Stuck in a Mafia Romance

NO ONE’S POV

Vivien stood right beside the grand buffet table, frantically fanning her face with both hands, trying to force the burning blush away from her cheeks.

"What on earth is wrong with me?!" she muttered fiercely to herself, grabbing some grapes stacking up her mouth. "It’s just a name! It’s a literal collection of letters! So why did I suddenly feel a wave of heat rush through my entire body the second I said it? Did I somehow get drugged without even knowing?!"

Feeling suffocation of the crowded ballroom, she spotted a set of open glass doors leading to a balcony. Desperate to cool herself down, she slipped through the curtains and stepped outside.

The moment she stepped onto the terrace, a sudden, chilly night breeze hit her bare shoulders. She closed her eyes, letting out a long breath. It felt so much better. But as the blush on her face finally began to fade, she realized something else was wrong.

Her throat... it was burning. A strange discomfort was scratching at the back of her throat.

"I need to be so much more careful from now on," she muttered under her breath, walking over to the edge of the railing and looking down at the gardens.

"I am pretty sure Amelia has figured everything out by now. And knowing everything that has happened between us, she probably thinks I am actively trying to steal away her precious billionaire man. But who is going to explain to that crazy woman that HER man is the exact one making MY life a living hell right now?! Tsk."

She sighed, sitting down on chair to rest her aching feet.

"But seriously, why is my throat burning so much more now...?" she thought, her brow furrowing in confusion. She swallowed hard, but the uncomfortable, tightening sensation only grew stronger.

Suddenly, a memory flashed through her mind.

Back in the ballroom, when Amelia had forced the glass into her hand and urged her to drink... Vivien had lifted the crystal to her lips. She hadn’t taken a gulp, but the liquid had touched her lips for a split second before she smelled the chemical sweetness and froze.

Oh no...Vivien’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Don’t tell me that even just a microscopic drop touching my lips was enough to do this... How incredibly powerful was that sedative?! What would have happened to me if I had actually swallowed the whole thing... Damn it!

She gripped her neck lightly with her hand, coughing softly. The air was cold, but the interior of her throat felt increasingly uncomfortable and tight, making her heart begin to race all over again.

Vivien’s eyes looked around the balcony, desperately looking for anything to wash out the terrible taste. Suddenly, her gaze fell over wine bottle resting on a small side table, likely left behind by a VIP guest.

Feeling the uncomfortable, tight burning in her throat grow worse, she didn’t care who it belonged to. She quickly grabbed the decanter and poured herself a full glass. Lifting it to her lips, she took a cautious sip.

It tasted absolutely heavenly. Unlike the spiked drink from earlier, this wine was incredibly smooth, sweet, and bursting with a rich, aromatic fruit flavor. The cool liquid slid down her throat, instantly washing away the chemical burn and soothing her dry mouth.

"Oh, wow... that is amazing," she whispered, a relieved sigh escaping her lips.

Feeling much better but still craving that refreshing coolness, she couldn’t help but pour herself another glass. And then another.

Completely oblivious to how expensive and high in alcohol content the vintage wine actually was, Vivien kept drinking it down like it was sweet juice.

_______________

In the Private VIP Corridor

Meanwhile, far away from the music and laughter of the main ballroom, a suffocating silence hung in a dimly lit hallway.

Dominic stood perfectly still, his towering frame casting a shadow over the shivering waiter trapped in front of him.

"Who ordered you to do that?" Dominic asked, his voice flat.

The waiter shivered violently, his teeth clicking together in pure terror. "I- I... it was just... I don’t..."

Without breaking eye contact, Dominic calmly extended his right hand out to the side.

Instantly, his lead bodyguard stepped forward and placed a sleek black handgun directly into his boss’s open palm.

The cold metallic click of the weapon echoed in the room

The waiter’s eyes widened. His legs gave out completely, and he crashed onto his knees, frantically sobbing and bowing his head to the floor. "Please! Please spare me! I have a family! Please spare my life, Mr. Valente!"

Dominic didn’t even aim the weapon, he just held it loosely by his side, his aura was enough to read his mood. "I will ask you one final time. Who ordered you?"

"It... it was Lady Amelia!" the waiter squealed, his voice cracking with desperation. "She gave me a stack of cash! She told me to put a sedative in the pink cocktail! I didn’t want to do it, I swear! Please!"

Dominic’s eyes became completely frosty, devoid of any human warmth. Beside him, his security men traded uneasy glances. They knew exactly how much power and political influence Amelia’s high-profile family held in the city.

They couldn’t help but wonder... how would their boss deal with this spoiled, arrogant heiress? Would he just let her go with a warning like he always did to avoid a massive public scandal?

Dominic slowly handed the gun back to his bodyguard, never taking his icy gaze off the kneeling man.

"Leave," Dominic commanded softly. "And I had better never see your face in this city ever again."

The waiter trembled violently, nodding his head so hard it hit the floor, before scrambling to his feet and fleeing out the back exit as fast as his legs could carry him.

The lead bodyguard stepped up to Dominic’s side, his face serious. "Boss... shall we silence him permanently? Just to ensure he doesn’t speak to the media?"

"No need," Dominic replied coldly, adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo shirt. He turned his back on the dark corridor and began walking straight back toward the crowded ballroom.

Dominic stood tall as he came face-to-face with Amelia’s father, a polite, entirely hollow smile fixing onto his lips. Having dealt with the man for years in corporate boardrooms, Dominic knew exactly how fake both this father and daughter truly were.

"Ah, Dominic! I have been searching all over the ballroom for you," the older man boomed, stepping forward to shake his hand. As their palms met, the man’s grip tightened a fraction of an inch, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I heard a rumor that you arrived with a rather... unexpected lady tonight. Quite surprising, wouldn’t you say?"

Dominic didn’t care about the subtle show of aggression. His expression remained entirely unbothered. "If we are keeping things strictly personal tonight, sir, then I suppose I could also bring your private secretary into the conversation. How is she doing these days?"

Dominic asked, his tone perfectly calm, hint of unspoken threat.

Amelia’s father’s face instantly burned with embarrassment. He coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat to quickly pivot away.

"Right, well... moving on," the older man muttered, taking a tense sip of his beer. He forced a loud, booming laugh to mask his discomfort. "So, I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been investigating my company’s finances quite a bit lately. I know you might see me as a threat since my firm is doing so exceptionally well- we might even completely compete with the Valente empire in a few years, haha! Or... perhaps we don’t need to be rivals at all. We could just become in-laws and grow our fortunes together."

"I am indeed deeply interested in your company," Dominic replied, his voice smooth. "But I have absolutely zero interest in your daughter. I apologize."

Before Amelia’s father could explode in anger at the blatant rejection, Dominic’s eyes flicked across the ballroom toward the open glass doors of the terrace. The moment he saw the figure walking out, his blood started boiling.

Dominic’s hands tightened into fists inside his pockets.

"Pardon me for a bit," Dominic said, already turning his back on the older man without waiting for permission. "I have some rather urgent, important work to attend to."

Amelia’s father’s face fell instantly, twisting into pure fury as Dominic walked away. He slammed his beer glass down onto a passing waiter’s tray and looked around the crowded room angrily.

"Where on earth is that spoiled girl?!" he hissed under his breath, his eyes scanning the crowd for his daughter. "I literally told her to stick to him like glue today! What a useless child!"

_____________

Vivien felt her eyelids growing heavier by the second, the entire ballroom tilting. Her head felt completely weightless, like a balloon floating away from her shoulders.

Swaying slightly, she tilted her head back, desperately trying to blink away the fog and recover her senses.

"It just... it tastes so sweet," she muttered to herself, her voice thick and slurred as she lifted the glass to take another messy sip of the vintage wine. The rich liquid spilled slightly over her lips, staining them a deep red making her look more seductive.

Suddenly, the noisy chatter of the party seemed to fade into a dull hum. Vivien gasped softly as a very col hand gently cupped the side of her burning face, long fingers slowly caressing her flushed cheek.

The contrast of the freezing skin against her feverish warmth made a sharp shiver run straight down her spine.

She forced her heavy eyelids open, squinting hard as she looked up. She tried to focus her blurry eyes to see exactly who was standing over her, but the towering figure remained out-of-focus blur under the dim lights.

She blinked, her intoxicated brain scrambling for clues. As the person leaned down closer, an incredibly familiar scent washed over her senses.

"Enzo...?" she whispered

The hand Frooze.

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TO BE CONTINUED