Married To The Ruthless Mafia Lord

Chapter 5

Clara’s POV

I stirred awake after a light knock came at my door. When I pried my eyes open, disappointment washed over me immediately after realizing where I was. It was all real—it hadn’t been a dream.

The knock came again, this time louder.

“It’s Elena, Ms. Clara.”

“Come in,” I answered, and the door swung open, revealing the friendly lady who hadn’t stopped checking up on me since I got here.

“Good morning, Ms. Clara,” she smiled, bowing slightly as I stepped down from the bed.

“Good morning, Elena, and please just call me Clara,” I said, and she nodded gently.

“I came to inform you breakfast is served, and Mr. Bellucci requests your presence immediately,” she said.

Yeah, right. I was in the devil’s den, and I had to play by his rules or he’d kill me. This was all sorts of crazy and dumb of me—to just get into a marriage because I had nowhere or no one to turn to.

I flashed a smile at Elena. “I’ll be down in a second.”

She nodded, turned on her heel, and stepped out of my bedroom. I made my way immediately to the bathroom, not wanting to waste much of the Devil’s time.

In no time, I was done with everything and began descending the stairs. I approached the table where Zane sat, his back turned to me, but I could already tell how stern his face looked.

“Stop standing behind there like a lost tourist and take a seat,” he spoke, sending chills down my spine.

How the heck did he even see me? Did mafia lords have eyes behind their heads now?

“Good morning,” I greeted, taking a seat opposite him.

He didn’t respond to my greeting, didn’t utter a word, and continued eating.

A plate was brought before me by one of the maids, and my food was served—a cup of coffee, some avocado toast, and sausage on the side.

The aroma struck my nostrils, and a smile spread across my face. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a proper meal.

After Dad’s death a week ago, I had barely been surviving. Maybe being married to Zane for a while wasn’t so bad after all but at the same time, maybe it’s the worst thing ever.

“Are you going to eat or will you keep looking at the food?” he asked, locking eyes with me.

My body stiffened, and I picked up the cup before me, bringing it to my lips as he watched my every move.

God knew how badly I wanted to devour this food like I was in some eating contest, but I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself—especially not in front of him.

“My men went through your burnt house,” Zane said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “They managed to salvage this.” He slid an envelope across the table.

I picked it up, hands trembling as I tore it open and found the black beaded necklace Dad had given me when I had just turned twelve. It was, in fact, the only piece of jewelry I owned.

“Thank you,” I smiled faintly, clutching the necklace.

“Thank my men. I’m not the one who thought to keep something irrelevant and stupid as that,” he scoffed.

My heart clenched as I stared at his emotionless, well-sculpted face. He didn’t have to be so mean all the time, but yet he was.

“You can have it, but never put it around your neck—not in my house. It’s too cheap,” Zane continued as he pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

I remained glued to mine, the coffee suddenly becoming sour in my mouth as I fought the urge not to let his words affect me.

He turned on his heel, then turned back at me.

“Get ready. You’re going shopping, so dump the filthy rags you came into this house with,” Zane concluded and left.

“What a jerk,” I murmured, tucking my necklace away.

I finished up the meal before me and headed to my bedroom. Not long after, a knock came at the door, and it was time to leave the house.

I got into the same car as Zane, and we were seated at the back while Bongo sat in front with the driver.

The drive was completely silent—so much so that even the drop of a pin could be heard despite the hum of the engine.

Ten minutes into the drive, just as I started to relax a little against the leather seat, Zane’s phone rang. He answered after the first ring, his voice low and clipped.

“What?” he barked. His eyes darkened almost immediately, the muscles in his jaw ticking.

Was he always like this? Always so provoked even by a harmless call.

Without warning, Zane slammed his palm against the window.

“Turn the car around. We’re going to the warehouse. Now!”

Bongo made a sharp U-turn, nearly throwing me across the seat.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my heart hammering against my chest.

Zane’s ice-cold stare pinned me to the spot, and my stomach twisted relentlessly.

“Didn’t they teach you to keep your mouth shut where you’re coming from?” he asked, turning away from my gaze, focusing only on the window.

We pulled up to a large, rusted building surrounded by armed men. Zane stepped out first without sparing me a glance. Bongo yanked my door open, and I stumbled out, my legs weak and trembling.

Inside the warehouse, the air reeked of metal and blood. A man was on his knees, blood dripping from a split lip, his hands bound tightly behind his back with wire.

“You disappoint me, Carlo,” Zane said, his voice calm, almost amused, as he circled him like a lion toying with its dying prey. “Stealing from me? You should know better than to steal from me.”

Carlo sobbed, his body trembling.

“Please, Mr. Bellucci—please! I have a family—”

Zane crouched before him, grabbing his hair and forcing his head back until Carlo cried out in pain.

“You should have thought about your family before you decided to steal from me,” Zane hissed, releasing him with a shove that sent the man sprawling face-first into the concrete.

Without warning, Zane stood, pulled a gun from his belt, and—bang—shot Carlo point-blank in the forehead.

I screamed, stumbling back and slipping on the blood-slick floor. My hands slapped the cold ground to catch myself, but it was too late—blood had smeared across my palms.

Tears blurred my vision. I scrambled backward until my back hit a crate, heart hammering so violently I thought it would burst.

Zane turned slowly, the gun still dangling from his fingers. He walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps, like a wolf toying with cornered prey.

“Get up,” he barked.

I shook my head, too terrified to move.

Zane grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to my feet and I whimpered in pain.

“Look at him,” he ordered, dragging me toward Carlo’s corpse. My legs fought to resist, but he was too strong.

He pushed me down to my knees beside the body, the stench of blood and death making me gag.

“This…” Zane crouched beside me, his hand still twisted in my hair, “this is what happens to people who think they can screw me over.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears streaming down my face.

He gave my head a sharp jerk.

“Open your eyes and look at him.”

Sobbing, I opened them and stared at the lifeless body mere inches from me.

Zane’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper against my ear.

“You try to escape… lie to me… even think about betraying me… and you’ll be next. Understand?”

I nodded frantically, the salty taste of tears flooding my mouth.

“Say it,” his voice was a low growl now.

“I-I understand,” I choked out.

He released me roughly, and I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

Zane stood, sliding the gun back into his holster with a casualness that made me sick. He dusted his hands off like he’d just finished a boring chore.

“Clean this mess up,” he barked at his men.

Then, without even sparing me a glance, he strode away—leaving me kneeling on the cold, blood-stained floor, utterly shattered.