The Mafia King's Contract Bride

Chapter 17

SERA

I stood frozen and watched him disappear, and even after he was gone, my legs still didn't move.

“What? You have no plans of performing your duties as a wife?”

Those words scared me. I've been scared of this day, the day he'd finally talk about my duties and finally and unfortunately, the day was now.

I sighed and finally moved myself to the bed, maybe I should call Christy, maybe she could tell him that I wasn't ready. I shook my head, that might put her into trouble and I doubt Christy would want me to, she's been going on and on about me having an orgasm since I told her I haven't had one.

‘He said five minutes Seraphina’ my inner voice reminded me and I finally stood up.

I exhaled and smoothed my nightgown before I slowly stepped out of the room.

The corridor was quiet and felt longer than it normally was. I looked towards the end, where his room was. I had never gone towards that side and I wondered what his room looked like.

Matteo appeared immediately and I sighed in relief, maybe he would distract him.

He smiled as he walked closer and I returned it.

“Follow me,” he said after we exchanged greetings and I raised my eyebrows.

“He said—”

“He said I should bring you,” he cut me off with a smile. “So follow me,” he concluded and I nodded and followed him even though I was confused, that was not the way to his room.

He stopped in front of a door and gestured for me to go in.

“Aren't you coming with me?” I asked and he snorted.

“There's nothing to be scared of Seraphina,” he said and I scoffed.

“You say that because he's your friend.”

“He's your husband.”

“Unfortunately,” I said and silence followed. “Don't tell him that,” I said and he chuckled.

“Of course not.” He looked at me for a second before he turned and left, leaving me alone to enter the lion's den.

I had just knocked once before—

“Come in.”

I pushed the door slowly and walked in. I gasped when I walked in, it was a dark room. The darkest room I've ever seen in my life, its walls and even the curtains were dark. The only light in the room came from a small bulb that allowed me to see the demon seated on the couch and the bed that seemed to scare me even more.

“Don't just stand there,” he suddenly said and I swallowed.

“You said your room,” I blurted out and he stood up then and walked towards me. I shifted back, maybe I should have held my thoughts. He stood in front of me and bent towards me and my hands shook, those consuming eyes of his peered so deep I was sure I was going to get lost.

“Bold of you to think I would let you inside my room,” he said sternly and I made to shift back but his firm hands caught my waist and I shivered.

“Please,” I pleaded, not sure if it was for him to let go or for him to hold me firmer. He pulled me closer and touched my hair, his fingers caressing my back in the firmest way possible.

“Please what?” He asked and I swallowed. “Speak!”

“Please, not now,” I said and he let go immediately, like my words moved something. I regretted it immediately.

He walked back to the couch and picked up a file I never knew was there and then he walked back to me and handed it over.

“I don't know what that little brain of yours told you,” he started and I lowered my head. “But that file is the duty I was talking about,” he said and I blinked.

“W–what?”

"Review it," he said simply. "Flag everything that doesn't work. I need it restructured before Monday.”

I looked at the file then, wondering why I suddenly felt angry. It was a PR campaign proposal, dense with numbers and brand strategy. I looked at him then. He knew what I studied.

“Sit on the bed,” he ordered and I sat down. “You have less than ten minutes,” he said and I got to work. The silence that followed was the loudest I had ever sat inside, it wasn't uncomfortable but it wasn't comfortable either, maybe because I knew that I was being watched.

I flipped through the pages, checking every date, every proposal, and trying to identify the problem. I found the first problem in less than five minutes—a brand partnership budget that was inflated beyond what the campaign strategy could justify. I flagged it and kept reading. I found two more structural issues in the next section, a misaligned target demographic, a timeline that contradicted itself on consecutive pages.

I restructured as I went, making notes in the margins, reorganizing the proposal logic the way I had learned to do, and along the way, my heart warmed and it felt fulfilling.

I looked up at some point to reach for the pen he had left beside the document and that was when I noticed that he was staring, I picked the pen and underlined the problems before I gently closed the document.

“I’m done,” I whispered and held the document out to him and he took it. I watched him go through it without a word, my heart beating as I hoped I didn't make any mistakes. He finally closed the document and stood up without a word, then he looked at me and I swallowed.

“You start on Monday, Moretti,” he said flatly and my eyes widened. He can't be real.

“Monday?” I asked, while trying to conceal the excitement.

“Department of PR and Marketing,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Since that seems to be the only thing you're capable of,” he said and I lowered my head.

“Thank you—” I started but he cut me off.

“You're a De Luca,” he said. “It's expected of you. I’m not doing you a favour.”

I nodded but I didn't believe that. My father didn't think I was worthy of his company after all, so for this, I was grateful.

“You're dismissed,” he said and I stood up immediately and walked towards the door.

And for the first time since I came into the De Luca mansion, I felt important.