The Mafia's Obstacle

Chapter Four: The three Rules

I woke up in a bed that was bigger than my entire apartment.

For a second, I didn't know where I was. The sheets were black silk. The ceiling was high with little lights that looked like stars. The room smelled like expensive laundry detergent and... him.

Then it all came back. Jaden. Maya. The muffins. Chloe running away. The white dress. The torn pocket. The mansion.

Oh my God. I really did sleep in a mafia king's house.

I sat up. I was still in Chloe's white dress. It was now wrinkled beyond repair. My heart socks were still on.

On the nightstand, there was a tray. Coffee — real coffee, not bookstore coffee — a croissant, and a little note in neat, strong handwriting.

_Rule #1: You eat. You didn't eat yesterday. - A_

A. Alessandro.

Was he watching me sleep? Did he bring this himself?

I picked up the coffee. It was still warm. I took a sip and almost moaned. It was the best coffee I had ever tasted.

Okay, maybe living with a mafia king had some perks.

I got out of bed, my bare feet sinking into a rug so soft it felt like clouds, and padded to the huge glass window. The view was all of Central Park. I could see the whole city waking up.

My phone was buzzing nonstop.

14 missed calls from Dad.

8 from Vanessa.

22 texts from Jaden: _Baby, please, I'm sorry, I was drunk, it was a mistake, where are you?_

And one text from a number I didn't have saved, but I knew who it was.

_Rule #2: Don't read his texts. - A_

I jumped and looked around. Was there a camera?!

I typed back: _Are you watching me??_

He replied instantly: _I have breakfast downstairs at 7:30. Don't be late._

I looked at the clock. 7:28.

I had two minutes to turn from a wrinkled, coffee-stained, heart-sacked mess into a presentable human.

I ran to the bathroom. It was bigger than my living room. There was a bathtub that could fit five people and a shower that looked like a spaceship.

And on the counter, there was a new toothbrush, still in its package, and a pile of clothes.

Not Chloe's clothes. My size. A soft pink sweater, jeans, and... new socks. White socks with little hearts. Exactly like mine, but new and expensive.

And another note.

_Maria bought these. You can keep your old ones if you want. But I like new hearts better. - A_

My throat got tight again. This man... this supposed monster... bought me socks.

I brushed my teeth in thirty seconds, threw on the sweater and jeans — they fit perfectly; how did he know my size? — and ran downstairs.

The dining room was huge. A long black table that could seat twenty people. And at the end of it, sitting alone, was Alessandro.

He was in a black shirt now, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing a tattoo on his forearm. A black dragon. He was reading the Wall Street Journal and drinking coffee like a normal, handsome billionaire, not like a man who kidnapped girls in white dresses.

He looked up when I came in, and his eyes did a slow scan from my messy hair to my new heart socks.

"You were on time," he said.

"I ran. I almost died on your stairs."

"You eat slow."

"I eat fast when I'm nervous."

He pushed a plate toward me. Eggs, bacon, avocado toast. "Eat."

I sat down at the far end of the table, as far from him as possible.

"So," I said, picking up my fork, "what are the rules? You left me Rule #1 and Rule #2 on little notes like a psycho. What's Rule #3?"

He folded his newspaper very carefully.

"There are three rules for living in my house, Aria."

"Okay."

"Rule #1: You eat properly. Three meals."

"Okay, Mom."

He ignored me.

"Rule #2: You don't talk to your ex-boyfriend."

"That's not your business!"

"Rule #3..." He stood up and walked around the table until he was behind my chair. He leaned down, his hands on the armrests of my chair, caging me in. I could feel his breath near my ear.

"Rule #3: You don't leave this house without one of my men or me."

The fork froze halfway to my mouth.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"That's not a rule, that's prison!"

"It's protection. My enemies will know you are my wife by tonight. If you walk alone in New York, you will be taken."

"Wife? I'm not your wife! We are not married!"

"We will be. Friday."

I choked on my egg.

"FRIDAY? That's in three days!"

"The papers are already signed by your father. I just need your signature."

"I'm not signing anything!"

He was so close now I could see the little scar near his eyebrow.

"You will," he whispered.

And then, like he didn't just drop a bomb on my life, he stood up, straightened his shirt, and said, "Maria will show you your closet. We have dinner tonight. Wear something red."

"I'm not wearing red! And I'm not marrying you on Friday!"

He was already walking away, phone ringing.

"Oh, and Aria?" He turned at the doorway. "You broke Rule #2 this morning. You read his texts."

"How —"

"I don't like repeating myself."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my eggs and my heart socks and my future wedding in three days.

My phone buzzed again.

Jaden: _I'm coming to find you, baby. I know you're at his place. Everyone knows._

I stared at the text, my hands shaking.

Everyone knows? What does that mean?

Before I could think, Maria, the housekeeper, came in, smiling warmly.

"Miss Aria? Mr. De Luca said to show you your closet. He bought many red dresses."

Many red dresses? This man was insane.

I had to get out of here.

But looking at the huge guards by the front door, and remembering Alessandro's low voice saying, "You are mine now," I knew one thing for sure.

One night was already turning into forever.