The Mafia's Bride

Chapter 5

Yasmine POV

After dinner, Luca’s driver dropped me off in front of my building. He’d stepped out of the car just to open the door for me, his hand lingering slightly as I got out. He didn’t kiss me goodnight or even try to touch me, but his eyes did more damage than a hundred stolen kisses could. They lingered on me, dark and unreadable, making me shiver before he finally returned to the car.

Inside, the apartment was silent. Matt and Mark were gone, the faint smell of pizza still hanging in the air from earlier. I peeled off my dress and heels, craving comfort, and slipped into my favorite silky camisole and pajama shorts. The fabric cooled against my skin as I sank into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Tomorrow my paintings would be moved to the gallery. Diane, my assigned curator, wanted to finalize the exhibition’s themes and layout before next week’s opening. It should’ve been the only thing on my mind, but instead, I kept thinking about Luca.

He had been a perfect gentleman tonight, his manners precise, his charm carefully measured. And yet, beneath that polished exterior, there was something else. The way he looked at me across the table, like I was already his. It wasn’t a look of seduction—it was possession. And that terrified me more than it thrilled me.

Just two more nights, I reminded myself. Then this will be over. He was too intense, too dangerous, too consuming for me to risk getting pulled in. Still… some reckless part of me whispered that a harmless fling wouldn’t destroy me. Right?

********

The next morning, I dressed simply, a cropped white top, loose boyfriend jeans, and tied my hair into a messy bun before heading to the studio. Diane was already there with a small team of movers. She greeted me with her usual sharp efficiency, clipboard in hand, as the men carefully packed up my canvases.

The studio was chaotic, but Diane thrived in chaos. She directed everyone with brisk commands, all the while explaining her plans for the exhibition. I mostly followed her lead, nodding and offering small input where I could. Honestly, I was grateful. I trusted her judgment more than I trusted my own in moments like this.

“Here,” she said at last, handing me a printed list. “The confirmed VIP guests.”

I scanned the names, only half-interested, until my eyes caught on one.

Luca Rossi.

My stomach tightened. Of course he would be there. The man seemed to have his hands in everything, and now even my art felt like it was under his shadow. I quickly folded the list and gave it back before Diane could notice my expression.

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to lose myself in the work. Diane and I varnished the last of the dried canvases, framed them, and carefully stored each piece beneath protective white sheets. By two o’clock, we were finally done. My muscles ached, but the sight of my paintings ready for exhibition filled me with pride.

Still, Luca’s name echoed in my mind.

********

Back at my apartment, I grabbed groceries, showered, and made myself a quick sandwich with orange juice before collapsing on the couch with Netflix playing softly in the background. Just as I started to relax, my phone rang.

“Yasmine Fernandez speaking,” I answered in my business voice.

“It’s Luca.”

My pulse spiked. “How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways,” he replied smoothly.

Of course he did.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I want to pick you up at six-thirty. Can you be ready?”

Suspicion curled in my stomach. “For what?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll know when we get there.”

“Luca,” I said firmly. “We’re not close enough for surprises. I told you already I’m only giving you three dates. After tomorrow, this ends. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

He chuckled softly, like my boundaries amused him. “Ma dai… come on. I know it’s soon, but why don’t you give us a chance?”

“Luca, we’re practically strangers. I’m not looking for a relationship. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe it’s better if we stop this before things get messier.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy and unnerving. For a moment, I thought he had hung up. Then his voice came low and smooth, carrying a weight that sent a chill through me.

“Whatever you want, mia cara. I’ll see you soon.”

The line went dead.

And just like that, the quiet of my apartment didn’t feel safe anymore.