Stuck in a Mafia Romance

After finishing her meal, Viella caught her reflection in the mirror and winced, touching her dry, peeling lips.

"Damn, I look horrible," she muttered.

She quickly washed up. She applied a thick layer of moisturizer, smoothing it over her skin with a sigh of relief. It was the only thing she truly loved about this world- well, apart from the food, of course.

As she stepped out into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Every maid she passed lowered their head, eyes darting to the floor, avoiding her gaze They were clearly terrified after what had happened to the other maid.

Viella rolled her eyes, her heels clicking sharply against the marble.

Seriously. That wasn’t even me, she thought.

But then, she stopped mid-stride. She went into deep thought.

If it wasn’t me... then who was it? The original Viella? But how is that possible? She’s dead...

Or maybe it can be possible since Alina and Elias is definitely fixing the plot. But again doesn’t that mean the real Alina’s soul should return too?

Lost in the thought of her own mind, she didn’t notice the hallway narrowing. She kept walking, until—BAM.

She crashed hard into a solid chest. It felt like walking into a stone wall.

The scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne hit her nose instantly.

Viella looked up to see Dante standing still, looking down at her. His eyes were dark and boring into hers as if he were trying to read the thoughts she’d just been having.

"Watch where you’re going, Viella... unless you love getting bumped into me," he said, his voice dropping into teasing.

Viella narrowed her eyes, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat from the sudden impact.

"What are you doing here?"

Dante raised his eyebrows, a flicker of amusement crossing his face.

"I think you’re forgetting this is my house."

"What I meant is..." Viella started, crossing her arms defiantly. "Shouldn’t you be with that maid... what’s her name again? Hm, yeah. Alina."

She stood her ground, her chin tilted up, totally forgetting that she was still wearing nothing but her thin, silky nightgown. As she crossed her arms, the movement pulled the delicate fabric tight, making the curve of her chest a bit more visible than she intended.

Dante’s gaze didn’t stay on her face. It dropped, sweeping slowly over her disheveled state, the moisturizer-slicked skin, the messy hair, and the way the silk clung to her body. The air between them suddenly felt thicker.

His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer, invading her personal space until she could feel the heat radiating off him.

Dante’s eyes flickered away from her for a split second, landing on a maid passing by.

"Why is the air conditioning so low?" he shouted at the maid sounding angry

"It’s boiling hot in here. Put it on high mode. I want this whole mansion to feel like it’s mid-winter. Now."

The maid’s eyes went wide. She bowed so low she nearly hit the floor and hurriedly scurried away to fulfill the nonsensical order.

"Seriously, Dante?!" Viella snapped, hugging her arms closer to her chest more. The silk of her nightgown was already doing a poor job of keeping out the draft.

"It’s already freezing in here. Are you trying to turn this place into a morgue?"

Dante’s gaze raked over her one last time

lingering on her exposed collarbone and the thin straps of her gown before he turned,

"Obviously, you will feel it,"

With that, he walked away with his long legs, leaving her standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Huh? What do you mea—heyyy!" Viella shouted after him, her voice echoing off the marble walls.

"Where are you going without answering my question? Dante!"

He didn’t look back.

Viella stood there huffing, her breath hitching in annoyance. But within seconds, the temperature in the hallway began to drop. The "winter" Dante demanded was arriving fast.

A shiver raced down her spine, and her teeth began to chatter. Just as she was about to retreat to her room, a maid came running toward her, breathless, holding a thick, plush cashmere shawl.

"My lady, please wear this..." the maid whispered, her face flushed with secondhand embarrassment. "You’ll feel cold... especially in your... nightgown."

The realization finally hit Viella. Her eyes dropped to the thin, translucent silk clinging to her curves, and then back to the direction Dante had just walked.

HE WAS DEFINITELY LOOKING AT HER BABIES!!!

In an instant, Viella’s face turned into a bright tomato. The heat from her embarrassment was enough to make her feel hot. She snatched the cashmere shawl from the maid’s hands and wrapped it so tightly around her body she looked like a silkworm in a cocoon.

"I... I knew that! I was just testing the... the insulation!" she sputtered, though no one believed her.

From the end of the corridor, an old, rhythmic chuckle echoed. Nonna had seen the entire exchange from the shadows. She shook her head, a knowing, mischievous glint in her eyes as she adjusted her sunglasses (Yah sunglasses inside the mansion)

"Silly couple," Nonna murmured to herself, laughing softly as she turned the corner and walked away.

As Dante reached the ground floor, a man rushed in, breathless and urgent.

"Boss, something happened in the main headquarters. We need to leave now."

Dante didn’t waste a second. He nodded, his face hardening. But as he reached the massive iron gates of the mansion, he paused. He turned back, his gaze raking over the stone walls and the balcony of the room where a certain "tomato-faced" woman was likely still fuming.

The subordinate, noticing the lingering look, stepped forward.

"Don’t worry, Boss. I made sure the security is tighter than before. Now, not even a cat can enter without permission, nor go out."

A strange, dark flicker passed through Dante’s eyes. He looked at the guards stationed near the heavy oak doors and then back at his man.

"One more thing," Dante commanded, "Change the guards inside. I want every male guard moved to the perimeter. From this moment on, I don’t want a single man inside the mansion. Replace them all with female guards."

The man blinked, visibly confused. "But Boss... the elite squad is mostly-"

"Did I stutter?" Dante’s gaze turned icy. "Outside for the men. Inside, only women. If I find a man in those hallways who isn’t me, I’ll have his head."

The subordinate swallowed hard and bowed. "Understood, Boss. It will be done immediately."

As Dante’s car sped away, the mansion transformed.

The heavy footsteps of the man security guard were replaced by the female security.

30 Minutes Later.

As they reached, Dante paused, his hand hovering over the door handle of his car as his subordinate rushed up, holding a set of badges.

"Boss, we caught the culprit," the man panted, holding the evidence forward. "He had these on him."

Dante looked down, his eyes narrowing as he scanned them. The gold plating looked authentic,

The man continued, his voice lowering in concern.

"He’s probably from the FBI, boss. We checked all the office files immediately, they’re intact. It looks like he was intercepted before he could download anything or move the physical evidence."

A cold, mocking smirk played on Dante’s lips. He reached out, took the heavy badges, and without even a hint of hesitation, he tossed them into a nearby dustbin with a dull clank.

"These are fake," Dante said,

"Fake? But boss, the serial numbers-"

"The FBI doesn’t send agents who get caught by a perimeter sweep..." Dante interrupted, stepping into the back of the black sedan.

"Unless they want us to think they’re from FBI"

Dante entered as the man followed behind him..

The air in the room was thick with the smell of metallic blood. Dante stepped into the room, his expensive shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor

The captive was a mess hair matted, clothes torn, and half-kneeling on the ground with his wrists bound tightly behind him. Even in the dim light, the man looked pathetic compared to the polished Dante.

Dante circled the man once, his smirk widening. He looked like a cat playing with a mouse that had already lost its tail.

"Had fun scrolling somewhere where you shouldn’t be?" Dante asked, his voice dangerous.

He leaned down, getting right into the man’s peripheral vision.

"I hope the view of my servers was worth the price you’re about to pay."

The man stayed silent. His jaw was set, but the slight tremor in his shoulders betrayed the bravado of his silence.

Dante reached out, grabbing the man’s chin and forcing him to look up. "Nothing to say? No ’you have the right to remain silent’ or ’the Bureau will come for me’?"

Dante chuckled, a cold, dry sound. "Of course not. Because we both know those badges in the trash are as real as the ’honor’ among thieves."

He let go of the man’s face with a flick of his wrist, as if he’d touched something dirty.

"Who sent you?" Dante’s tone shifted instantly. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a cold fury.

The man licked his cracked lips, his eyes darting to the shadow behind Dante. Still, he didn’t utter a word.

"Silence is a choice," Dante whispered, pulling out the gloves from his hand and tossing it around.

"But in this room, it’s a choice that has a very high interest rate."

"Boss, shall we torture him?" his subordinate asked, cracking his knuckles and waiting for the signal to start.

Dante didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were busy scanning the man’s body. That’s when he saw it.

A dark, wet patch was blooming through the man’s trouser leg, right at the thigh.

Blood... leaking from the man’s leg.

It wasn’t a fresh wound.

"So, you’re not going to say anything, hmm?"

Dante mused, his voice dropping to a dangerous hum. He didn’t need to beat the information out of him. He recognized that wound.

The man finally spat on the floor, his voice a raspy croak.

"You’ll never know who sent me. You’re just a pawn in a game you don’t even understand."

Dante let out a short, cold laugh that sent a shiver down the spine of every guard in the room. He leaned in close to the man’s ear.

"But I already do," Dante whispered. I recognize the ’handwriting’ on your leg."

The man’s smirk vanished instantly. His eyes widened, reflecting a sudden, paralyzing fear. He realized then that Dante wasn’t just guessing he knew exactly which monster had marked him.

"Kill him,"

Dante commanded, turning his back as if the man had already ceased to exist.

He walked out of the damp cellar, stripping off his leather gloves

"Funny how he thinks he can really fool Dante Velerio Moretti"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED