The Mafia Ghost And His Obsession

Chapter 3: Re-Introduction

10 YEARS LATER

TAMARA

“Tamara, wake up!!!”

“No! Go away!!” I muttered, my words muffled as I pulled the covers tighter over me, groaning at the bright light that suddenly crept into my room.

“You are too old for s**t like this, Tee. C’mon. Get up.” Maggie sighed, yanking the covers away from me again.

“Why!! Why do I have to wake up? I don’t even have work today!” I cried out, trying to pull the covers back.

Maggie held on tightly.

“Because you have to meet Noel’s family today!!”

What?

Oh my God.

With a loud shout, I sprang out of bed so fast I bumped heads with Maggie, both of us letting out a groan.

“Ah!”

“Shit.”

We hissed simultaneously, each clutching our foreheads.

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I completely forgot it was today. God. What am I going to do? I’m not even ready!” I panicked, rushing to my closet.

Maggie darted after me. “I already have your dress. All we need is to style your hair and you’re good to go.”

I turned toward her, relief flooding me, and a wide smile broke across my face. I rushed forward and hugged her so tight she stumbled back.

“What would I do without you, Mag?” I sighed wistfully, kissing her cheeks over and over before letting go.

“Okay, okay. Enough of that,” she muttered, leaning away from my plenteous kisses. “You need to start dressing up.”

I nodded quickly and dashed into the bathroom to shower. My thoughts stirred as I scrubbed my body. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten what today was. I’d been looking forward to this ever since Noel and I started dating.

He had proposed a few months ago and I said yes. It felt only fair after two years together. Noel was a good man, an accountant at a big firm here in Russia, comfortable, dependable. He worshipped the ground I walked on. He never cursed. Always polite, always prim and proper. He helped old ladies cross the road, left his spare change at the bar or supermarket.

I knew he would make a good husband, and an even better father. He might not have been my first choice, or even my fifth, but I wasn’t looking for choices anymore. I was looking for security.

After bathing, I walked back into my room to find a dress already spread across my bed, waiting. A red polka-dot dress, modest to the point of being almost prudish.

Maggie really was a sweetheart.

I sighed as I picked it up. The dress had a high neckline, sleeves that reached past my elbows, and a skirt that flowed all the way down to my calves without so much as a slit. The fabric was thick enough that not a single curve was revealed, save for the unavoidable outline of my hips and bust. Noel hated when I exposed my body. He said it didn’t speak well of me, that it was classless. I didn’t agree with his logic—nor did I like it—but I followed it anyway. I just needed to keep him happy.

Seeing as I was on the curvier side, the dress didn’t look entirely hideous on me.

Maggie came in afterwards to fix my hair and did light makeup on me, subtle enough, I hoped, that Noel wouldn’t notice.

Hours later, I was finally ready.

My phone pinged and I knew it was Noel calling me downstairs.

“Wish me luck,” I urged Maggie, nerves swimming in my belly.

“You don’t need luck, Tee. You’re the definition of luck itself.”

I didn’t believe that, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

I rushed downstairs to find Noel’s Hyundai parked neatly in front of my lawn.

“Hi,” I greeted as I slid into the passenger seat. I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned at the last second, so my lips landed there instead.

I chuckled softly.

“Hi, Sunflower. You look good,” he grinned.

I blushed at his compliment, heat creeping up my neck. “Thank you. You look good yourself,” I replied, eyeing his outfit.

He wore a mustard-yellow collared shirt tucked into ash-gray suit pants, with black sandals covering his feet. He wasn’t overly muscled, he hated going to the gym, but he still looked good.

Noel was handsome, not in the kind of way that turned heads, but handsome all the same.

He looked like the nerd he was, with his black-rimmed glasses and ruffled hair. But somehow, that only added to his appeal.

“Are you ready?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition.

I nodded. “I am.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“How many people will be there?” I asked, smoothing my dress, searching for something to do with my restless hands.

“Just my mother, grandma, and my mother’s sisters,” Noel said, not looking away from the road. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, my brother will be there too.”

“Brother?” I blinked. He’d never mentioned having a brother.

“Yeah,” Noel admitted, lips pressed together as if in thought. “I didn’t think he’d show, so I never mentioned it. I’m sorry, Sunflower. He never accepts invitations for family dinners, so I wondered why he said yes this time.” His eyes flicked to me, apologetic.

I shook my head. “It’s fine.” I had met his mother once and she was an absolute gem. If his brother was anything like Noel and Lucy, then I had nothing to worry about. I hoped so.

Sooner rather than later, we arrived at Noel’s family house. It stood on the outskirts of Russia, nestled in one of the richest neighborhoods. During the drive, Noel had explained that his brother had a strange affinity for showing off. He never came home, but silenced his mother with money and luxury.

For her sixtieth birthday, he had bought her this very house and made sure she moved in. Judging by Noel’s tone, I suspected he didn’t like his brother’s flaunting of wealth. Probably because Noel wasn’t the type to throw money around.

The house was breathtaking. A towering estate with gleaming white walls and tall, elegant windows. Ornate iron gates guarded the driveway, and a marble fountain spilled crystal water into a wide stone basin. The lawn was immaculately trimmed, lined with flowers in full bloom. Everything about it screamed rich, classy, and untouchable.

Noel didn’t ring the bell. He simply turned the knob and walked in. If the outside had blown me away, the inside toppled me completely.

Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, their light bouncing off marble floors polished to perfection. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries and art pieces that looked far too expensive for me to name. Plush rugs softened the steps, and the scent of roses and cedar filled the air. It was sophistication wrapped in wealth.

A maid directed us to the dining room, where a table already overflowed with so many dishes it made my mouth water.

Noel’s mother was the first to greet us. Lucy was a southern woman who had married one of Russia’s wealthiest men, though he had died before I could meet him. She was curvy like me, her black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her smile was warm, her light-brown eyes glowing with kindness. She reminded me so much of my own mother.

“Oh, you gorgeous girl. So nice to see you again.” Lucy rounded me in a hug, her touch warm.

“Nice to see you too, Ms. Lucy,” I replied with a smile.

“Oh, none of that. I told you to call me Lucy, Tamara darling.” She scolded lightly, patting my cheek.

I smiled and nodded.

She turned to her son and beamed. “Noel, my boy.”

“Mama,” he greeted, hugging her and kissing her cheek. Their easy affection warmed my heart. It made me wonder, if HE had shared such a bond with his own mother, would things have ended differently?

I pushed the thought away before it ruined my mood.

Noel’s grandmother descended the staircase next. She didn’t look a day over fifty, though she was far older. Stern, but with a hidden softness.

“What are you wearing, boy?” she snapped, pointing her cane at Noel. “That shirt could use a better color. C’mon now.”

Anna, my mother’s namesake, had a harsher accent than Lucy and Noel, one that always surfaced when she was upset, according to Noel.

But he didn’t take offense. He was used to it. Instead, he simply pulled me closer and introduced us. Anna called me a doll and patted my cheek like her daughter had.

Other family members, including Lucy’s sisters and some of their children, came down to greet us. My eyes kept scanning the group, searching for Noel’s mysterious brother. But he had said older brother, so surely it wasn’t any of these kids.

We were finally seated at the dining table, the food laid out like a feast. No one mentioned this elusive brother. For now, I decided to forget about it and eat. Everyone I had met so far had been an absolute sweetheart. It didn’t bother me.

Conversations flowed easily as we ate, laughter and chatter weaving around the table like warm threads. Most of it was about their week—stories of work, family, and little mishaps. Questions were tossed at me here and there, not mocking or prying, but curious, eager to know the woman Noel had brought home.

I told them I was a nurse at a teaching hospital, balancing my work with furthering my education. That I lived with my sister Maggie, who was a baker, and that my parents were downtown, very much alive and still preaching, my father a pastor and my mother a devoted pastor’s wife.

They listened with bright eyes and genuine smiles, nodding at every word. For once, I didn’t feel judged or out of place. I felt… accepted.

But then….

A sharp crash shattered the air, silencing the room in an instant. Forks froze midair. Noel’s mother, Lucy, shot up from her chair with startling urgency and rushed toward the window.

A gasp tore from her lips.

“Mama? What is going on?” Noel demanded, following after her.

He reached the window, peered out, and I nearly stumbled at the sight of his face. His usually composed, mild-mannered features twisted into something raw, red with anger, eyes blown wide like saucers.

“This… this…” he stammered, his voice shaking with outrage.

Just cuss, I wanted to snap, because that pent-up anger was begging to spill, but my curiosity drowned out everything. I leapt to my feet and hurried to the window with the rest of the family.

The sight that met me made my breath hitch.

A Ferrari; sleek, gleaming and predatory—had plowed into the back of Noel’s Hyundai like it was paper. The poor car crumpled beneath the impact. It was like watching an elephant crush a mouse, effortless and almost cruel.

The driver’s door opened, and out he came.

The perpetrator didn’t just walk, he strolled out with a kind of dangerous grace that made the air feel heavy. The moment he straightened to his full height, a gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

He was tall. So tall it was unfair to us with average height. His body was a fortress of muscle barely contained by a tailored suit that looked one breath away from splitting at the seams. His back was impossibly broad; broad enough that I swore my entire closet could fit between his shoulders with room to spare.

He hadn’t even turned yet, and still my pulse thundered.

Lucy must have sensed something because she clapped her hands sharply. “Alright, everyone. Party’s over. Back to the table.”

I groaned inwardly, my head still tilted toward the window, eyes straining to see his face. But Lucy’s gentle push nudged me away.

“Mama,” Noel bemoaned, frustration dripping from every word, “why aren’t you saying anything? He just smashed my car!”

“I’m sure it was an accident, son,” she replied smoothly, her tone so casual it jarred. “Come. Sit. He’ll explain himself soon enough.”

But Noel didn’t sit. His entire body was coiled tight, vibrating with a kind of anger I had never seen in him before. He wasn’t just upset, he was seething, his jaw locked, nostrils flaring. It shocked me how much fury this stranger’s presence had pulled out of him.

My eyes darted around the table, expecting others to share Noel’s outrage. Instead, everyone wore the same expressionless calm, as though this were normal. As though this sort of thing happened all the time.

And then the front door swung open.

The intruder stepped inside, his presence swallowing the room whole. Instantly, the younger children squealed with joy and rushed him. His laugh rolled out, deep and velvety, vibrating through the walls.

The sound alone undid me.

His voice was powerful, gravel and silk at once, so low it seemed to seep beneath my skin and travel south. Heat flushed through me, pooling between my thighs in a rush so sudden I had to grip the edge of the table for balance. My cheeks burned crimson.

I couldn’t believe I was aroused by the voice of a man I hadn’t even seen yet.

He scooped up two children with each arm like they weighed nothing, and lifted a third onto his shoulders. Effortless strength. Effortless command.

My eyes betrayed me, devouring every inch as they traveled upward. From his long, muscled legs encased in the dark perfection of his tailored suit pants, up to the solid expanse of his chest straining against his shirt. My gaze lingered on the strong column of his throat, where a tattoo curled out from beneath his collar, dark ink teasing me with secrets.

And then, finally, my eyes reached his face.

The world stopped.

The spoon in my hand clattered against my plate, my chair screeching backward and crashing to the floor as I shot to my feet, trembling.

My heart plummeted, my stomach twisting violently into knots, my eyes wide as if they could somehow deny what they saw.

Because standing there, with a look of sharp confusion and heavy intensity, was not just a stranger.

It was him.

ISAIAH CANNIGHAN.

My first love. My ghost.

The devil I thought I’d buried a decade ago.