A Marriage with the Mafia Prince

Chapter 8 - This is a joke.

A L Y S S A

I stand there like a deer caught in the headlights as the word replays in my mind.

Bride.

The word feels foreign, almost absurd, yet attached to me in a room like this, standing in front of a man who looks at me like a problem to be solved rather than a person. I feel small under Stephano's gaze as he looks back at me. He does not react right away, nor does he blink or move or soften his gaze. He stares me up and down, his expression completely difficult to read, making it almost impossible for me to tell what exactly is going through his mind. Finally, he turns away from me and turns towards both his father and mother, his eyes bouncing between the two of them.

And that's when we all hear it. The humourless, cold laugh he lets out, one that means the atmosphere in the room is completely heavy and unbearable.

“This is a joke,” he says, motioning his hand towards me, immediately making my heart sink to my feet before suddenly racing. The expression on his parents' faces changes immediately, both of them becoming completely displeased with his reaction.

“It is not,” his father replies without raising his voice. “You knew this was coming.” He says sternly, and the smile on Stephano's face drops abruptly.

“I told you... I was not interested,” Stephano says, finally looking back at me again, his eyes moving over my face with clear irritation. “I have said it enough times for it to matter. You think bringing a stranger into this room changes anything. The answer is still no.” He answers with the same firmness as his father, and that's when my anxiety spikes, listening to the exchange of the Valentino men.

“This is not a suggestion,” Mr Valentino says, challenging his son's boldness. “You have postponed this long enough. The family needs stability. You are going to take over whether you want to or not, and that position comes with obligations. That is something you have known for a long time.”

Stephano’s jaw clenches, this irritation growing by the second. “Obligation,” he repeats. “Marriage. Children. Compliance.”

“I mean a future,” his father replies. “A continuation. You cannot lead with nothing behind you. You need a wife. You need an heir.” He contunues and it makes me wonder why the Valentinos would insist so much on their son having a child now, so much that they would arrange a marriage for him. Perhaps that's just something I'll figure out along the way...

I stand frozen between them, my pulse pounding in my ears, my body locked in place by fear and disbelief. I do not speak. I do not dare interrupt something that feels far larger than me, something that has existed long before I ever walked into this room.

Stephano looks at me again, and the room seems to narrow.

There is no attraction in his gaze, no curiosity in the way people normally look at something new. There is assessment, cold and thorough, like I am being evaluated for suitability, for usefulness, for risk. It makes my skin crawl despite how undeniably handsome he is, despite the fact that if I saw him anywhere else, I might have noticed how striking he is, how carefully put together, how easily he would turn heads.

But here, his attractiveness does not comfort me. It unsettles me, and feels like a warning sign rather than a gift.

His mother shifts slightly in her chair, her posture tight, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor instead of her son’s face, and I realise that even she is cautious around him, that this tension is not new.

“You want me to bind myself to someone I have never met,” Stephano says, turning back to his father. “To produce a bloodline because you decided it is time?”

Mr Valentino steps forward, his jaw tight. “You will speak with respect. This family has waited long enough. If you walk away from this, you walk away from everything that comes with the name.”

My pulse continues to race as the atmosphere of the room grows heavy, pressing against my chest and making it hard to breathe. Stephano does not respond immediately, instead his gaze locks onto his father’s, unblinking, as if he is holding something back, something that would shatter this fragile calm if released.

He finally exhales and turns back to me, my heart stutters.

He walks toward me slowly, his steps unhurried, his eyes never leaving mine, and I have the unsettling sense that he is watching for any sign of weakness, any indication that I might retreat or crumble under the attention. He stops directly in front of me and stares down at me, close enough that I can smell his cologne, dark and expensive, and I have to fight the urge to step back.

His face remains cold, his expression giving nothing away, and that emptiness frightens me, keeping me bolted in place.

“This would be an arrangement,” he says, his voice low enough to make chills run along my skin. “Nothing more.”

I manage to nod, my throat too tight to trust my voice as I stare up at him. But I have to say something. I can't just let him see how terrified I am of him, and so with all the courage I can muster... I finally speak up.

"I understand the terms completely," I say softly and clearly, my voice just above a whisper. As I speak, his expression relaxes slightly, but only for a moment before his eyebrows return to the same frown he had on before.

“As long as she can provide an heir,” Mr Valentino adds, “she will have the full support of this family.” He continues, but Stephano’s gaze stays on me for several seconds longer, his eyes searching for something I do not understand, before he finally looks at his father again.

“Fine,” he says, his jaw clenching tightly before he looks me dead in the eye.

“I will marry her.”