Sold to the Mafia Boss

CHAPTER THREE

“How come no one told me?!”

Georgina only scoffed, her face twisted with disbelief. “Isn’t that your job to know? You’re his daughter, after all.”

The words stung more than Adrienne expected. She had been away for four years, yes, but her father had always called, always visited. How could something this big have slipped past her? Her mind raced, trying to remember the last time they had spoken properly. Had he sounded tired? Had she been too wrapped up in her own life to notice?

She opened her mouth to argue, but the familiar click of sandals echoed down the hallway. Helene appeared, wearing a bright, overly dramatic dress that looked ridiculous in the stripped-down house. She stopped a few feet away and gave Adrienne a quick, appraising look before holding out a comb.

“I’m glad you’re finally here,” she said, her tone clipped. “Fix that hair first, then follow me.”

Adrienne took the comb with numb fingers and dragged it through her tangled strands as she followed her stepmother through the quiet, hollow hallways. Each empty room they passed made her chest tighten. Bare walls, missing furniture, faded patches where paintings used to hang. The reality kept sinking in deeper with every step.

They really were bankrupt. And her father was dying.

The thought made her stomach churn. How long had he been sick? Why hadn’t anyone called her? She had spoken to him just a few weeks ago and he had sounded fine. Or had he? Maybe she simply hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Helene stopped abruptly in front of the primary drawing room. Adrienne nearly walked into her back.

“Before I forget,” Helene said over her shoulder, voice low and firm. “Do not overreact in there. And do not embarrass us in front of Mr. Morelli.”

“Mr. Morelli? Who is that? What’s going—”

Helene pushed the door open without letting her finish.

The room still held some of its old furniture, one of the few spaces that didn’t feel completely abandoned. Two men waited inside. One had his back to the door while the other arranged papers in a leather briefcase. As they entered, both men stood.

The lawyer stepped forward first, offering a polite smile. “I’m Atty. Ludovisi, the Morelli family attorney,” he said in a thick Italian accent, his gold tooth catching the light as he extended his hand.

Adrienne shook it cautiously, her eyes flicking to the documents spread across the table. Before she could get a good look, the lawyer smoothly slid them aside and gave her a smile that felt a little too practiced.

“And this is Mr. Morelli,” Helene announced, gesturing toward the second man.

Adrienne turned, still trying to make sense of the whole situation. Her eyes landed first on a tall figure in a tailored dark suit. Broad shoulders, expensive watch glinting at his wrist. She blinked, her brain sluggishly trying to place him. Something about the way he stood felt familiar, but her mind was too scrambled from the shock of the empty house and her father’s illness to connect the dots right away.

Then he turned fully toward her.

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

It was him.

The same sharp jawline. The same dark, intense eyes that had stared at her on that balcony while the London lights glittered below. The same mouth that had kissed her slow and tender after f*****g her senseless against the railing and then again in his bed. Her supposed one night stand.

Her stomach plummeted like she had missed a step on a staircase. A cold wave of panic crashed over her, followed immediately by burning heat flooding her face. What the hell was he doing in her house? How was this even possible? She had spent the entire flight convincing herself that last night was a one-time mistake that would disappear the moment she landed in New York.

And now here he was — standing in her family’s drawing room like he belonged there.

Her mouth fell open slightly before she could stop it. For one terrifying second, she was sure everyone in the room could hear her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

“Lorenzo Morelli,” he said smoothly, as if they had never met before in their lives. He extended his hand toward her, the corner of his mouth lifting into that same knowing smirk that had undone her so easily the night before. “Nice to meet you.”

Adrienne couldn’t move at first. Her legs felt locked in place. When she finally managed to take his hand, his grip was warm and steady — the same hand that had gripped her hips and threaded through her hair only hours ago. She pulled away quickly, as if his touch had burned her.

Before she could say anything, Darlene bustled in with a pitcher of cold lemonade and crystal glasses. Adrienne practically lunged for the table, pouring herself a glass with shaking hands and gulping it down like she was dying of thirst. She drained a second one just as fast, the cold liquid doing nothing to calm the storm raging inside her.

“Miss Adrienne!” Darlene exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

Adrienne wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, forcing a weak, shaky smile. “It’s good to see you, Darlene. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Helene cleared her throat sharply, the sound cutting through the room like a whip. “We have guests, Adrienne. It’s rude to keep them waiting. They’ve been here for over an hour already.”

Adrienne turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach. “They’re waiting for me? Why?”

Helene fixed her with a cold, stern stare. “Sit.”

She sank into the nearest chair on autopilot, her legs no longer steady. She kept her eyes glued to the table, the floor, the pattern on the rug — anywhere except Lorenzo. Every time her gaze even threatened to drift toward him, vivid flashes hit her hard: his body pressed against hers, the cool night air on the balcony, the low groan in her ear. Her cheeks burned. She swallowed hard and forced herself to stare at Helene instead, clinging to the familiar irritation like a lifeline.

Helene waited until Darlene had set out the lemonade and small plates of dessert, then gave the housekeeper a dismissive nod. Once they were alone again, Helene picked up her glass, took a delicate sip, and turned to Lorenzo with a bright, overly sweet smile that made Adrienne’s skin crawl.

“Mr. Morelli, I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for this family,” she gushed, her voice dripping with false warmth. “Your generosity has been nothing short of extraordinary. Truly, we are so fortunate to have someone like you stepping in to save what’s left of our fortune.”

She set her glass down carefully and continued without pause, her tone shifting to something blunt and businesslike.

“And that’s why we’ve arranged for you to marry Adrienne. It settles the debt perfectly.”

The words hit Adrienne like a physical blow. For a second, the entire room seemed to tilt. She stared at her stepmother, mouth slightly open, her brain struggling to process what she had just heard. Marry? Debt? Her?

Her pulse roared in her ears. She shot up from her chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor. “You’re marrying me off? Just like that?” Her voice came out higher than she intended, shaky with disbelief and rising panic. “You can’t be serious.”

Lorenzo leaned back slightly in his seat, his expression calm but watchful. He glanced at Helene, then back at Adrienne.

“She didn’t know?” he asked, his tone mild but carrying a clear note of surprise.

Helene let out a light, nervous chuckle and waved her hand dismissively. “Of course she does. But she’s forever a klutz, you see? Very forgetful.” She turned and flashed Adrienne a sharp, icy warning look that promised consequences if she kept making a scene.

Adrienne’s hands trembled at her sides. She could barely breathe through the storm of emotions crashing over her — shock, humiliation, and a deep, sickening sense of betrayal. The memories from London kept flashing unwanted through her mind: his hands on her body, the way he had looked at her on the balcony, the tender kiss before carrying her to bed. And now this. He had known the whole time.

“Does my father know about this?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

“Of course, dear,” Helene replied smoothly, her smile thin and cold. “In fact, it was his decision. He’s the one who wanted this to happen. Now, sit down.”

Adrienne remained standing, frozen in place, her heart hammering so hard she felt dizzy. Her father — the man who had always protected her, who had visited her in London and never once mentioned any of this — had agreed to trade her away to settle a debt? The thought made her stomach churn.

That can’t be true.

She looked at Lorenzo again. He was watching her with that same steady, unreadable gaze, the faint smirk still lingering at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t look shocked. He didn’t look sorry. He simply sat there like he had expected this reaction all along.

The room felt too small, the air too thick. Adrienne’s legs felt unsteady beneath her as the full weight of her new reality pressed down, crushing and inescapable.

“I need to see my father,” she said finally, her voice coming out smaller and shakier than she wanted.

Helene gave her an annoyed look, her perfectly shaped brows drawing together. “You’ll see him when it’s time. For now, I need you to sit down so we can discuss this marriage further.”

“Discuss?” Adrienne let out a sharp, bitter scoff. “What is there to discuss? You’ve already decided everything for me, haven’t you?”

Helene’s expression stayed calm, but her eyes flashed with warning. “Didn’t I tell you not to cause a scene?”

Adrienne glared back at her, anger and disbelief twisting together in her chest until it felt like she might explode. “I’m seeing him whether you like it or not.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the drawing room, slamming the heavy door behind her so hard that the walls seemed to rattle. The sound echoed through the nearly empty hallway like a gunshot. Her heart was still pounding as she hurried down the corridor, barely seeing where she was going. The bare walls and chipped floors blurred past her while her mind spun with everything that had just happened.

Lorenzo. The marriage. Her father’s decision.

None of it made sense. She needed answers, and she needed them now.