MAFIA 90 DAYS BRIDE

CHAPTER FOUR:THE PRICE OF BEING HIS

The morning after the attack, the mansion felt alive with whispers.

Guards patrolled more frequently. Servants moved quickly but with careful eyes, and every guest, every staff member, seemed to carry the memory of the gunshots like a warning.

I hadn’t slept.

How could I?

Damian Voss had kept me close that night, pressed against him like he wouldn’t let the world touch me—and I hadn’t known whether to feel terrified, safe, or dangerously, undeniably drawn to him.

He entered my room as the sun rose, dark eyes sharp, hair slightly disheveled in a way that made him look more human, more dangerous, more… impossible.

“Sleep?” he asked, his voice low, carrying that dangerous calm he always had.

“No,” I said honestly. “How could I?”

“You’re lucky,” he said, stepping closer. “Most people in your position would be shaking, panicked, useless.”

“I’m panicked,” I whispered. “But I’m not useless.”

His lips quirked, almost amused. “Good. I need useful.”

There was a pause—a heartbeat, a breath, a moment when we just stood there in the light spilling from the window.

And in that pause, I realized something I had tried not to admit:

I had begun noticing him. Not just his power. Not just his danger.

His small human moments—the way he touched nothing he didn’t intend to, the way his eyes scanned the room even as he watched me, the way he claimed space without asking permission.

It was magnetic. Terrifying. Wrong.

“You need to eat,” Damian said suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re too pale.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“No,” he corrected. “You need food. Or you’ll be useless tomorrow when we host the people who think they can challenge me.”

I swallowed hard. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “You will be presented officially as my wife. And the world will see you. Some will fear you. Some will want to test you. All will be watching.”

I exhaled shakily. “And if I fail?”

“Then you die,” he said bluntly.

My blood froze.

“Not literally,” he added quickly. “But in their eyes, yes. Fail, and you’ll be nothing. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good,” he said, his gaze softening just enough to make my chest ache. “Then eat. I’ll be back to make sure you do.”

The dinner the next night was like stepping into a war zone disguised as a ball.

Everyone was watching, sizing me up.

Every glance carried judgment. Every smile carried calculation.

And Damian’s hand rested lightly on my back, guiding me, claiming me, signaling silently to anyone who thought they could challenge him: She belongs to me.

The first person to test me was a young man named Enzo, Damian’s associate. He smiled, charming but sharp.

“And this must be the infamous Isabella Romano,” he said, eyes glinting. “Or should I say… Isabella Voss?”

I met his gaze, keeping my chin high. “That’s correct.”

Damian’s hand pressed a little harder against my back. “Don’t give them a reason,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m not afraid,” I whispered.

“You should be,” he replied quietly. “But not of them.”

Later, in a quieter corner of the estate, Damian finally let his mask drop.

“You can’t stay like this forever,” he said, voice low and tense. “Watching. Scared. Wondering if you belong here.”

“I don’t belong here,” I admitted. “Not really. I don’t understand this world, these people.”

“Then you’ll learn,” he said. “Or you’ll break. But I will not let them hurt you. Not while I can stop it.”

The words were both comforting and frightening. He didn’t just protect me—he claimed me.

And the thought both thrilled and terrified me.

“Why do you care?” I asked softly. “I’m just—me.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re not ‘just you’ to me. You’re dangerous in your simplicity. Innocent, untrained, unpredictable… I can’t afford to lose you.”

I blinked. “Lose me?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Because once you’re mine, everything changes. And I don’t know how to let go.”

The words hung between us like a promise and a threat.

That night, alone in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

About the way his hand had pressed against my back, not just guiding me, but claiming me.

About the intensity in his eyes when he said I was dangerous to him.

About the quiet ferocity with which he guarded me, even when no one else was near.

I was falling.

And I knew it.

And that terrified me more than any gun, any threat, any rival in the room that night.

Because falling for Damian Voss—his darkness, his obsession, his control—was a risk I couldn’t walk away from.

And somehow, I knew, neither could he.

By the time the night ended, I understood the rules more clearly than ever:

Stay alive. The world is against us.

Trust Damian. Not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice.

Do not fall in love. And yet, I already had.

And when Damian kissed my forehead as I tried to sleep, brushing my hair back gently, I realized something terrifying:

The ninety-day contract wasn’t just a marriage.

It was a countdown.

A countdown to what would destroy us both.