Bound to Mafia Princess

Secrets

Back at the mansion, I expected Jay to march me straight to my father’s study and lay everything bare. Instead, he stopped me in the grand foyer, his hand gripping my wrist lightly but firmly.

“Go to your room,” he said, his voice devoid of the earlier anger.

“What about my dad?” I asked cautiously.

“I’ll handle him,” Jay replied, his eyes meeting mine.

I stared at him for a moment, unsure what to make of his sudden shift in tone. There was no lecture, no condescension—just a quiet resolve that made my stomach twist.

“Okay,” I said softly, pulling away and heading up the stairs.

---

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, guilt, and something else I couldn’t quite name. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jay’s face, the way his mask had slipped for just a moment, revealing a vulnerability I didn’t know he had.

By morning, I was still restless, and the mansion felt stifling. I needed to get out, to clear my head and figure out why Jay Carter—my infuriating, overprotective bodyguard—was suddenly occupying so much space in my thoughts.

But my plans for a quiet escape were dashed the moment I walked into the kitchen and found Jay leaning against the counter, his arms crossed and a mug of coffee in hand.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

I ignored him, biting into the apple and pretending he didn’t exist. But, as always, Jay had a way of getting under my skin.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll jump out of my window again just to see if you can keep up,” I retorted.

Jay smirked, setting his mug down. “You’re welcome to try, but next time, I won’t be so nice about it.”

“Nice?” I repeated, incredulous. “You call dragging me out of a club in front of everyone ‘nice’?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t throw you over my shoulder,” he said, his smirk widening.

I glared at him, but the tension between us was different now—less hostile, more charged.

“Why do you care so much?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Jay’s smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. He leaned against the counter, his eyes locking onto mine.

“Because it’s my job,” he said simply.

“Bullshit,” I said, surprising even myself with my bluntness. “There’s more to it than that. You wouldn’t get this worked up if it was just a job.”

For a moment, I thought he might actually tell me. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something important, but then he shook his head, his expression hardening.

“Go finish your breakfast,” he said, brushing past me and out of the kitchen.

I stood there, the unanswered question hanging in the air like a ghost.

---

I sat cross-legged on my bed, my fingers flying over her phone as i messaged Mia and Emily.

> Alessia: You should have seen him. Jay didn’t even hesitate. That guy barely touched me, and Jay went full berserker.

Mia: Honestly, kinda hot. Protective and dangerous. That’s a dream combo.

Emily: Just saying, he’s not exactly boyfriend material, but if I were you...

Alessia rolled her eyes at Emily’s comment. Before she could reply, her phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number.

Unknown:- I know the reason for your mother's disappearance.

A location followed—a pin in the middle of nowhere.

For a moment, I just stared at the message. My mother who i have not seen for years . The mother who longed for her affection but not got any.My rational side screamed at me to delete it and end this hope that she will comeback. But the gnawing ache of curiosity, the unrelenting need to know, overpowered reason.

I texted Mia and Emily a quick excuse about feeling tired and dropped my phone onto the bed. My heart raced as I grabbed my keys.

---

The road to the location felt endless. Darkness swallowed the path ahead, my headlights barely cutting through the thick trees that lined either side. My GPS chimed, signaling that I had arrived.

I parked and stepped out, the cool night air brushing against my skin. My breath caught as I looked up.

A gothic mansion loomed in the distance, its silhouette sharp against the night sky. Twisted spires clawed at the heavens, and stone gargoyles stared down from their perches with lifeless eyes. The place seemed frozen in time, its grandeur faded but undeniable.

The iron gates creaked as I pushed them open. The path to the mansion was overgrown, weeds cracking through the stone walkway. The front door was slightly ajar, as if waiting for me.

Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the stillness. Dust hung in the air, the faint scent of decay lingering beneath it. Moonlight streamed through broken windows, casting fractured patterns on the floor.

The architecture was breathtaking despite the neglect. A grand staircase spiraled upward, its banister adorned with intricate carvings. Chandeliers dripped with cobwebs, their crystals dull and forgotten. Portraits lined the walls, their subjects’ eyes following me as I moved deeper into the mansion.

Each step echoed ominously. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but something compelled me forward.

I found myself in what seemed to be a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stretched across the walls, filled with books whose spines were faded with age. A heavy leather armchair sat by the fireplace, its upholstery cracked and peeling.

On the table beside it lay an envelope with my name scrawled on the front.

“Alessia,” I whispered, my voice breaking the silence.

I picked up the envelope and tore it open.

> If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the Black Key. I’m sorry for what this will bring, but you need to know the truth. Trust no one.

I set the note down and scanned the library. My gaze landed on the shelves, and I began running my fingers over the spines of the books. Most were dusty tomes on history, science, and philosophy. But then I saw it—a small black book that seemed out of place.

I pulled it from the shelf, and my breath hitched. It wasn’t a book at all but a hollowed-out casing. Inside lay a key, made of black metal and engraved with intricate designs.

I held it in my hand, the cold surface sending a strange chill through my fingers. The patterns on the key seemed to shimmer, as if alive.

A creak behind me made me freeze.

I spun around, clutching the key tightly.

“Hello?” My voice wavered, the sound swallowed by the emptiness of the mansion.

Silence.

I backed toward the door, my eyes darting around the room. My instincts screamed for me to leave, but something kept me rooted in place.

The corridor outside was darker than before, the shadows thicker and more oppressive. I stepped cautiously, the floorboards groaning beneath my weight.

At the end of the hallway, a door caught my attention. It was unlike the others—plain, unadorned, and unnervingly sturdy.

The Black Key hummed in my hand, its energy pulling me toward the door.

My breath came in shallow gasps as I inserted the key into the lock. The door clicked open, revealing a spiral staircase that descended into darkness.

“Of course,” I muttered, my voice trembling. “Why wouldn’t it be a creepy basement?”

I gripped the railing and began my descent. The air grew colder with each step, the smell of damp earth rising to meet me.

At the bottom, I found myself in an underground chamber. The walls were lined with more shelves, but these books were pristine, their spines gleaming in the dim light.

In the center of the room stood a pedestal, and on it lay a leather-bound journal.

I approached slowly, my heart pounding. The journal looked old but well-kept, its cover embossed with a symbol I didn’t recognize.

I flipped through the pages, each one filled with notes, diagrams, and symbols that made little sense to me.

A noise upstairs made me snap the journal shut.

Someone was here.

The footsteps grew louder, heavier, as they descended the staircase. My blood turned to ice.