My cold Mafia husband

girls outing gone wrong

~ Eleanora's POV ~

I didn't ask permission.

That was the first decision I made.

Taylor called at six saying there was a party at Palazzo Visconti - rooftop, open bar, half of Milan's rich children pretending they were more interesting than they actually were - and did I want to come?

I looked around the villa.

Eight days in this house and the only places I had seen were my bedroom, the dining room, and Vincenzo's study doorway.

So I said yes before she finished speaking.

I didn't knock on his study door.

Didn't leave a note.

I went upstairs and opened the wardrobe someone had stocked for me with clothes chosen by people who clearly assumed they knew my taste better than I did.

The red dress was hanging near the back.

Silk. Low-backed. Dangerous.

The kind of dress that didn't need attention because it expected it automatically.

I put my hair up. Red lipstick. Heels.

When I looked in the mirror, I recognised myself for the first time in over a week.

There you are.

Then I walked downstairs, through the garden, and into Taylor's waiting car without looking back.

~ * ~

The party was exactly what I needed.

Music loud enough to blur thought. Heat rising from the crowded terrace. Milan glittering below us.

Taylor spotted me the second I stepped out onto the rooftop.

She looked at the dress and went completely silent.

"Nora," she said eventually.

"I know."

"Does your husband know where you are?"

"No."

Her grin widened immediately. "Perfect."

For a few hours, things felt normal again.

We drank champagne. We danced. Somebody spilled vodka near the DJ booth and two girls nearly started a fight over absolutely nothing.

It felt stupid and loud and gloriously alive.

Then Luca appeared.

Tall. Expensive watch. Easy confidence.

The type of man who had probably never experienced real consequences in his life.

He asked if he could buy me a drink.

I told him I already had one.

He stayed anyway.

At first, he was harmless enough. Funny, even.

But the longer we stood there, the closer he moved.

Then his hand settled against my waist.

Lightly.

Like he assumed it belonged there.

I stiffened immediately.

"I don't think-"

The atmosphere shifted.

That's the only way I can explain it.

Not a sound. Not a visible interruption. Just something changing in the air around us.

Nearby conversations faltered.

People started looking toward the entrance without fully meaning to.

I turned.

Vincenzo stood about ten feet away.

Dark suit. No tie.

His eyes were fixed on Luca's hand.

Not angry.

Worse.

Completely still.

Luca noticed him a second later and removed his hand so fast it almost like the silk burnt him.

Vincenzo's gaze lifted to mine.

Then he crossed the terrace.

Six steps. Maybe seven.

His hand closed around my wrist when he reached me.

Not rough.

Not gentle either.

Certain.

"We're leaving," he said.

Taylor appeared beside me immediately. "She's a grown woman."

Vincenzo looked at her calmly.

"Yes," he said. "She is."

Then his eyes returned to me.

"And she's my wife."

No jealousy. No dramatic threat.

Just fact.

He guided me toward the exit.

And somehow that was worse.

~ * ~

The drive home was silent.

Not the comfortable kind.

The suffocating kind.

Vincenzo sat beside me with his jaw tight and his hands motionless in his lap.

He didn't look at me once.

The second the villa doors closed behind us, he turned.

"What were you thinking?"

His voice stayed controlled, but barely.

"I went to a party."

"You disappeared without security. Without telling anyone where you were."

He stopped abruptly and pressed his fingers against his forehead for a second before continuing.

"Do you understand what could happen to you?"

"I'm not a prisoner."

"I know that."

"Then what is this?"

I stepped closer before I could stop myself.

The heels put me near enough to look him directly in the eye.

"Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you're angry something you own left the house."

A sharp look flashed across his face.

"You are not something I own."

"Then stop acting like it."

Silence hit the room hard after that.

We were standing too close now.

Close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw.

"That man had his hands on you," he said quietly.

"That man was harmless."

"That's not the point."

"I was handling it."

"I know."

The words came out rougher than usual.

His eyes stayed on mine.

"I still didn't like it."

That landed somewhere I wasn't prepared for.

Not because he sounded possessive.

Because he sounded honest.

We were both silent for a few seconds.

I Finally, I crossed my arms and said, "Next time, I'll tell you where I'm going. I won't ask."

His jaw tightened again.

"You'll take Marco."

"One guard."

"Marco."

I exhaled. "Fine."

Another silence.

His eyes dropped briefly to the red dress before he looked away again.

"Go to bed, Eleanora."

Quiet voice now. Tired almost.

I turned and walked upstairs.

Halfway down the corridor, I looked back.

He was still standing in the entrance hall alone, one hand flat against the wall beside him.

That image stayed with me long after I closed my bedroom door.