The Mafia King's Contract Bride

Chapter 9

SERA

I looked at the note for the fiftieth time before gently dropping it on my bed.

Find me before they find you.

Find who? My mother? But she was dead. The authorities had found her body near the drug centers, apparently, she was overdosed. I sighed and slowly stood up, not wanting to dwell on the death of the only woman I was sure loved me. I wiped my eyes and gently walked out, looking for the housekeeper.

I found her in the hallway, addressing some staff and holding a stack of folded linens. She looked up at me immediately as I got closer.

“Do you need anything, ma'am?” She asked simply with a smile.

“U–uh, yeah, uhm, who packed my things?” I asked then, trying so hard to control how nervous I was.

She paused. "Staff handled it, ma'am. I couldn't say which one."

"Could you find out?” I asked gently but something flickered behind her eyes, not suspicion—something that looked like caution. She smiled then.

“I’ll ask around,” she said, in a tone that promised nothing. I thanked her and walked past them, knowing deep down then that in this house, they only answered to one man.

I walked further then, deciding to fully check out the house I would be caged in. That way, I wouldn't think about things that I shouldn't. My legs felt lighter than they had in the morning, and I walked towards the corridor. The corridors opened into a wing I hadn't seen, heavier doors, and dimmer light. I kept walking towards it, but a body blocked me before I even realised it.

"Not this way, ma'am,” he said sternly and I shifted back.

"I was just looking—"

"Not this way," he repeated, gentler the second time but no less final. I nodded and turned back, if anything, my room was safer anyway.

I had barely settled in when a knock sounded. it was gentle and somehow, I knew who it was.

“Christy?” I asked and she gently pushed it open with a smile.

“How did you know it was me?” She asked and I shrugged.

“You knocked,” I simply said and she nodded after some seconds. She stood near the door for a few seconds and I wondered what the problem was.

“Aren't you going to invite me to sit?” she finally asked and my lips parted slowly.

“Oh, sorry. I didn't know you needed an invitation in your house,” I said and she smiled before sitting.

“It's your room Sera,” she said gently and I smiled. “And technically, it's my brother's house,” she continued and I frowned.

“You good?”

I blinked before I slowly nodded. She looked at me for some seconds before—

“You know what? Tell me something normal," she said. "Favorite color, worst subject in school. Anything that isn't about this house.”

I looked at her then and almost smiled. Almost. “Well, my favourite colour is indigo and for the worst subject, I think maths. I hate maths.”

“Oh my God, I hate maths too,” she burst out and that was when I laughed. She looked at me fondly then before gently holding my hands. “You'll be fine,” she gently promised. “I’ll make sure of that.”

I looked at her and nodded. I believed her, I didn't know why but I did and for a moment, I thought about telling her about the note, about the question pressing in my chest since the moment I found that note. I opened my mouth but closed it immediately.

“What?” She creased her brows.

“Uhm?”

“You seem like you wanted to tell me something.”

“Oh nothing.” I shook my head. “I’m just tired.”

She didn't believe me, her expression told me that, but she didn't push either, and I was grateful for it.

********************************************

When the housekeeper announced that dinner was ready for me, I thought it was going to be just me as usual. But the moment I got to the hall, I froze. He was there, seated alone at the dining table and waiting for who I immediately guessed was me.

“If I wanted a mannequin, Moretti, I would have gotten one,” he said flatly and I finally moved.

“W–what do you want?” I finally asked and he looked at me in a funny way, like my question amused him.

“In a week, I will show you to the world,” he finally stated and I held my breath. “I don't want a wife people would feel sorry for.” He paused and studied me then. “Which is why, I’m taking time to see how you could be helped, so don't waste my time standing there,” he concluded and I finally walked towards the dining table. I pulled my seat and slowly sat down.

"Straighten your back," he said, before I'd even lifted my fork. "You sit like you're apologizing for existing."

I straightened immediately, heat crawling up my neck.

“The event is in a week,” he continued, cutting his food without looking up. "You'll need to speak more than you're used to, and carry yourself like someone who belongs in the room. Right now, you don't."

"I'm trying," I said quietly.

"Do more than trying.”

I set my fork down, the words landing somewhere tender I hadn't braced for. "Why does it even matter how I sit, or how I speak?" I asked, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. "I mean nothing to you.”

He looked up then, and the silence that followed felt longer than it probably was.

"Because what's mine reflects on me," he said evenly and I froze.

Mine. The word landed strangely, heavier than anything else he'd said all evening, though his face gave away nothing — no warmth hiding behind it, no second meaning I could find no matter how I searched his expression. Just a man stating a fact about an object he owned.

I looked back at my plate but the screeching of his seat made me look up again, he walked toward me then and I held my breath, my hands slowly starting to shake. He stood in front of me then and gently turned my seat, facing him directly now and then, he bent towards me.

“Tell me something, Moretti,” he started and my fingers stilled. “Does the word ‘mine’ bother you?” he asked and my chest tightened.

“N–no,” I finally stuttered after a few seconds. He looked at me for three seconds before standing straight.

“Great,” he finally said. "Don't let it, you're an arrangement, not a wife. Remember the difference, and this will be easier for both of us,” he said coldly and walked out then.