My cold Mafia husband

Escape

~ Eleanora's POV ~

We made the plan in forty minutes.

Taylor's cousin had a flat in London. A direct flight from Linate, two hours in the air, and by morning I would be somewhere the Esposito name carried less weight.

Not a permanent solution. Just breathing room.

Enough time to think clearly, contact a lawyer, and figure out whether an arrangement made between my father and another man could legally trap me without my consent.

I packed one bag.

Passport. Cards. Emergency cash from the biscuit tin at the back of my wardrobe - one of my mother's habits, because she believed every woman should always keep something hidden away for bad days.

Dark jeans. Trainers. A jacket.

In the mirror, I looked like someone going somewhere normal.

I tried not to think too hard about the difference between leaving and running.

At half past midnight, I texted Taylor.

Ready.

Her driver, Kofi, arrived fifteen minutes later. Calm, reliable, the kind of person who became even steadier when things went wrong.

I slipped quietly out of the apartment and climbed into the back seat beside Taylor.

For four whole minutes, I believed we were going to make it.

Then Kofi glanced into the mirror.

"There is a car behind us," he said calmly. "It has been there since we left."

I turned.

A black Mercedes followed at a careful distance, dark windows reflecting the empty Milan streets.

"Lose it," Taylor said immediately.

Kofi tried.

He turned off the main roads, cut through side streets, doubled back twice.

The Mercedes stayed with us.

Patient. Unhurried.

Like it already knew how this would end.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

Taylor looked at the screen, then at me.

I answered.

"Signorina Caruso."

The voice was low and controlled, carrying the kind of calm that made it more unsettling.

"Where exactly do you think you are going?"

A chill moved down my spine.

Not because he sounded threatening.

Because he sounded certain.

"I don't know who this is," I said.

We both knew that was a lie.

"Pull over, Eleanora. This ends here. No one will be harmed."

"Your word means nothing to me."

A brief silence.

"That will change."

The line disconnected.

Seconds later, the Mercedes pulled alongside us.

Another black SUV emerged from a side street ahead, slowing just enough to force Kofi to stop.

Everything about it was controlled. Efficient. Practiced.

Kofi pulled over on a narrow road lined with closed restaurants and old stone buildings.

Taylor grabbed my arm.

The SUV door opened first.

A large man in a dark suit stepped out and positioned himself near the car without approaching.

Then the rear door of the Mercedes opened.

And Vincenzo Esposito stepped into the street.

I had searched his name online earlier that evening.

The photos had all looked the same - distant, polished, carefully controlled. A man surrounded by power but untouched by intimacy.

In person, he was worse.

Tall. Dark-haired. Immaculately dressed at one in the morning as though time worked differently around him.

But it was his stillness that struck me first.

Nothing about him felt rushed. Or uncertain.

Even his eyes gave nothing away.

He looked at me through the car window with the calm focus of someone arriving exactly where he intended to be.

I opened the door and stepped out before Taylor could stop me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Just the quiet street. The buzzing streetlight overhead. The city holding its breath around us.

I lifted my chin.

"I won't go quietly."

My voice stayed steady.

Something unreadable moved briefly across his expression.

"I haven't asked you to."

The words settled heavily between us.

He said something quiet in Italian to the man beside him, then looked back at me.

"The wedding is tomorrow," he said evenly. "You should get some rest."

Then he turned and got back into the Mercedes.

The door shut softly behind him.

I stood in the middle of the empty street with my overnight bag hanging from one shoulder and Taylor beside me, staring at the darkened window of his car.

And with a terrible kind of clarity, I realised I had just met the man I was going to marry.

He was every dangerous thing I had imagined.

And somehow, something worse.