The Consequential Bride Of the Mafia Lord

41

Marcelina~

The sound was so sudden it seemed to rip through the corridor and lodge itself inside my chest.

It had been muffled by the heavy doors, but I knew exactly what I had heard. If I hadn't been standing this close, I probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

My eyes flew to the two men, expecting them to be on their heels, ready to barge into the room. But they didn't move, not even a flinch. They stood there like they had heard nothing at all.

My mouth parted.

What in the hell?

I hurried toward them, my pulse climbing so fast it made me dizzy.

"Didn't you hear that?"

One of them looked at me calmly. "It's nothing,"

"Nothing?" I half-yelled. "Someone could be bleeding to death in there. Someone could be dead."

The second man gave me the same maddeningly calm look.

"It is not our place to interfere."

I stared at him.

That sounded f*****g insane.

What kind of people heard a gunshot and called it nothing?

What kind of people stood outside a door and did absolutely nothing while someone inside could be hurt?

"I want to go in," I said immediately, my heart slamming hard against my ribs.

"I'm sorry, we can't allow that."

"Move."

"Signora—"

"Move," I repeated, sharper now.

But they didn't.

"Please return to your room."

"No."

My throat tightened.

A sick feeling rose in my stomach as my mind went somewhere darker.

What if it were Domenico?

What if he was hurt? Or worse.

The thought hit me so hard that bile rose at the back of my throat.

I hated it.

Hated how fast fear rushed through me.

Our marriage was temporary. Complicated. Forced in ways neither of us had wanted. But he was still the father of my child. And despite everything—his coldness, his arrogance, his impossible way of speaking to me—I cared.

More than I wanted to admit.

I didn't care that the men inside were father and son. Blood didn't always mean safety.

Ignoring the guards, I pushed forward.

At that exact moment, the door swung open and Domenico's father stepped out. I stumbled back so fast my heel almost slipped.

He looked furious.

Not just that.

There was something hard and murderous in his eyes that made my breath catch.

For a second I couldn't move.

I looked him over quickly, taking in his perfect suit. Not a crease was out of place, no blood, no sign he had been hurt.

Which meant—

My stomach dropped.

Domenico.

My mind had already rushed past him and I barely registered that the older man had stopped and was now looking directly at me with cold, sharp, and assessing eyes.

Without a word, he turned and walked away.

The second he did, I slipped past the guards before they could stop me and rushed into the office. My heart was beating so hard it almost hurt.

Fuck it, it did hurt.

At once, my eyes flew across the room, taking in his desk, the chairs, the floor, the shelves lined with books. I was looking for blood. For a body. For any sign that something terrible had happened.

At first, my eyes moved over everything without truly seeing any of it. My thoughts were too scattered, moving too fast.

Then I found him.

And this time, I stopped.

Because the man I had been s**t scared over was sitting behind his desk with a phone pressed to his ear. He looked calm, composed with not a single hair out of place.

For a moment, I could only stare.

My eyes ran over him quickly, taking in his immaculate dark and perfectly fitted suit. He looked straight out of a fashion show with no blood in sight, no wound, and no sign of pain.

How—

"I'll call you right back," he said into the phone, snapping me out of my thoughts before they could form fully.

I lifted my gaze to his face and was immediately struck by his features. Dark, sharp, and, most importantly, blank. Like I was staring into a nonexistent entity that was only projecting itself onto the physical world.

Without taking his eyes off me, he hung up slowly and lowered the phone.

Then he raised one perfect brow. "Are you lost, Doc?"

I just stood there, staring at him.

My thoughts had slammed into each other so hard they refused to form words.

And then I noticed the glasses.

Black-framed, sitting neatly on his face, adding a sharp edge of intelligence to his already dangerous features. There was something sinister about them.

Something that caused heat to rise from my stomach, settling lower. And lower.

I tried to ignore it, to push it down before it turned into something else, but it only deepened the moment he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.

It was as if the room itself adjusted to him, like he had never been anything but the center of it.

He was tall, annoyingly handsome, and not to mention, completely unharmed.

Was this really the man I had almost lost my mind over?

"Is there a problem, Marcelina?"

I swallowed hard and tightened my grip on my bag.

"I..." My voice came out smaller than I intended. "I thought you were hurt."