Stuck in a Mafia Romance

Viellas POV

I looked down at the paper. I had finally copied the entire book. Now, it was time to check those papers... they gave me such a weird feeling. I kept looking at them, a chill creeping up my spine that made me shiver.

Between the blood loss and the late hour, my head felt like it was about to explode. Since it was already past 3:00 AM, my eyes eventually gave up, and I dozed off right there in the chair.

"Tsk, tsk. What poor writing."

A voice snapped me awake. I opened my eyes to see the room was pitch black. Standing right in front of me was the Original Viella. She was holding the copies I had just made, flipping through them with a look of pure disgust.

Ugh, another dream, I thought. I tried to close my eyes to go back to sleep, but she reached out, her fingers cold as ice, and gripped my chin. She forced me to look directly at her.

I raised my eyebrows, unimpressed. "What do you want?"

"So, you’re not scared anymore, huh?" she asked, her voice echoing.

I shook my head. "I know this is a dream. You can’t really do much."

Original Viella frowned, her eyes flickering with irritation before she settled into a smirk.

"Fine. Go back to sleep. You might not even see me anymore, because I won’t appear again to help you."

That caught my attention. I raised an eyebrow. "Help me? How?"

"I’m not saying," she replied, crossing her arms and looking away like a pouting child.

Uff, do I really have to act like a boyfriend trying to stop his girlfriend from being mad? I sighed and shifted my tone to something much more dramatic.

"Lady Viella! You’re the greatest! You’re the best! You’re so awesome! I love your character so much In the book you know? So please, pretty please, help meeee!" I begged, putting on my best puppy-dog eyes.

She looked at me, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Hmm. How about you get on your knees?"

I blinked. Eh... okay, fineee. I slid off the chair and got onto my knees, looking up at her. "Please, pretty please?"

She smirked, looking satisfied. "Fine."

She sat on the table with her legs crossed. The blood was still dripping from her abandoned, staining the white wood but she doesn’t seem to care much. Our eyes met,

"Doesn’t that hurt?" I asked softly, pointing at her wound.

"The dead can’t feel pain," she shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," I said, my mouth forming a perfect ’O’ shape.

"Well, let’s get to the main point," she said, leaning in. "Do you know why Elias wanted to see you?"

I shook my head. "I saw he wrote it in the book, but I have no idea why."

"It’s because he wanted to check if the Original Viella-meaning me-is back in the body."

My eyes widened. The realization hit me like a truck. "Is that why you’re showing up in my dreams and... THAT DAY!!! It was actually YOU who took over my body?"

"What do you think?" she replied with a cryptic tilt of her head.

I finally connected all the dots. My heart started racing. "Then... did I really go back to my original world for a moment?"

She nodded slowly. "Only for a short time. Because I pulled you back."

"But WHYYYY?!!" I yelled, my frustration boiling over. "You know how badly I want to go back to my world! I hate it here!"

Rolling her eyes as if I were the slowest student in class she said, "That’s what Elias wants. For you to return to your original world and for me to come back here so he can finish me off according to the plot... but by the time I die... you’ll die too."

"But WHYYYY?" I groaned, throwing my hands up. "I’ll be out of this world, though! I’ll be back home with my snacks and my internet! How can I die then???"

"Isn’t that obvious?" she countered, her voice dropping into a chilling tone. "You are here because of my curse. Until my wish is fulfilled, you can’t escape. You’re bound to me... bound to this body, Vivien."

I froze. My breath hitched in my throat as I raised my eyebrows, staring at her in genuine shock. "But why-wait. How do you know my name?"

"Hmmm... I myself don’t know," she said, examining her blood-stained nails with total indifference. "I had it in my memories. Only you could have such a filthy, common name, so I decided to call you that." She shrugged, the insult sliding off her tongue.

I glared at her, fuming internally, but I made sure she didn’t notice. Filthy? My name is a classic!

"Anyways, it’s time for me to sleep," she said, her image beginning to blur into the shadows of the room. "I gave you the hints you wanted. Now, you better work fast." She leaned in, her cold breath ghosting against my ear as she whispered, "I want Alina and Elias dead in three days."

"But how-!"

Before I could finish my sentence, everything plunged back into total darkness. The weight of exhaustion pulled me under, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The Original Viella stood over the sleeping girl, looking down at her with a cold gaze.

"I wonder," the spirit whispered, her translucent hand hovering over the copies of the book, "if this foolish girl can even survive these three days."

_____________

NO ONE’S POV

The atmosphere in the grand dining room was thick.

Lily, now freshened up and back in clean uniform, stepped onto the marble floor and approached the breakfast table.

Viella and Lucian were already seated, but the silence between them was intense for some reason.

A deep, irritated frown was etched onto Lucian’s majestic face, his eyes fixed firmly on his plate. Across from him, Viella looked like she had quite literally crawled out of a war.

Her hair was a bird’s nest of tangles, and the dark circles under her eyes were darker than her future.

They didn’t exchange a single word, the only sound was the clicking noise of fork against the plate.

Lily stood by the sideboard, watching the tension simmer until it finally boiled over.

"Hey, Lucian, pass me the juice," Viella muttered, her voice raspy from her sleepless night.

Lucian didn’t even blink. He continued to cut his sausage completely ignoring her existence.

"HEYYY!!" Viella barked, slamming her hand, the unbandaged one on the table.

Lucian kept eating, his jaw tight.

"I am talking to you, Lucian!"

Finally, Lucian snapped. He set his fork down with a sharp clack and looked at her, his eyes flashing with aristocratic fury. "How shameless can you be, huh? First, you barge into my house without permission, dragging your mess into my place and now you’re sitting there looking like a homeless shit and bossing me around?!"

Viella leaned back, a tired but defiant smirk playing on her cracked lips. "Hah... I have no shame at all. What are you going to do about it, huh? Now pass me the juice."

Lucian stared at her for a long, tense moment, his nostrils flaring. He looked like he wanted to call the guards, but instead, he let out a sharp, annoyed exhale. He rolled his eyes and shoved the crystal pitcher of orange juice toward her with enough force that it skidded halfway across the table.

"Eat quickly," Lucian snapped, looking over at Lily. "And you! make sure she brushes her hair before anyone arrives. I won’t have the help thinking I’ve taken in some homeless woman"

Before Viella could even bring the glass to her lips, a sharp, frantic burst of noise erupted from the large television in the corner of the dining room.

"Mr. Dante Moretti! Please, tell us-your wedding is in three days! Why is there no update yet?"

Viella choked on air, her eyes snapping toward the screen as she nearly dropped the crystal glass.

"Seriously, this guy is never going to leave me alone, is he?" she hissed, her face pale. "Lily, turn it off. Now."

Lily moved toward the remote, but Lucian’s voice cut through the room,

"Let it stay, Lily," Lucian commanded, leaning back and crossing his legs with a look of pure entertainment.

"This is my house, so only my orders will be listened to. I want to see how my dear friend handles this mess."

On the screen, Dante stood in front of a sea of flashing cameras. These were clearly new reporters-young, hungry, and completely unaware of the lethality behind Dante’s silent stare. They swarmed him like flies.

"Mr. Moretti, please tell us... are you planning a private wedding? The richest man in the industry hosting a secret ceremony?"

"Mr. Moretti, we expected a grand celebration, but there’s been no update at all! Is the bride-to-be, Miss Viella disappeared again?"

"Yes, Mr. Moretti! In fact, paparazzi found you with a maid in your own restaurant yesterday! Is the engagement in trouble?"

The questions piled up, one after another, a chaotic wall of noise that didn’t give him a second to breathe. Dante stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable, until he finally let out a slow breath.

The crowd went instantly, terrifyingly silent.

Dante adjusted his tie, his dark eyes boring into the camera. "Hmm..." he started, his voice a low.

"Why should I answer you?"

The reporters retreated a step, the air visibly sucked out of the room.

"Hah! He’s so cocky," Viella muttered, her grip tightening on her juice glass.

Lucian chuckled, picking up his coffee. "He’s not being cocky, Viella. He’s being bored

The tension in the dining room spiked as the reporter on the screen leaned in, his voice buzzing with a mix of fear and desperation for an answer.

"Mr. Moretti, everyone is eager to know... is the wedding actually happening?"

"Of course it will," Dante replied, his voice a low. He looked directly into the lens, his dark eyes narrowing with a predatory focus. "No matter what happens, the wedding will go on... and no one can stop it."

Viella felt a cold shiver crawl up her spine. "Why do I feel like he’s staring right at me?" she whispered, her heart skipping a beat.

"And the bride?" the reporter pressed, emboldened by the answer. "Who is it going to be? Miss Viella, or the mai-" He stopped midway, the air in the press room turning thick with Dante’s sudden, silent pressure.

"He really has some guts to ask that," Viella muttered.

"Pfft, ahahaha!" Lucian burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair with a delighted grin. "He’s gone-so, so gone. I hope that reporter enjoys his very short time on this earth today."

On the screen, Dante’s lips curled into a sharp, dangerous smirk. "If everyone is still confused, then I will let them be... the truth will be revealed on the wedding day."

"The wedding is in three days," another journalist piped up. "So, Mr. Moretti, will we see a grand party anytime soon?"

Dante nodded slowly. "Of course. In exactly two days-forty-eight hours from now-me and my fiancée will host a grand gala to celebrate our union."

"Why do I feel like he’s saying that to me instead of the reporters?" Viella breathed, her eyes glued to his face.

"Looks like he is," Lucian said, taking a calm sip of his drink, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Viella rolled her eyes, her anxiety peaking as a final question cut through the noise.

"Mr. Moretti, it was reported that Miss Viella was seen driving a black Ferrari across the city... exactly the same day you were seen with the maid. Did you two have a fight?"

Viella bolted upright, her chair screeching against the marble floor. "WHY DID THEY HAVE TO MENTION THE BLACK FERRARI?! OH SHIT, HE’S GOING TO REMEMBER IT!"

"Guess it’s no longer my fault now, ehe," Lucian teased, giving her a mock-innocent look. Viella turned and glared at him.

But before they could hear Dante’s response, the screen suddenly went pitch black. The room fell into silence.

"Heyy! I wanted to hear his answer!" Viella shouted, waving her arms at the TV.

Lucian stood up, smoothing his pristine suit jacket without a care in the world. "Like I said-it’s my house. I will do as I please." With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned on his shoe and walked away.

"SERIOUSLY!!!" Viella fumed, her hands twitching with the sudden, violent urge to pull every single hair out of her brother’s perfectly groomed head

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED