Not so quick with the smart mouth, huh?” I tease.

“Have you seen the muscles on that guy?” Alessia shoots back. “One hit from him and I’d be sporting a face only a mother could love. And I can’t afford plastic surgery—at least not until I get some better clients.”

“I’ll protect you, baby,” Giovanni adds, with an exaggerated wink.

“Yeah, right. You couldn’t even kill the spider we saw last week.”

“Babe!”

“What? She already knows you’re all talk and no action.”

I burst out laughing as Giovanni smacks Alessia on the ass playfully, then pulls her into a hug from behind, shooting me a look.

“So, why did you both come to the conclusion I was crying over Ettore?” I ask, finally starting to calm down.

“What conclusion?” they both ask, looking at me like I’m speaking a different language.

“That I was crying because of Ettore. It could’ve been anything else. My mom, my annoying in-laws—heck, even hormones! I tear up at the slightest thing these days.”

“Well, we’ve kind of been expecting you to burst in here any day now, singing some tragic love song with his name on your lips,” Alessia says.

“Why?”

“Because he’s a bad person,” Giovanni spits without hesitation.

“Babe,” Alessia chides, giving him a pointed look.

“What? We can’t keep hiding the truth from her. She has to know.”

“Know what?” I ask, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“That Ettore Greco is as sinister as they come. At least, he used to be.”

I know that. He killed three men to save my life the first time I met him. But I still haven’t told my friends the whole story. I don’t want to get into it right now—not until I hear what they know.

“What exactly did he do to make you hate him so much?” I ask, wiping the last of my tears as we all settle onto the sofa.

“I don’t hate him,” Giovanni clarifies quickly, though there’s no missing the bitterness in his voice. “I just hate him for you. He’s dangerous, Mira. Men like Ettore have no business being involved with a good woman like you.”

“Did you know he’s involved in the mafia?” Alessia asks softly, her eyes searching mine.

I nod, my throat dry. “I know he’s involved in some shady dealings…”

“Some shady dealings?” Giovanni scoffs, his voice full of disbelief. “That man is a murderer, Mira. He’s killed entire families, burned down his rivals’ businesses just for fun.”

My stomach churns as his words sink in. I’ve always known Ettore was dangerous, but hearing Giovanni say it out loud in such brutal detail makes my skin crawl.

“I work in the nightclub industry,” Giovanni continues, his voice dropping a notch, almost reluctant to share more. “I’ve seen a lot—been around a lot of powerful, wealthy men, and I’ve heard things. Things about how Ettore deals with anyone who crosses him…” He pauses, his eyes darkening slightly. “It’s brutal. Merciless. He doesn’t hesitate to kill.”

I swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vise, but Giovanni isn’t finished. “But, as much as it pains me to admit it, I think he’s pulling away from that life now,” he says, his voice softening as he looks at me. “And I think a big part of that is because of you.”

My heart skips a beat, and I can’t help the mixture of warmth that floods through me. It’s like a tidal wave, building slowly in my chest.

“Yeah. Word gets around fast in these parts,” Giovanni continues. “It’s been said he’s decided to go clean since his expansion, since he went public with your marriage. I don’t like the guy, but I don’t think he’d intentionally cut ties with people like he has over the past few months just to project some family image. In his world, connections are everything—even shady ones. Yes, he has to keep up a front, pretending he no longer associates with certain people. But to actually cut them off—powerful cartels, influential backers that support his empire? That’s big. Means there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

“So you think it’s because of me?” I force myself to stay calm, even as my chest tightens, anxiety swirling inside me.

Giovanni shrugs, his expression serious. “He opted out of one of the biggest society clubs in the city. And I overheard my boss saying that when they asked Ettore why, he told them to ‘mind their fucking business.’ Sounds like he’s pussy-whipped to me.”

Alessia smacks him on the shoulder, and Giovanni groans. “What? Those were your words, not mine.”

“Wow,” I mutter quietly, not trusting myself to say anything more. The realization stirs something inside me, a strange cocktail of emotions.

Alessia, sensing the shift in mood, leans back with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling. “Can we change the topic now?” she teases, her tone light and mischievous. “I’ve been dying to hear some gossip. So…how was the honeymoon?”

Her sudden shift in energy helps break the tension, though a small part of me wonders if the truth of what Giovanni said will hit me later, when I’m alone with my thoughts.

Her question catches me off guard, and I feel my cheeks heat up, the memories of our trip flooding back. “It was nice. We got to know each other better. We did a lot of fun stuff. Had dinner on the beach, bathed in the sun…”

And then, the things we don’t talk about. Confessed our feelings, had amazing sex on the beach.

Alessia raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Sounds like you had a really good time, with you being vague and all.” she says with a naughty smile. “Fine, don’t give me details. But you look…good. You’re glowing. You’re happy…”

“I am happy,” I exhale, and for a moment, I ignore the guilt gnawing at my chest, ignore the panicked thoughts about our future.

“I know Ettore acts tough and emotionally unavailable,” I continue, “but on that island, I saw a side of him I’d never seen before. He was loving, caring, attentive…” I sigh, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Giovanni and Alessia exchange a look, and I feel the tension shift in the room.

“Our best friend is in love,” Alessia gushes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so happy for you, girl. The man you just described—he doesn’t sound like the Ettore at all. He’s totally smitten.”

I can’t help but smile, her joy infectious. “I don’t know what to say.” I laugh, feeling a warmth spread through me. “It feels too good to be true sometimes.”

The rest of the afternoon slips by in a blur of laughter and playful teasing. Giovanni and Alessia somehow manage to make me forget, even if just for a few, the weight of the world pressing down on me. For those precious hours, I feel lighter than I have in so long, like I’m breathing easier, free from the worries and uncertainties that have been gnawing at me.

I even tell them about Milo, and Giovanni makes a big show of wanting to follow me to the university the next day and punch his teeth in. It’s ridiculous, but it makes me laugh—something I hadn’t exactly been doing when I got here.

But deep down, beneath the laughter and the joking, there’s a truth I’ve been hiding—one that’s eating at me more than I care to admit. As the day fades into evening, I realize with a clarity I haven’t felt in weeks that if I want to keep feeling this way, if I want to break free from the suffocating guilt that’s been suffusing everything, I have to tell Ettore the truth. All of it. There’s no other way.

When it’s finally time to leave, Alessia and Giovanni walk me downstairs where Logan is waiting for me by the car. Before I can get inside, I grab Alessia’s arm, pulling her aside.

“I’m going to tell Ettore everything. No more stalling,” I whisper, the words coming out heavier than I expect.

Her eyes widen. “You mean about the baby?”

I nod solemnly. “I can’t keep it from him any longer. It’s not fair to either of us. If we really stand a chance together, I have to brave enough to see if he acts up when I tell him.”

Alessia takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “That’s the right thing to do,” she says, her voice full of quiet support. “When are you going to tell him?”

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Tonight,” I say, the finality of the word making my heart race. I know it won’t be easy, but it’s the only way forward.

She nods, her eyes full of understanding. “You’ve got this. I’m proud of you, Mira.”

I force a weak smile and finally step into the car. As Logan starts the engine and pulls away, the nervous energy begins to coil tighter inside me. Every mile that takes me closer to home feels like it’s stretching out the inevitable.

Tonight, everything will change.

And all I can do is hope it changes for the better.