A Deal With The Italian Mafia

"I shouldn't have agreed to go with Lina to the party. That damn Lina-running off with a guy and leaving me to go home alone this late."

My heartbeat quickened. The thought pounded in my head as I walked briskly, each step faster than the last. The empty streets stretched ahead of me, dim and eerie, shadows flickering under the flickering streetlights. I needed to get home. I needed to feel safe again.

Every window I passed looked dark and hollow, like eyes watching from the void. My reflection flitted alongside me in the glass-distorted, ghostlike. I didn't like the way it looked. I didn't like the way I looked-frightened, alone, exposed.

My footsteps echoed in the emptiness, each sharp sound bouncing off the walls and sending a shiver down my spine. The air felt heavier than it had earlier, thick with something I couldn't name, pressing against my chest like an invisible weight I couldn't shake off.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The sudden buzz shattered the silence, a spike of fear jolting through me like an electric shock.

I jumped, pulse racing, and yanked it out, hoping-praying-it was Lina, finally checking in after ditching me. But the screen made my stomach drop: Unknown Caller.

The hairs on my neck rose. No one ever called me this late. Not unless something was wrong. My fingers tightened around the phone, thumb hesitating over the answer button. It had to be Lina... right?

My breathing turned shallow, and my feet slowed. Then, before I could change my mind, I pressed "Answer" and brought the phone to my ear. My breath came out unsteady.

"Hello? Lina, is that you?" My voice wavered despite my best effort to keep it steady. No answer.

My heart slammed against my ribs. The quiet on the other end wasn't just empty-it was suffocating, like a void swallowing all sound.

"Hello?" I tried again, sharper this time, forcing the word out. I heard a breath-slow, deliberate, almost... measured. Then, a voice.

"Emilia."

The world stopped.

I forgot how to breathe.

My grip on the phone tightened, my knuckles aching. That voice. I knew that voice.

I had spent years searching for it. Hearing it in my dreams. Chasing it in my nightmares.

"Papà?" The word barely made it past my lips, strangled and trembling. A sharp click. The line went dead.

I stood frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear, my breath trapped in my throat. As if keeping it there might somehow hold on to him, might keep the connection open. But he was gone.

The street stretched before me, empty, yet suddenly too vast, too quiet. It was like the air had turned hostile.

How could it be him? My father had vanished five years ago-without a single trace. The police gave up. Everyone gave up. But not me.

Every birthday, every holiday, I kept waiting for a call, a letter-anything. I used to imagine him somewhere out there, alive. Maybe he had amnesia. Maybe he was being kept from us. Maybe he wanted to come back but couldn't.

But now, he had come back. In a whisper. In the dead of night.

The wind wasn't just cold anymore-it cut through me, slicing like a blade, like a warning. No. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

For five years, I had searched for him. Five years of dialing disconnected numbers, chasing shadows, finding nothing but silence.

And now, after all this time, he calls, says my name, then ends the call. A pit formed in my stomach, dread clawing at my insides.

I redialed, my breath caught in my throat.

But it went straight to voicemail, just like always.

I exhaled shakily. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was a cruel trick my mind played on me after too many sleepless nights. A hallucination brought on by fear and loneliness.

But deep down, I knew the truth. I would never mistake that voice.

A chill settled in my bones, slow and creeping, as if something unseen had just shifted the course of my life in a way I couldn't take back.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the figure creeping closer behind me until it was too late.

A gust of wind swept through the street, but the shiver down my spine wasn't from the cold. It was the footsteps.

I felt them more than I heard them-a presence closing in behind me, echoing my every move.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. My breath turned shallow again. I quickened my pace. But the moment my steps grew faster, so did his. He was matching me, step for step. I didn't dare look back.

My dorm wasn't far. If I could just reach it...

A flicker of movement in a shop window caught my eye-it was the shadow of a man.

The dim street lights carved him out of the night-a tall figure standing unnaturally still. Watching. Waiting. Like a predator eyeing a prey.

Fear shot through my veins. My stomach knotted so tightly it hurt.

I turned to run, but it was too late. A hand clamped over my mouth, swallowing my scream. I twisted, kicked, clawed-but he didn't budge.

A solid arm yanked me back against a body cold as ice. Before I could even scream in my mind, I felt it-a sharp sting was felt at my neck.

Something pulsed into me. A hot, burning flood of fire through my veins, robbing me of strength with terrifying speed.

My vision blurred. My body swayed. My legs gave out. My mind screamed at me to fight, but I couldn't. My muscles went limp. My phone slipped from my fingers, falling to the pavement with a dull thud.

The world tilted around me. Colors melted into darkness. I reached for something-anything-to hold onto. The sound of my name, my father's voice, the cold reality of what had just happened.

But all I found was silence.

Darkness lunged forward, swallowing me whole.

A pounding headache greeted me as I stirred, groaning.

"Ughhh, my head hurts."

I tried to sit up-BAM!

"Ow! What the hell?" I clutched my forehead, blinking through the pain.

The space was cramped, cold, and smelled like metal. My fingers brushed against-bars?

Wait. Bars?!

Panic surged through me as I scrambled back, but there was barely room to move.

Oh my God. I was in a freaking dog cage.

My breath came in fast, uneven bursts as I gripped the bars and shook them.

They didn't budge. I was damn trapped.

I tried to think. The phone call. My father's voice. Footsteps. A hand over my mouth.

The needle.

Oh shit. I was kidnapped.

"Is anyone there? Let me out! Someone help!" My voice echoed, growing hoarse.

"HELLO-?"

The door creaked open and I froze.

A figure stepped into the dim room, moving with slow, deliberate strides. I couldn't see his face, but his presence sucked the air from the room.

He took another step forward-and my brain short-circuited.

Damn, he was hot.

Not just hot-dangerous, untouchable, ruin-your-life-and-you'd-thank-him-for-it kind of hot.

My stomach flipped and just as fast reality crashed back.

Because this wasn't just any man.

This was Alessino De Luca. Mafia king. The Executioner. The "handsome walking devil" every girl at my university whispered about.

His cold gaze pinned me in place.

"Where is your father?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

His stare sharpened. My body tensed.

I hadn't seen my father in five years-until that call last night. And now I was in a cage because of him.

Unbelievable.

"I... I don't know," I said quickly. "The call barely lasted a minute. I swear!"

He didn't speak. But the air got darker. He didn't believe me.

Then he pulled out a gun and pointed it at my head.

"Will you talk now," he mused, "or should I mistakenly pull the trigger?"

Oh, hell no.

"Wait! Please! I'm telling the truth!"

Silence. I scrambled for anything to make him believe me.

"I swear on my life-if I'm lying, let lightning strike me right now."

A deafening crack of thunder shook the walls. I nearly jumped out of my skin and

Alessino raised an eyebrow.

"...Okay, that was awful timing," I laughed nervously. "But look! Still alive. No lightning. I'm telling the truth!"

He lowered the gun, then raised it again.

"Since you don't know where he is, you're of no use to me," he said smoothly. "Might as well end you now."

What?

I gaped at him. Was he seriously about to kill me?

So I did the only thing I could-I dropped to my knees dramatically.

I dropped to my knees, hands clasped.

"Oh great, powerful, handsome master, please don't kill me! I'm too young to die! I haven't even finished Netflix with my friend!"

He blinked. Unimpressed.

Okay that didn't work so I switched tactics.

"Seriously, keeping me alive is smarter. If my father reached out once, he might do it again. I have a better chance at finding him than you do."

That got me a flicker of hesitation.

"If you give me time, I'll find a way to lure him out."

He paused. Then smirked.

"If you could do that, why haven't you searched for him in five years?"

Ouch.

"Because I had no resources. But with you..."

Silence. Then finally, he sighed.

"You have until tomorrow."

He turned and walked out.

I collapsed back, breath ragged.

"Damn. That was close."

---

The door creaked again. A guard stepped in, stone-faced, and opened the cage.

I scrambled to my feet and followed him through a long hallway. When he stopped abruptly, I crashed into his back.

"Damn, are you made of bricks?"

He gave me a deadpan look. "Get inside."

The room was gorgeous. Expensive. Magazine-cover level. I opened the closet and gasped-rows of stunning designer dresses.

"Well... she won't mind if I borrow one, right?"

First, though, I needed a bath.

Warm water washed away the grime, the fear, and last night's chaos. For a moment, I let myself pretend I wasn't trapped in a mafia mansion.

I stepped out in a towel, feeling a little more human-until I saw him.

Alessino.

Sitting on the couch like he owned the place-which he did.

Legs crossed. Eyes locked on me.

I froze. "Is there... something you need, Minister?"

His gaze flicked over me, brief but enough to make me feel exposed.

"Don't get too comfortable. You have until tomorrow morning to give me a solution."

Then he left. Door clicking shut behind him.

I glared after him. "What a jerk."

Yanking out a dress, I muttered, "Why is he so cold? And why does he have to be so stupidly handsome?"

I shook my head. "No. He's ugly. Ugly and evil. A walking ice block."

I flopped onto the bed, stomach rumbling.

A knock.

A maid entered with a silver tray. Steak. Pasta. Bread.

Real food. I nearly wept.

I devoured it, then curled up on the bed, eyes heavy. Just a short nap.

---

I awoke to a shift in the air.

I turned-and nearly screamed.

Alessino sat in the same chair. Watching me.

I bolted upright.

"Are you trying to kill me?! Who sits in the dark watching people sleep?! That's serial killer behavior!"

He said nothing.

"Do you have a plan yet?" he asked, calm as ever.

I groaned. "You said tomorrow morning!"

His stare said: I don't care.

"Fine. I'll have something."

Still silent, he stood and left-but not before glancing back.

"You know what happens if you don't."

The door closed.

I screamed into my pillow. "God, I hate him!"

How was I supposed to come up with a plan?

All night, I tossed and turned. Until dawn.

Then-I had it.

A bold, reckless, absolutely insane idea. But it was the only one I had.

So when Alessino walked in the next morning, cold stare in place, I met his eyes with messy hair and zero sleep.

And said:

"Let's get married."

He didn't say anything for a while, just stared at me like I had completely lost my mind. Honestly? I was starting to think I had. I mean, how could I possibly propose marriage to the man who kidnapped me-the same man who wanted to use me as bait to capture my own father.

Alessino finally spoke, his voice dangerously calm. "And what made you come up with this suggestion?"

His cold eyes never wavered as he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a gun.

Damn. He wasn't playing.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Well," I started nervously, "seeing as my options are either help you or die horribly in some unmarked grave, I'd say a fake wedding sounds like the lesser evil."

I forced out a shaky laugh, gripping the fabric of my dress as if that could somehow help me.

Alessino raised an eyebrow, watching me like he was considering whether or not to pull the trigger. Seeing this I quickly continued.

"If we make the wedding public-extravagant, with the media covering every detail-my father will see it. He'll believe I'm safe now, under your protection, and that you're no longer hunting him. He won't be able to resist coming out of hiding, and that when we swoop in to catch him."

Alessino leaned back, his expression unreadable. "You think he'll really take the bait?"

"I know he will." My voice wavered slightly, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. "He's spent years watching over me from the shadows, even though I never really see him. so if he sees me marrying into your family, he'll think the danger is gone." okay well the watching me from the shadow part was a lie but he doesn't need to know that.

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Alessino's lips. "Then let's give him a wedding he won't be able to ignore."

I exhaled in relief as he tucked the gun away, it was time to put in my request but I wasn't stupid-I treaded carefully before adding, "I have two conditions. No, I mean two favors to ask for."

His smirk faded. "Go on."

I hesitated, then forced a nervous laugh. "First, I need to know why my father is being hunted. And second... if we do capture him, I want to speak with him. At least once."

Alessino was silent for a moment, then finally gave a single nod.

He leaned back in his chair, shadows carving sharp lines across his face. "I wasn't there," he admitted, voice devoid of emotion. "I was out, clubbing with my friends. And then when I came home..."

He let the silence stretch, his eyes locking onto mine.

"The gates were open. That never happened. My father was paranoid about security. But that night... There were no guards, no alarms. Just the front door hanging off its hinges." His jaw clenched, his breath steady but forced. "The house reeked of gunpowder. Blood smeared the floors. And my parents, lying dead on the floor...." His voice rose at the last part, his expression dark like he was ready to murder someone. For a split second, I thought he might actually pull the trigger.

My breath hitched, too afraid to move, too afraid to hear the rest.

He slammed his fist down on the table, the sound slicing through the heavy silence. "Your father was the only one missing." His voice was razor-sharp. "The man my father trusted more than anyone. He knew everything-our security codes, our business, our alliances, every single thing."

His eyes darkened, something colder taking over his expression. "I thought no one had survived. But I was wrong."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Marco, one of my father's best men, was barely clinging to life. I found him in the study, drowning in his own blood. He was badly injured. I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he grabbed my arm-held on like he had minutes left. And he did."

Alessino exhaled sharply, as if he could still feel the grip of a dying man on his skin. "He coughed up blood, tried to speak... and when he finally did, he said three words." His gaze burned into mine.

"Antonio betrayed us."

My head shook in silent denial, my hands trembling in my lap. "No... that's not possible."

Alessino's smirk was cold, hollow. "He didn't get to say much else. He bled out before I could ask him why." He leaned back, eyes unblinking. "But I didn't need an explanation. My parents were dead. Your father was gone. And the only witness who could've told me everything died."

He paused, his voice dropping lower, colder. "Because of him, I had to become a man overnight. At sixteen, I wasn't mourning-I was rebuilding. I will find him. And when I do, he'll suffer ten times the pain my parents did."

I didn't say anything. Just sat there, frozen, my mind trying to process what I'd just heard.

No wonder he was so determined to find my father. No wonder he was as cold as ice.

But no matter what he said, I couldn't believe him fully-not until I heard my dad's side of the story.

He was my father, after all. While Alessino was just a stranger.

So why did my heart ache for him?

I swallowed hard. "Don't worry, I'll do my best to help you catch my dad." My voice came out quieter than I intended.

Alessino didn't respond. He simply got up.

"Get ready. We will get married tomorrow. The makeup artist and designer will be here soon to get your measurements and discuss things for the ceremony."

I gawked at him. "What?! Tomorrow?!"

He didn't even look back as he left, his footsteps fading down the hall.

I stared at the closed door, my mind going blank.

Damn I was really marrying my kidnapper..

But that didn't mean I had to play by his rules.