Mafia's Mute Lover Is A Liar

Marriage

I opened the door and slipped into the hallway.

The penthouse was huge. Corridors stretched in every direction. Gray walls. Black floors. Glass windows that looked out onto the city. I had no idea where I was going. I just needed to move. To think. To stop shaking.

My nose was still bleeding. I wiped it on my sleeve.

I turned a corner and stopped.

Voices. Not voices I could hear. Lips I could read. Through a glass wall, I saw them. The five families. The men from the negotiation table. They were standing in a circle, speaking in low tones. Alessio was not with them.

The Bianchi don was talking. His lips moved fast. Angry.

"The interpreter is a problem. She is slow. She makes errors. She almost got us killed today."

The Conti don nodded. "She is not what we were promised. Lydia Mercer was supposed to be the best. This woman is... broken."

Daniil Volkov smiled. That same warm, deceptive smile. "Perhaps she is having an off day. Perhaps we should give her another chance."

"Another chance to start a war?" The Bianchi don spat. "No. Alessio needs to find someone else. Or we find our own interpreter."

"And delay the talks?" Daniil said. "The longer we wait, the more money we lose. Alessio knows this. He will not delay."

"Then he needs to control his interpreter. Or get rid of her."

I stood frozen behind the corner. My heart pounded. My hands shook.

They were talking about me. They wanted me gone. They thought I was broken.

They were right.

I pressed myself against the wall. I tried to make myself small. Invisible. The way I had been doing my entire life.

A hand touched my shoulder.

I spun around.

Alessio.

His gray eyes were cold. He had come up behind me without making a sound. How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen?

"Eavesdropping is not a good look, Miss Mercer."

I shook my head. I pulled out my tablet. I typed: I was not eavesdropping. I was looking for my room. I got lost.

He read the screen. His expression did not change.

"Come with me."

He did not wait for me to follow. He walked. I had no choice but to walk behind him.

He took me back to his study.

I followed him inside. The door closed behind us. The lock clicked. My stomach turned.

Then another man walked in.

Older. Fifties. Stocky. Balding. But his eyes were sharp. He looked at me like he was sizing me up. Like he was deciding whether I was a threat or a liability.

"Enzo," Alessio said. "Report."

Enzo looked at me. Then at Alessio. "The families are discussing the interpreter. They want her gone."

My blood ran cold.

"They are saying she is a liability. That she will get someone killed. That you need to find someone else before the next meeting."

Alessio's jaw tightened. "And what did you tell them?"

"I told them nothing. I came to you first."

"Good."

Enzo stepped closer. "But there is more. The Volkovs are planting seeds. They are suggesting that if something were to happen to the interpreter—if she were to have an accident—you would naturally need to find a new one. And they have someone in mind. Someone they could place by your side."

Alessio's gray eyes flickered. Something dangerous moved beneath the surface.

"They want to kill her."

"Or worse," Enzo said. "They want to use her. To control you. To feed you information. To destroy you from the inside."

Alessio was silent for a long moment.

Then he turned to me.

He walked toward me. Slow. Like a predator approaching wounded prey.

His hand reached for my hair. His fingers found the roots at the back of my head. He pulled slightly. Just enough to tilt my face up toward his.

"You signed a contract," he said. "You are bound to me until the peace talks conclude. You are a worthless interpreter, but at least I know the Volkovs won't use you. So you have to stick around till the end. Or your mother and brother are going to be in danger."

Cold ran down my spine.

My mother. My brother. He knew about them. He would hurt them. He would kill them. I saw it in his gray eyes. He was not bluffing.

He let go of my hair.

But his hand did not fall away.

His fingers brushed down the side of my neck. Slow. Deliberate. The touch was soft. Too soft. It felt intentional. Like he wanted to feel my skin. Like he wanted to see if I would shiver.

But it could not be true. He was a monster. Monsters did not crave touch. They craved control.

His eyes held mine for a moment longer.

He was standing in front of me now. So close I could feel the heat of his body. So close I could see the scar on his face. So close I could count the flecks of silver in his gray eyes.

He saw the horror on my face. The reluctance. The fear.

And he spoke.

"There is another way."

I looked at him. My heart was pounding. My throat was burning. My nose was bleeding. I did not care.

"I could kill you."

My hope died.

"If you die, the contract is void. The Volkovs have no claim. I find another interpreter. I lose nothing. And I look strong. Decisive. Not weak."

He pulled a gun from his jacket.

But his other hand came up to my face. His palm was warm against my cheek. Too warm. It felt like he was going to kiss me. It felt like he was going to cup my face and pull me closer.

But it was not true. It could not be true.

The gun slowly reached my neck. The cold metal touched my skin.

He clicked it.

My breath stopped.

"Or," he said, his face inches from mine, his eyes glued to my face, "you marry me. You live. The Volkovs cannot touch you because you are mine. The talks continue. Everyone wins."

I wanted to cry.

But I did not.

I would not give him the satisfaction.

"Choose."

I looked at Enzo. He stood by the door, his face unreadable.

I swallowed. My throat burned. I could taste blood.

And I nodded.

Alessio nodded.

He pulled the gun back. But his hand remained on my face. His palm stayed against my cheek. His thumb brushed under my eye. Wiping away a tear I did not know had fallen.

He watched me.

I did not know why my heart was racing so badly. It must have been the fear. It had to be the fear. There was no other explanation.

He stepped away.

Released me from his torment.

The moment he was gone, the burning feeling on my cheek faded. The cold rushed in to replace it. I missed his warmth. I hated myself for missing it.

I grabbed a pen from the desk. I found a piece of paper. I wrote.

"You are a monster."

My handwriting was shaky. The letters were barely legible.

He looked down at the paper.

Then his lip lifted. Ever so slightly.

It was not a smile. It was something else. Something worse. Something that made my stomach turn and my heart race at the same time.

"Save the compliments for our wedding night."

He walked out.

Enzo paused at the door. He looked at me. His eyes were not cold like Alessio's. They were almost... kind.

"You should eat something," he said. "You look like you are about to collapse."

Then he left.

I was alone.

I slid down the wall. I sat on the floor. I put my head in my hands.

My whole body was shaking. My nose was bleeding. My throat was burning. My neck still tingled where his fingers had brushed. My cheek still burned where his palm had rested.

I touched my face.

Fear, I told myself. It was fear. Nothing else.

But I did not believe it.

I picked up my tablet. The screen was cracked. But it still worked.

I typed: Day 3. I am getting married tomorrow. To a man who pointed a gun at my head and gave me a choice between death and a cage. I chose the cage. I do not know if that makes me brave or stupid.

He touched my face. He brushed my neck. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me. And my heart raced. Not from fear. From something else. Something I do not want to name.

I am broken. I am scared. I am alone.

And I am marrying a monster.

But the worst part is... I am not sure I want to run.

I deleted the last sentence. I wrote: Michael's school fees are due. My mother's eviction notice came yesterday. I have no money. I have no family. I have no one. I have nothing to lose except my life. And I am not sure I want to keep that anyway.

I stood up. I walked to my room.

I did not look back.