Owned by Mr Mafia

Chapter Four: Shopping with the Devil

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the mansion, glinting off the polished marble floors. Isabella stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the dress Luca had chosen for her. It was elegant, expensive, and painfully beautiful just like everything in this house. Her hands trembled slightly as she touched the fabric, feeling small and out of place in this world of wealth and control.

A knock came at the door, sharp and precise.

“Come in,” Isabella whispered, her voice barely steady.

Luca entered, dressed in a tailored suit that made him look every bit the dangerous man she had now married. His dark eyes swept over her, and Isabella’s stomach twisted with fear and nerves.

“You’re ready?” he asked, his voice smooth but commanding.

She nodded softly. “Y-Yes… Mr. Moretti.”

He didn’t smile, but he reached out and took her hand, guiding her through the mansion’s endless hallways to his sleek black car waiting outside. The driver opened the door for them, and Isabella slid into the leather seat, hands clutching the edge as her heart raced.

The city streets blurred past as Luca drove them toward the most exclusive shopping district in town. Everywhere she looked, luxury screamed at her from the high-end boutiques to the designer cars parked along the sidewalks.

“So… what exactly are we shopping for?” she asked, her voice timid.

“Whatever I say,” Luca replied simply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll wear what I pick. I like things… perfect.”

When they arrived at Bellini Couture, the boutique door chimed softly as Luca pushed it open, Isabella trailing slightly behind him, her hands folded nervously in front of her.

“Good afternoon, sir, madam,” a young sales assistant greeted, bowing her head. “Welcome to Bellini Couture. Please let us know if you need anything.”

Luca’s eyes swept over the racks without a word, his expression unreadable. “Just show her what fits,” he said, his tone sharp. The staff flinched slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the assistant said, stepping aside.

Isabella followed silently, trying to focus on the dresses. Her fingers fidgeted with the fabric as she walked, glancing nervously at Luca, feeling the weight of his gaze. Every luxurious detail of the boutique felt overwhelming.

As Luca examined a suit, she quietly borrowed the boutique phone and dialed Diego’s number, her hands trembling.

The line clicked. “Isabella?”

She swallowed, tears threatening to spill. “D-Diego… it’s me…”

For a moment, silence. Then his voice, sharp with pain: “Isabella… you got married? Without… without caring how I feel?”

“I-I… it’s not—” she stammered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for—”

Tears fell freely. Words caught in her throat.

“Have you seen the news?” Diego continued, voice older, broken. “Your wedding… it’s everywhere! How could you?”

Her mind went blank. She hadn’t seen reporters. Then it hit her,her stepmom and stepsister had orchestrated this. She tried to explain, but Diego hung up before she could.

Kneeling in the boutique dressing room, Isabella buried her face in her hands, trembling. She cried softly, feeling small and helpless. By the time she finally emerged, her face was streaked with tears, smudged and raw. She tried to hide it, but her hands shook as she smoothed the dress nervously.

“I… hope… you like this one, Mr. Moretti,” she whispered, voice quivering, almost as if speaking to herself.

Luca looked up from his phone, eyes narrowing. “I would’ve loved it… if your face had been bright enough. What’s wrong with you?”

“I… nothing,” she whispered again, avoiding his gaze, her lips pressed tightly together.

The assistant cleared her throat nervously. “Madam… you look beautiful, if I may say so.”

Isabella gave a small, uncertain smile, barely audible. “T-Thank you…”

Luca’s gaze sharpened, cold and assessing. He stepped closer. “You’re trembling. Something’s wrong. Don’t hide it from me.”

Isabella’s heart pounded. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her dress. “I-I… I’m fine…” she whispered, but her voice cracked.

Luca’s expression darkened slightly. “Lies suit you less than honesty,” he said, voice low and dangerous. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I can feel when you’re hiding something.”

She swallowed hard, feeling both fear and an unnameable tension under his gaze. Her body trembled, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I can’t… explain…”

He sighed, a mixture of irritation and curiosity in his dark eyes. “Fine. But we’re leaving soon. Remember this lying to me will cost you.”

She nodded silently, shrinking a little as the assistant brought another gown. The boutique’s glittering lights, the gowns, the whispers all of it felt overwhelming, distant. Her world had shrunk to Luca’s cold presence and the storm of guilt, fear, and heartbreak inside her.

Outside, the afternoon sun glinted off the city streets, but Isabella barely noticed. Her hands trembled as she followed Luca to the car, feeling small and helpless.