Mated To The Mafia Boss

Paint And Polish

Lyra’s POV

His voice sent a shiver down my spine. Very Deep. Controlled and somehow soothing.

Every syllable he uttered felt like it carried the weight of a thousand secrets. But I couldn’t let that get to me, not now. I had a job to do: infiltrate his empire from the inside while pretending to be nothing more than his secretary.

No fear. No hesitation. Just execution.

Damian turned his back to me again, facing the window, which was the the same position he was in when I first walked into his office. He did that deliberately. That was his signal to let me know that our conversation was over.

Dismissed.

I exhaled silently and pivoted on my heel, my face locked into a mask of calm. No tells. No cracks. Just steel. My hand wrapped around the cold steel knob, steady and precise. But just as I opened the door, I almost collided with someone.

The same woman from earlier. Black tailored suit, minimal makeup, and heels that glided silently across the marble floor. She stood tall and composed, every bit as unreadable as the man behind me.

Her smile was extremely professional and polished, even charming. But there was something beneath it. Something a little too sweet for a place like this. Like honey smeared over rusted blades.

“Miss Valtieri,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “Let me show you to your office.”

“Of course,” I replied, my tone light and pleasant. Play the part, Lyra. Stay soft on the surface, sharp underneath.

She turned and began walking. I followed, matching her pace perfectly.

The hallway surprised me. It was bright, alive with sleek glass walls, polished floors that shimmered under recessed lights, and expensive abstract art spaced out with surgical precision. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think I was walking through a trendy tech firm, not the headquarters of one of the most dangerous empires in Europe.

But that was the trick, wasn’t it?

Polish on the outside. Rot on the inside.

We passed a series of offices, all with frosted glass doors and silver nameplates. Yet she didn’t stop walking. Her heels clicked softly, rhythmically. Unbothered. Confident.

Why is my office so far from his? I muttered under my breath, barely audible.

No response. She either didn’t hear me… or she was trained not to react.

Then I felt something hit me.

A sharp, putrid stench slammed into my nose like a punch. I froze for half a second, struggling not to gag. The smell seeped from one of the closed doors we passed. It wasn’t just bad, it was extremely wrong. A mix of decay and something chemical. I don't know, I think it's synthetic.

I instinctively raised a hand to my nose, eyes watering slightly. It was foul. Like something dead… marinating in bleach.

And yet the woman ahead of me didn’t flinch. Didn’t even glance in that direction. She kept walking, graceful and unbothered.

She doesn’t smell that?

Or she’s used to it.

Both possibilities were unsettling.

I cast a quick look at the door as we passed, memorizing its number. I’d be back. Whatever was behind that door needed answers.

Finally, she stopped at the very end of the hallway, in front of a door slightly more secluded than the rest. She turned the knob and pushed it open.

The office inside was dark. and silent. She stepped in first and flicked on the lights.

Cool white light spilled over everything. The space was pristine. Too pristine. A modern desk sat in the center, accompanied by a high-backed leather chair angled slightly toward the large window. A shelf with untouched files. A potted plant standing guard by the glass. No dust and there was no clutter.

It didn’t feel lived in.

It felt… staged.

“Your office,” she said curtly, then turned and walked away.

Just like that.

I lingered by the doorway for a moment, taking it all in. The soft click of the door behind me was the only sound now.

I walked in, brushing my fingers along the desk’s glassy surface. It was cold and slick, as if it had never been used. The chair hugged my back too perfectly, as if someone had measured it just for me.

Every corner. Every angle. Too calculated.

I moved to the window and pulled the blinds.

Milan sprawled before me like a postcard, glittering buildings, tangled streets, rooftops kissed by sunlight.

“Nice view,” I whispered.

Then something caught my eye from afa. A flicker and a tiny metallic glint hidden near the plant. I stepped closer, narrowing my gaze.

There it was.

A listening device, it was placed behind a leaf which was almost invisible.

A bug.

Of course.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

Well played, Damian.

I leaned in, tilting my head at the tiny black dot.

Two can play this game. But only one wins.

I crossed my arms and stared down at it, offering a cold smile that I knew might be watched.

Let’s see how much you really hear.

I dropped into the chair and reached for my bag just as a sharp beep broke the silence.

It was my phone. I pulled it out and tapped the screen.

One new message.

“How are you settling in?”

“After work, come have dinner at my house. Your aunty is expecting you.”

Uncle.

My only real connection to a past life that was long gone. After my parents died, when they were murdered, not that anyone had the guts to call it that, he stepped in. He wasn’t blood. Just my father’s best friend. But he trained me. Raised me. Molded me into the woman I am now.

A ghost in high heels.

I opened my bag and pulled out a small, creased photograph. My parents smiled up at me from it. My mother’s soft eyes. My father’s strong jaw. Two people who never got the justice they deserved.

I swallowed hard.

“Daddy. Mummy,” I whispered, voice cracking, “we have another mission.”

A tear escaped before I could stop it, sliding down my cheek.

I quickly wiped it away. No room for weakness. Not here. Not now.

I glanced back at the bug near the plant and straightened.

“I’m still on the verge of discovering your murderer,” I murmured, keeping my voice low but firm. “And I will avenge your death.”

But let's finish this assignment.

Suddenly I heard a knock from the door jolted me away from what I was doing, I hurriedly put the photograph back in my bag.

The lady from earlier entered my office, her face still beaming with an unnecessary smile.

Why is she always smiling?

Well, It's a normal thing, but not in this type of black organization.

“You've been summoned by Mr.Damian.” She said as she turned her back.

“Why is he calling me?”

“What could he possibly want to know?” I murmured under my breath.

I cast one last glance at the bug before heading to the door.