Caught Between The Mafias

Chapter 5: NOT YOURS

“Ma’am…”

The word drifted through my sleep, distant and soft, like part of a dream.

“Miss?” another voice tried.

“Mrs. Luther,” someone else said, more firmly.

No. That wasn’t right.

“She’s not married yet,” a different voice whispered.

“They’re engaged,” another replied. “That’s basically the same thing.”

“Should we shake her?”

The voices tangled together, pulling me slowly toward consciousness. I frowned, my body heavy, my mind still fogged.

When I finally opened my eyes, four faces hovered above me, wide-eyed and unfamiliar.

I jolted upright with a sharp gasp.

They startled back at the same time.

“Oh. Good evening, ma’am.”

“We’re so sorry, we didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“We apologize for disturbing your sleep.”

I blinked, my heart still racing, eyes darting from one face to the next. “Who are you?”

“We’re your glam team,” one of them said quickly. “Hair, makeup, wardrobe. We’re here to get you ready for tonight.”

I swallowed. “Who let you in?”

There was a brief pause.

“Madam Mary,” another answered. “We knocked, but you didn’t respond, so she let us in.”

Of course she did.

I said nothing, only exhaled slowly as I pushed the covers aside, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, making my way toward the styling chair already set up for me.

Privacy, it seemed, was yet another thing I no longer owned.

The preparations took nearly three hours.

They moved around me with practiced ease, brushing, pinning, adjusting. Hands everywhere, voices filling the room.

Most of their chatter blurred together, but one thing came up again and again: how lucky I was.

Lucky to be marrying the richest, most desirable bachelor in New York. Lucky to be living every woman’s dream.

One of them even laughed softly and said, “I would give anything to be in your place right now.”

I offered a practiced smile, something that came easily now, even as I thought about how willingly I would trade it all for her anonymity, her simplicity, her ordinary life.

It had only been a few hours, but I already missed my world: smaller, quieter, and most importantly, mine.

The mirror caught my attention as I lifted my head, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

The woman looking back at me was flawless. Polished. Beautiful in a way that felt unreal, like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine spread I used to flip through without thinking I could ever belong there.

I barely recognized myself. And for the first time that night, I didn’t hate it.

“You look absolutely stunning, ma’am,” someone said behind me.

The words stirred something dangerous: confidence. I held onto it briefly before grounding myself. I had a plan. Still… there was nothing wrong with looking devastating while executing it.

Movement behind me caught my eye.

“Ma’am,” one of the girls said, lifting the velvet-purple dress I’d discarded earlier. “I think it may have fallen. We can straighten it for you.”

“I won’t be needing it,” I replied defensively, already moving toward the closet.

Silk and velvet brushed my fingertips as I searched. Then I found it. Sultry. Black. Unapologetic. Exactly wrong, and exactly right.

As they helped me into it, I felt their hesitation. One cleared her throat.

“Ma’am… don’t you think it’s a little too revealing for tonight?”

I met her gaze in the mirror, sharp and unwavering.

“This dress is perfect,” I said coolly. “You can leave now.”

When I was finally alone, I studied my reflection, the curve of the dress, the quiet fire in my eyes.

A slow smile curved my lips.

“You’re ready.”

Knock-knock.

The sound at the door pulled me out of my moment.

“Come in,” I said, my heart fluttering, already expecting Aunt Mary. I straightened instinctively, bracing myself for the inevitable argument.

But the door opened slowly, and a young woman in black uniform peeked in instead. She hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to my reflection in the mirror before dropping respectfully.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” she said softly. “But the party has begun. Your presence will be announced shortly.”

I gave a small nod. “Of course.”

“If you’ll follow me, ma’am.” She stepped aside to let me pass.

As she led me through the corridors, I could see the hall was alive now. Music drifting upward, threaded with voices and laughter. Crystal chandeliers casting warm lights.

She stopped just before the grand hall entrance.

“Please wait here,” she said. “You’ll be announced momentarily.”

I watched her hurry forward, whisper into the announcer’s ear.

Then—

“It is with great pleasure that I introduce the future bride and queen of the Luther empire…” the man boomed, “the beautiful Layla Smith.”

Smith.

So he really did it.

Kept the truth locked away from everyone.

I lifted my chin and stepped into the light.

Applause filled the room, polite at first, then swelling, filling the space as dozens of eyes turned toward me.

I didn’t hear what they said, but I saw it.

The glances that lingered too long.

The subtle nudges.

The way some heads bent together, eyes moving briefly to my dress before darting away.

A few even pointed, quickly, as though afraid of being caught.

My pulse quickened as I held my head high and pressed forward.

Halfway down, a hand suddenly closed around my arm.

“What are you wearing?” Aunt Mary hissed, lips barely moving. “This is not what I told you—”

I slipped free, with a single controlled motion, and met her stare with one of my own.

She went stiff with outrage, and I continued as though nothing had happened.

At the end of the room, Dean stood waiting for me. He looked dangerously attractive, more so than usual, if that were even possible.

When he took my hand, his grip tightened, just enough to warn me. “I know what you’re trying to do,” he whispered near my ear, lips curved pleasantly for the crowd. “And it won’t work.”

I smiled back at him, the warmest, most convincing smile I could muster. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

His fingers flexed once more before he turned us toward the guests.

And just like that, we were surrounded.

Introductions blurred together. Names, titles, fortunes.

“Your fiancée is exquisite.”

“You’re a lucky man, Dean.”

“I must say… what confidence.”

I smiled. Nodded. Replied when necessary.

Dean was pulled away moments later, voices calling his name, hands clapping his shoulder.

He left me there, still surrounded, but suddenly very aware of how little I belonged.

After a few more minutes of small talk about things I barely understood, I excused myself with a measured smile and drifted toward the edge of the room.

The moment I was alone, I let out a deep breath, trying to steady my overwhelmed self.

A waiter passed by with a silver tray. I took a flute of champagne and drained it in one go.

Only then did my shoulders ease.

That was when a voice spoke behind me.

“So,” she said icily, “this is what he chose.”

I whisked around, and came face to face with a young woman, an expensive-looking purse clenched in one hand, and a glass of red wine cradled loosely in the other.

She was inches taller than me, every curve clearly sculpted surgically, unmistakably visible in her short, gold-sparkling dress that clung to her like a second skin. Her beauty was wicked in a way that made my skin crawl.

Returning the flute to the waiter, I asked in confusion. “Who are you?”

She ignored my question.

“When he left me,” she said, slow and deliberate, “I thought he’d move on to…something better.” Her eyes roamed over me with condescension.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I demanded, folding my arms as impatience crept in.

“I’m his ex-lover,” she sneered, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“I can’t believe Dean is about to marry a waitress. Now I don’t know what sinister tricks you pulled to get him, but you’re definitely a gold digger.” She let out a mocking giggle.

I threw my head back and laughed wickedly, loud enough to echo.

If only she knew he was marrying me to dig my gold.

I fixed her with a cold stare. “You know,” I hissed, voice clipped. “It doesn’t take sinister tricks to see a man prefers someone natural… over this.” My hands swept up and down in a dismissive arc, each motion underlining exactly what I meant.

Her jaw tightened, anger flashing across her face. I let her simmer.

I walked towards her with an air of superiority, every step confident.

As I reached her side, I stopped briefly. “If I were you, I’d leave here immediately… Bad look, don’t you think? The ex intimidating the bride.” I whispered the last words directly into her ear.

Then I walked away, heels clicking sharply against the floor, leaving her standing there, deflated.

I decided to look for Dean, wondering where he could have gone for so long. Not that I cared, but being left alone in a hall full of strangers was unsettling.

A faint echo of his voice reached me, guiding me down a side corridor. I followed it carefully, not wanting to draw attention. The sound grew clearer near a door left slightly ajar.

Judging by the organized bookshelves and sleek desk inside, it looked like his office. Peeking in, I saw Dean talking with Aunt Mary.

I almost turned to leave. I didn’t want to eavesdrop. But then I heard my name, and curiosity anchored me to the spot. I stayed, listening, unable to look away.

“Did you see that dress?” Aunt Mary’s voice was sharp and displeased. “She looked like a w***e!”

“Don’t you ever call her that.” Dean snapped.

My breath caught.

I hadn’t expected that. Not from him. Not in front of her.

“She’s stubborn. Defiant,” Aunt Mary pressed. “Definitely not the right fit for this family.”

Then her tone softened, like she was trying another approach to get to him. “Look, Dean, it’s not too late. The wedding is tomorrow. We can still cancel it.”

She stepped closer to him, her voice dropping even softer. “If you don’t like Juliet anymore, I’ll find you another girl. An obedient—.”

Dean slammed his hand down on the desk.

The sharp ‘thwack’ made me jolt back.

“That’s enough,” his voice boomed, firm and final.

“Layla belongs to me,” he declared, “And no one tells me what to do with her.”

‘Belongs to me.’

The words rang heavily in my mind.

I stood there, staring at him through the narrow c***k of the door, something inside me recoiling.

The way he said it so easily. Without hesitation.

I had known the stakes. I had accepted the bargain. But being reduced to mere property, it scraped against things I’d buried long ago.

I needed some space, so I turned and walked away, trying to push the conversation behind me.

Only to run straight into a waiter.

Drinks sloshed over me, glasses shattering as they hit the floor.

Gasps erupted. A few stifled laughs, and phones immediately appeared, capturing the scene.

Heat flooded my cheeks as humiliation took hold. I literally prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

Before I could think of my next line of action, strong arms circled my waist, steadying me.

Dean.

My pulse leapt into overdrive.

“I’m so sorry about this.” He cupped my face with one hand, empathy shining in his eyes. “You still look so beautiful though.”

Then, the most shocking thing happened.

He kissed me.

My first kiss.

Fire and electricity shot through me all at once.

I hadn’t expected it, but I couldn’t resist.

The clapping started almost immediately, followed by soft “awws” that rippled through the room. The crowd, once focused on my earlier mishap, had shifted, charmed by the display.

“Let’s get you changed.” His arm slid across my back, guiding me upstairs.

Halfway up the stairs, he turned briefly to the now-quiet audience. “Please,” he announced, his voice carrying, “the party isn’t over yet. Eat, drink, have fun. We’ll be right back.”

With that, we resumed our ascent, the music swelling again as the party slipped back into full swing below.

Once we were out of view, I shrugged his arm off my shoulders and tugged his jacket free, thrusting it back at him.

“No one’s watching now. You can quit the act.”

He snatched it from my hand, his expression hardening. “You almost embarrassed me just now.” His eyes flicked over me sharply. “How could you be so careless?”

A bitter laugh tore through me. “What? are you going to punish me now?” I shot back. “Like the property I am?”

His brows lifted, confusion flashing across his face. “I don’t—”

“I heard you and your aunt talking about me.” I barked, cutting him off. “You think you own me don’t you?”

I stepped closer, rage burning hot under my skin. “I am not an item you can possess.”

He didn’t respond. He only stared at me, a blank look on his face.

And I definitely don’t need you helping me change.” I added coldly, then stormed towards my bedroom.

I had already crossed into the room, when his voice came from behind.

“Are you really trying to spare me the sight?”

I stopped.

When I looked back, a faint smile played at his mouth.

“I’ve seen far more than whatever you’re so desperate to hide.”

That was all it took. At the mention of those words, something in me finally snapped.

“I hate you, Dean Luther!”

My voice broke as I banged the door shut.