THE MAFIA FAKE FIANCE

SEVEN

ANDREA

I woke up to my phone vibrating like it was trying to crawl off the nightstand. For a second, I didn’t even know where I was. My head hurt, my mouth was dry, and my brain was playing flashes from last night like a broken movie reel. The kiss. The cameras. My dad’s face.

When I finally reached for my phone, the screen almost blinded me. Notifications everywhere. Calls, texts, emails. Headlines with my name on them. Costa Heiress Engaged to Rival Mafia Prince.

Even a clip from the ballroom on loop, slow-motion like it was some celebrity thing instead of the start of World War III.

I sat there for a while just staring at it, pillow creases still on my face. I guess I should’ve felt proud or brave or something, but mostly I felt sick. And weirdly alive. Like I’d done something I wasn’t supposed to and now there was no way to undo it.

When I finally got up, the house was too quiet. That fake, heavy kind of quiet that comes right before someone yells. Nobody looked at me. The house staff moved like ghosts, eyes down, lips pressed tight. Even Maria, who usually greeted me with a hug, just gave me this soft, nervous smile.

So yeah, apparently I was the family scandal now.

It didn’t take long before a maid told me, “Your father wants to see you.” Like I didn’t already know.

I stood in front of his office door for a few seconds, just breathing. Then I went in.

He was sitting behind his desk, phone in one hand, tablet in the other, completely calm. That was worse than if he’d been throwing things. Enzo was standing near the wall, hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor.

“Sit,” my dad said.

I did, even though every muscle in my body was screaming at me to run.

He pressed play on his tablet. The video of me and Nathan filled the room. That kiss again. My father watching it like it was evidence. When it ended, he set the tablet down carefully and looked at me.

“You embarrassed this family,” he said quietly.

I opened my mouth, but he raised a hand.

“No excuses. You made a mockery of everything I built. So you’re going to fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“You’re moving in with him,” he said. “Maybe then you’ll understand the consequences.”

My chest tightened. “You can’t just…”

“I can,” he said, cutting me off. “Pack your things.”

I looked at Enzo, but he didn’t say anything. Just this tiny, helpless flicker in his eyes that almost broke me.

“Fine,” I said. My voice didn’t even shake. “I’ll go.”

He leaned back, satisfied, like he’d won something. “Good. And Andrea don’t ever come back”

I stood, nodded once, and walked out. I didn’t let him see my hands shaking until I was halfway down the hall.

Packing felt weirdly final. Maria came to help, folding my clothes like she was handling something fragile. Neither of us said much for a while.

When I finally did, it came out small. “Guess I’m moving out.”

Maria sighed. “Be careful with that man.”

I looked up. “Nathan?”

She nodded and gave me a sad smile like i was moving in with the devil.

When we finished, I stood in the middle of the room, looking around. My whole childhood was packed into two suitcases. The red dress from last night still draped over the chair. I didn’t take it. I just left it there. It felt cursed.

The car ride to the De Luca mansion took about an hour. The driver didn’t speak, thank God. Outside the window, the city rolled by like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

The De Luca place was different from ours. Less old money, more fortress. Big black gates, cameras everywhere, glass walls that looked bulletproof. It didn’t feel like a home, more like a place built for someone who didn’t trust the world.

Nathan was waiting outside when the car stopped, leaning on the railing with a cup of coffee like he hadn’t just been dragged into my personal disaster.

“You could’ve warned me I’d wake up trending,” I said as I got out.

He smirked and the maids took my suitcase from the driver and motioned toward the house. “Come on, princess. Let’s show you around ”

Inside, everything was spotless. Too spotless. The kind of place that looked like no one actually lived there. Black floors, gray walls, glass everywhere. No family photos, no art, just space.

“You actually live here?” I asked.

“Why? Expecting skulls on the walls?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

He grinned a little. “You’ll fit right in then.”

He started walking, and I followed, dragging my smaller bag behind me.

“House rules,” he said, not even looking back. “You can go anywhere you want. Kitchen’s over there, gym downstairs, office up here. Don’t touch my files, don’t open my safe, don’t bother me before ten a.m.”

I rolled my eyes. “Got it, dictator.”

He stopped at the end of a long hallway. There was one door there, different from the rest. It was old with dark wood instead of glass, with a heavy lock on it.

He turned toward me, his voice quieter now. “Except this one. Don’t go in there.”

I looked at it, then at him. “What’s in there? A dungeon? A secret girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” His face didn’t change. “Just stay out.”

“Sure,” I said, half-laughing, because honestly, I didn’t care. I was too tired to start decoding his mysteries.

He walked away, leaving me standing there. The door didn’t even seem that interesting. Probably just an office or some rich-guy paranoia thing.

He showed me the guest wing … my “room.” More like a mini-apartment: bedroom, bathroom, closet bigger than my old dorm.

“This’ll do,” I said, setting my bag down.

He leaned against the doorway. “Press is already outside the gate. We’ll have to put out a statement before lunch.”

“Let me guess, something classy like ‘It’s true love deal with it.’”

“Something like that,” he said still smirking.

I sat on the bed. “So this is my punishment. Living in your ice palace.”

He shrugged. “Could be worse. You could still be marrying Lucio.”

I flinched at his name. He noticed. Of course he did.

“Relax,” Nathan said, tone softer. “He won’t touch you while you’re under my roof.”

“Wow,” I said. “You make protection sound romantic.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

By afternoon, the PR nightmare had reached full meltdown. Both families wanted statements, damage control, the usual. Nathan set up in his office, typing like he didn’t even need to think about it.

I hovered behind him. “You’re writing our love story now?”

“Public version,” he said, still typing. “Short, simple, believable.”

I leaned over his shoulder to read it. ‘The engagement between Andrea Costa and Nathan De Luca symbolizes the end of rivalry and the start of unity between families.’

I snorted. “Unity? Seriously?”

He looked up at me. “You got a better word?”

“Lunacy.”

He actually smiled at that, but he didn’t change it. Instead, he printed the statement and handed it to me to sign.

“I’m not signing that,” I said.

“Then your father wins.”

I stared at him for a second, then grabbed the pen and scribbled my name at the bottom. “Happy now?”

He nodded once. “Press conference tomorrow. Wear something expensive.”

“I’ve got standards.” I threw back.

Dinner that night was quiet. Too quiet. The dining table could fit twenty people, but it was just the two of us sitting at opposite ends.

I poked at the food. “Do all your dinners feel like funerals?”

He looked up from his plate. “Only when I’m dining with enemies.”

“Cute.”

“You started this, remember?”

“Yeah,” I said, stabbing a piece of pasta. “And I’ll finish it.”

He smirked. “Now that I’d like to see.”

For a while, we just ate. The silence wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable either. It was weirdly calm, like both of us were trying to figure out what this thing even was.

I finally said, “You didn’t have to help me last night. With Lucio, I mean.”

He looked up. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then why?”

“Strategy,” he said, like that was enough.

“Right. Strategy.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t mistake strategy for mercy, Costa.”

I forced a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Later, I showered and changed into an oversized shirt I’d stolen from one of my old college boyfriends years ago. I walked down the hall to grab some water, and my eyes caught that door again the one he’d told me not to touch.

It looked even more out of place at night, sitting at the end of the hallway like it was watching me. But I didn’t stop. I wasn’t curious, not really. I had enough problems without adding mystery door of the mafia house to the list.

I filled a glass in the kitchen, drank half, and went back to my room. The place was too quiet again. I wasn’t used to silence this big. At home, even when no one talked, you could hear the city outside, cars, staff, life. Here, it was just… nothing.

When I finally crawled into bed, I scrolled through my phone. Half the internet thought I was crazy. The other half thought I’d pulled the greatest power move in mafia history. I didn’t reply to anyone.

Somewhere across the hall, I heard footsteps, probably him. The sound faded after a while.

I pulled the blanket up and tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut up. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that stupid door.