His Donna

Episode3

Nora’s POV;

There is nothing more peaceful than enjoying my own company… just me, curled on my bed, lost in the pages of the novels Luca had brought for me. Books had become my safe escape, my only way of detaching from reality and embracing a world where I had control, where I could dream. But peace, I was learning, never lasted long in this house.

It felt like I had been in this room forever but the reality was that it had only been hours yet not even a glimpse of him, the only information that was delivered from Luca was that I had to prepare for the swearing-in program, and Leo

No further details I didn’t understand yet I didn’t press further

*****************

Within what felt like the blink of an eye, the bedroom door opened and the quiet was gone. The stylist arrived first, arms full of shimmering gowns that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than on a human body. Jewelry cases clicked open one after another, diamonds catching the light like tiny knives. The makeup artist busied herself at the vanity, already setting out palettes and brushes.

I let them fuss around me until I finally pointed at a simple black gown. It wasn’t the most elaborate, but it made me feel less like a doll being displayed. The stylist didn’t argue; instead, she draped a necklace across my collarbone and nodded in satisfaction. The makeup artist worked quietly, her hands steady as if she had done this routine a thousand times before.

All the while, Luca’s voice kept cutting through the air.

“Hurry up. She has to be ready before the Don.”

The cook, Martha, peeked in at one point. “Mrs. Mancini,” she said softly, “you look beautiful.”

The stylist chimed in, “The Don made a splendid choice in his Donna.”

The women chuckled together. I only rolled my eyes. Choice wasn’t the word.

By the time everything was done, I could barely recognize the reflection staring back at me. I looked elegant, polished, untouchable. But inside, my chest was tight.

“Nora, it’s time to go. The ride is here,” Luca called.

He led me out of the room, through the corridors, and into the garage. Leonardo was already waiting beside the car, impossibly composed, as though this entire night was just another calculated move in his chess game.

For a man who had killed without blinking, he surprised me when he opened the door for me like a gentleman.

The ride to the event was quiet, the air thick with everything unsaid. I stared out the window, memorizing streetlights and shadows, while every so often, I felt his gaze flicker toward me. Our eyes met once, then twice. By the third time, I couldn’t decide if the silence between us was suffocating or strangely magnetic.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, Leonardo’s voice broke through.

“Everyone is already waiting for us. Let’s go in.”

He stepped out, came around, and this time didn’t just open the door, he held out his hand. I hesitated but placed mine in his. His grip was firm, steady, a tether as we walked into the hall together.

The venue was grander than I expected, with towering chandeliers casting a golden light, polished floors gleaming, and tables dressed in velvet and crystal. And more people than I could count, each table arranged by family name, a visible division of power and bloodlines.

As we walked further in, I felt the weight of eyes on me. Whispers slipped between tables like snakes.

“Can’t believe he finally settled down.”

“He only wants an heir.”

“She won’t last. He’ll break her before the year is out.”

“He would marry her to become a don”

My hand tightened around Leonardo’s without thinking. It was either grip him or collapse under the pressure. His only reaction was the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth, as if he enjoyed my dependence.

When we reached the podium, the noise cut off as though the room had swallowed itself. Leonardo picked up the microphone with practiced ease.

“Good evening,” his voice carried, smooth but commanding. “Thank you all for honoring my invitation tonight. It is no news that every king needs his queen when he ascends the throne. And I, Leonardo Mancini, have chosen Nora Mancini.”

He raised his glass in a toast. “To the new Don and Donna of our family.”

The applause was scattered, polite, but heavy with tension. He placed the glass down, retook my hand, and guided me off the stage.

Music filled the hall once more, breaking the silence. Strippers climbed polished poles in the corners, drawing eager eyes, while waiters weaved between tables with trays of expensive wine. Leonardo led me around the room, making introductions, shaking hands, exchanging smiles that never reached his eyes. By the time we sat at our table, my feet ached and my nerves were frayed.

“Is my bride so obsessed with me she won’t even let go of my hand?” he teased suddenly.

I glanced down. Our hands were still locked together. Heat rushed to my face as I quickly pulled mine free.

His smirk widened. He slipped his arm around me instead, pulling me close.

“You know people are watching. Behave.”

“Can you at least keep your hands off me?” I muttered under my breath.

“No.”

Great.

Waiters began to move again, this time carrying covered platters. The clinking of lids being lifted filled the hall like a soft drumroll. I didn’t think much of it until our platter opened.

The sight made my blood run cold.

It wasn’t food. It was a human head. The skin pale, the eyes still open, the lips frozen mid-scream. Blood dripped onto the silver tray, pooling dark and sticky.

My stomach lurched. I turned to Leonardo, searching his face for an explanation. For the first time since I had met him, he looked rattled. His gray eyes widened, his lips parted, but nothing came out.

Around us, gasps and cries rippled through the hall. Some families found severed hands, others, hearts, or limbs. The air thickened with panic and rage.

“All doors locked!” Leonardo’s voice thundered at last, echoing against the walls. “Nobody leaves.”

The hall froze. Even the music stopped.

“Luca,” he snapped, never looking away from the bloody mess on our table, “get Nora out of here.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Tiago, gather every waiter and chef. Now.”

“Yes, boss.”

Luca touched my arm, urging me up. My legs felt stiff, but I forced myself to stand, eyes darting back to the horror on the plate.

“Nora, let’s go,” Luca whispered urgently. “The ride is outside.”

And just like that, the hall behind us descended into chaos.