The mafia don’s obsession

Chapter 4: self confrontation

Elodie’s pov

“Miss?” A guard prompted, frowning.

I forced myself to start walking, but my mind was spiraling. How could Matteo even think about a marriage contract with me when his actual wife was out there?

Was this some kind of arrangement they had? Did she know? Would she kill me the second she returned?

The questions spun through my mind like a storm as I hurried back through the dimly lit corridors, the thick folder of documents clutched tightly against my chest.

My palms were sweaty, leaving damp prints on the expensive paper. I half-expected armed men to appear at every corner and drag me away, or for Camila herself to materialize like some vengeful ghost.

I slipped into my small suite attached to the nursery, locking the door behind me with a soft click. Amy was still fast asleep in the next room, her nightlight casting soft stars across the ceiling.

I leaned against the door for a moment, trying to steady my breathing, then moved to the small desk in the corner and dropped the folder like it burned my hands.

The documents spilled out—legal jargon, financial clauses, non-disclosure agreements, and that damn marriage contract with Matteo’s bold signature already at the bottom.

I sank into the chair, staring at the pages until the words blurred.

The questions wouldn’t stop. Matteo had spoken so calmly about an “understanding” between him and Camila, as if their marriage was nothing more than a business deal.

But I had heard the staff talk about her. Camila Flynn was not a woman who shared. She was sharp, elegant, and reportedly ruthless when it came to protecting what belonged to her.

And I had just been claimed by her husband—first with his body while he bled out on a medical table, and now with a contract that would bind me to him legally.

My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages again. Financial security for Amy and me. Protection from any threats.

A two-year term. Mutual fidelity. The language was cold and precise, but the implication was clear: once I signed, I would no longer be just the nanny. I would be his.

I closed the folder and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. The memory of that night surged back unbidden—the weight of his body, the desperate strength in his grip, the way he had taken me without hesitation even as blood soaked the sheets.

My body still remembered every second. The unwanted heat. The fear. The confusing spark of something I refused to name.

A soft knock at the outer door made me jump.

I quickly shoved the documents into the desk drawer and opened the door a c***k. One of the younger maids stood there, looking nervous.

“The Don asked me to bring you this,” she whispered, holding out a small velvet box. “He said it’s not a demand. Just… something to think about.”

I took it without a word and closed the door. Inside was a simple but breathtaking diamond ring, the center stone a deep blood-red ruby.

A note in Matteo’s strong handwriting lay beneath it:

Three days. Wear it or burn it. The choice is yours—for now.

I snapped the box shut, heart pounding. Three days until Camila returned. Three days to decide whether I would sign my life away to a man who already believed I belonged to him.

I sat back down at the desk, staring at the closed drawer that held the contract. Outside, the estate was quiet, but the silence felt heavy with everything unsaid.

I didn’t know if I was more afraid of Camila… or of the part of me that already wondered what it would feel like to say yes.

I sat there for a long time after the maid left, the velvet box still in my hands. Against my better judgment, my mind drifted to Matteo.

There were moments when he was almost… sweet. The way his voice softened when he spoke to Amy. The rare, quiet smile that sometimes touched his mouth when he watched her from a distance.

The careful way he had said “thank you” after finding us playing together, as if those two words cost him something.

In those brief flashes, he didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a man who carried too much and still tried, in his own harsh way, to protect what little softness remained in his world.

But I couldn’t shove aside the truth of what he was.

Matteo Flynn was a ruthless mafia leader. A man who ordered deaths without blinking. A man who had taken me while bleeding and delirious, then calmly offered me a contract as if my body and future were already his to claim.

Sweetness and brutality lived side by side in him, and I was no longer sure which one frightened me more. Mateo was too good and bad at the same time to be true.

Marriage had never been something I dreamed of. My parents’ marriage had been hell—my father constantly beating my mother until the walls themselves seemed to flinch at the sound of his voice.

I had grown up promising myself I would never end up trapped like that. I would never sign my name to a man who could destroy me.

And yet here I was, staring at a contract that would do exactly that.

There was another reason the idea of binding myself to anyone terrified me. Something I had done years ago—something ugly and final that still lived in the quiet corners of my memory.

If Matteo ever found out, he wouldn’t just send me away. He would look at me the way he looked at his enemies. Maybe in a way, I was even worse than him.

I closed my eyes and whispered the truth into the empty room.

“I never imagined myself marrying a man like him.”

The words tasted bitter. Because some traitorous part of me had already begun to wonder what it would feel like if I did.