Mated To The Mafia Assassin

Rain fell in sharp sheets over the quiet streets of Milan, where secrets hid beneath shadows and silence clung to every cobblestone. The night was unusually cold for April, and yet the chill that ran down Aria Moretti's spine had little to do with the weather.

She sat in the back of her father's black Rolls-Royce, her fingers clutched tightly around a velvet box. Inside it lay a diamond choker-nothing compared to the weight of the future it symbolized.

Tonight, she was being presented to the council of syndicate leaders-daughters were meant to be seen, polished, and used. Aria was no exception. She was the bloodline jewel of the Moretti Mafia-only daughter of Don Silvano Moretti, head of Italy's most ruthless family.

But none of them knew what she knew.

Aria had stumbled upon her father's secret just two nights ago: a sealed document buried beneath his office floorboards, detailing a contract-her contract. She wasn't just being introduced to the council tonight. She was being promised in marriage... to a ghost. A man known only by his codename: Viper.

She'd heard whispers of him. The Mafia's most feared assassin. No face. No name. Just death.

The car stopped.

"Miss Aria," said her father's driver, Enzo, stepping out into the rain. He opened her door, and the thunder rolled overhead like a war drum.

She stepped out, the crimson silk of her dress flowing like blood around her ankles. Her heels clicked across the marble steps of the old estate. Inside, the hall buzzed with the murmur of powerful men and the silent tension that followed them like a scent of danger.

Her father stood waiting, his face as unreadable as ever.

"You look beautiful," he said, taking her hand. His voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. "Smile."

She obeyed.

But as she smiled, her eyes scanned the room-and locked onto someone.

A man stood at the edge of the shadows near the ballroom archway, barely noticeable, clad in a fitted black suit. Not one of the regulars. Not a bodyguard. Not a guest. He held a glass of wine like it was a blade, and when he lifted his gaze to meet hers, it stole her breath.

Dark eyes. Cold, deep, lethal. Like he could see straight through the red satin and skin and down to her soul.

The orchestra started to play. Her father led her into the room like a trophy, but Aria could feel the man watching her. A silent pull, like gravity bending for something it shouldn't.

Hours passed.

Toasts were made. Hands were kissed. Smiles were faked. And yet her mind kept drifting back to the stranger. He hadn't moved. He hadn't mingled. He was a statue at the corner of her eye. And when she glanced at him again-he was gone.

That was when she felt it.

A hand around her wrist. Gentle, firm. Warm.

She turned.

It was him.

He didn't speak. Just nodded toward the balcony. Something in her bones whispered: go.

She followed him out, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor until the music was muffled by thick glass doors and only the wind and rain remained.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The man turned. His voice was low, silken and rough all at once. "Someone you're not supposed to meet until tomorrow."

She blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering, he stepped closer, and Aria's breath caught. His face was sculpted like something from a forgotten god's altar-sharp cheekbones, a hard jaw, a mouth made for lies or sin.

He reached into his coat. Instinctively, she flinched.

He paused. Smirked. And then pulled out a silver lighter, flicking it open and lighting a cigarette.

"My name's Dante," he said, eyes never leaving hers.

"You work for my father?"

"No. I work for myself."

"Then what are you doing here?"

He stepped in close. She didn't back away.

"I came to see if you were real," he said, voice low. "Turns out, you are."

Her heart pounded.

And then-he leaned down. Kissed her cheek. Light. Quick.

But when he pulled away, there was blood on his lips.

She touched her skin. A thin scratch. A single line of red.

"Did you-"

"Shh," he whispered, gaze fierce. "Someone marked you before I did. That blood isn't from me. It's a warning."

Suddenly, shouts erupted from inside the estate. A scream. The crash of glass.

Dante was instantly alert. "Stay here."

He pulled a gun from under his jacket and disappeared into the hall. Aria froze, staring down at the smear of blood on her fingertips.

It wasn't hers.

And that's when she saw it.

A mark scratched into the stone ledge beside her-jagged, deep, fresh.

†

A symbol. A cross. The mark of death in her father's circle.

She spun around to run-but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. A sharp jab hit her neck. The world blurred.

Before everything went black, she heard a voice whisper in her ear:

"Your father made a deal. Now you'll pay for it."

She woke up to the hum of tires and the smell of leather and gasoline.

Aria blinked. Her hands were tied. A black van. Her captors sat across from her, faceless behind ski masks. The one closest to her leaned forward.

"I didn't think we'd catch the princess so easily," he laughed.

Aria stayed calm, her mind racing. Who were they? A rival family? A betrayal from within?

"You'll fetch a pretty price," the man added. "Or maybe we just kill you to send a message."

The van swerved suddenly. Tires screamed. Gunfire exploded from outside. The van rocked.

One of the masked men screamed. Blood sprayed across the interior wall.

In a blink, the side door was ripped open-and standing there, drenched in rain, eyes cold with murder, was Dante.

He fired once. Twice. Silence.

Then he stepped in, cut her ropes, and pulled her into his arms.

"Let's go," he growled.

"But-how did you-?"

"I told you. You were mine to meet tomorrow. But now you're mine to protect tonight."

She stared up at him, heart thundering. "Who are you really?"

He met her gaze. "I'm Viper."

The assassin. The contract. Her supposed future.

"But I'm not here to marry you," he said darkly. "I'm here to kill your father."