Chapter 3 3

"It's Ghost"

"Giuseppe ....Giordano"

"I've heard he shows no remorse for anything he does."

Whispers of Ghost Giordano's reputation as ruthless and unrelenting echoed through the room, a murmur that seemed to reach every corner. These words carried weight, painting a chilling portrait of the man I was to be married to against my will.

As I observed the room, a group of guards entered, and amidst them emerged the enigmatic figure himself, Ghost Giordano. He was the man my father had arranged for me to marry. His presence sent a shiver through the gathering, and his footsteps resonated with a foreboding cadence. A deep sense of apprehension coursed through me as I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, my curiosity and unease battling for dominance.

Soon, I had my first clear view of his face, and I couldn't deny that he possessed a striking handsomeness that bordered on perfection. There wasn't a single blemish to be found on his face. It was disheartening to think that such an attractive exterior could be tainted by his reputation as a murderer. My gaze trailed to a tattoo on the side of his neck-an intricately detailed skull and crossbones, the emblem of his mafia. His magnetic allure was nothing short of intimidating, and I couldn't help but wonder how the other men in the room felt about his imposing presence.

Ghost moved through the crowd with a measured pace, casting a spell over the women, who seemed to be practically spellbound by his mere presence. But then his gaze fell upon me. He halted in his tracks, swivelling to face me, standing just a few feet away. His intense scrutiny locked onto me, refusing to break eye contact. He examined me from head to toe before acknowledging my father's presence.

My father wasted no time, briskly advancing towards Ghost, his approach so swift that it allowed the enigmatic man little room to breathe.

"Mr. Giordano, it's nice to see you again," my dad blurted out, reminding him that they had met. I had never witnessed my father being so unprofessional; I could see him trying to bury his fear.

Yes, and your daughter; what is her name?" Ghost uttered it urgently, not paying the slightest bit of attention to my father.

Daughter!" my dad shouted at me.

Miles wished me luck before I strolled reluctantly towards my father. My other brothers couldn't even watch. Daemon was facing the window. I don't blame them. Watching your sibling be given away-who would want to watch that?

I saw a smirk appear on Ghost's face as I approached them.

Father," I nodded obediently.

"This is Ghost, Giuseppe Giordano," my father introduced him proudly. He seemed more proud of Ghost than any of his own sons. "Ghost, this is my daughter."

Ghost's attention turned to my father.

"So she doesn't have a name?" Ghost questioned my father with a hint of anger in his tone.

"She does, not that she deserves it." My father laughed, expecting him to chuckle along, but Ghost's facial expression seemed unamused.

"What is your name?" Ghost raised his eyebrow at me. "I'm Danni Lopez," I said confidently in a polite tone. Ghost held out his hand, and I flinched slightly. He frowned and raised his eyebrows in confusion before I shook off my momentary weakness and continued to shake his hand.

"I assume this is who I'm marrying?" The ghost announced it to my father.

"Yes, you will be marrying Danni," my father said, nodding, confirming Ghost's thoughts.

"Okay, we're leaving now," Ghost demanded as he wrapped an arm around my waist, forcing me to walk with him.

"Can I say goodbye to my brothers?" I pleaded with Ghost as I glanced back, every single one of my brothers in shock.

"No, you can't." Ghost continued to walk, forcing me to walk with him. Ghost opened the limo door, and I climbed in, pure and simple, because I didn't have a choice.

Yes, Ghost was incredibly handsome, but he had a cold vibe. He looked quite young-definitely not as old as I had previously imagined him to be.

Ghost sat next to me in the limo. The silence was deafening. I didn't want to speak or look at Ghost. I knew that if I had made a big deal, he probably would've punished me like my father.

"Hugo will have your room ready when we get back to the house," Ghost's deep, husky voice said.

I nodded in response.

"I'd prefer a thank you," Ghost hissed at me, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you," I mumbled, not feeling thankful.

It was all rather perplexing. Typically, galas like this one are primarily convened for business purposes and to forge strategic alliances. So, it struck me as odd that Ghost didn't seem interested in aligning with influential individuals or groups. But then again, I chided myself for possibly posing a naive question. After all, Ghost was at the helm of the world's most formidable Mafia, and the notion of him needing allies seemed almost laughable. It was clear that in this scenario, allies would be the ones seeking him, not the other way around.

Our journey in the limo concluded at Ghost's opulent mansion. As we arrived, a small and frail woman extended a warm welcome to Ghost at the entrance.

"Ghost, you're back," she greeted him cheerfully.

"Mamá, I told you to get some rest," I overheard Ghost say, his tone laden with concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather. Now, who do we have here?" His mother inquired eagerly.

Ghost opened the car door for me, and I gracefully stepped out. "Hello," I smiled politely, extending my hand for her to shake.

"Ah, she's lovely!" his mother exclaimed, pulling me into her embrace.

"Where's father?" Ghost questioned his mother, a word that made me involuntarily tense.

"He's in his office," she responded dismissively, her eyes rolling with clear disapproval.

"Of course," Ghost grumbled, his annoyance evident as he rolled his eyes in exasperation.

His mother then offered to show me to my room, her delight evident in her beaming expression.

Ghost was undoubtedly a striking figure. His light brown hair fell at just the right length, framing bright blue eyes and complementing his tanned skin. His left arm was adorned with an array of tattoos, and his muscular physique was unmistakable. Yet, despite his outward appeal, there was something strangely vacant about him. It was as if he lacked personality, as if he were a mere automaton.

The ghost confidently strode into the mansion and ascended the grand staircase. His mother led me to the designated room, shedding some light on the arrangements along the way.

"The clothing and furnishings in this room were chosen by Ghost himself, which is quite unusual, I must admit," she explained as we entered.

The room itself was a captivating blend of darkness and cosiness, evoking a unique sense of charm.

"Your wardrobe is right here in this closet, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask Ghost," his mother warmly offered, her finger pointing towards the wardrobe.

"Thank you," I replied with a nod, feeling uncertain about the whole situation.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to introduce myself; my name is Susan," she chuckled, shaking her head at her own forgetfulness.

"Dinner will be served shortly, dear," Susan informed me before departing.

Deciding to change out of my dress, which was both uncomfortable and ostentatious, I began to ponder the peculiar circumstances that had brought me to this mansion.