LOGINThe Romano estate was quiet again that night, but Mia could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. The corridors, normally elegant and orderly, felt like a labyrinth designed to trap her. Every polished surface reflected her conflicted expression, every flickering candle seemed to whisper that she had no escape.
And then, in the shadowed corner of the library, she saw him. Ethan. “Ethan…” Her voice was a mixture of relief and apprehension. She had hoped for news from him, maybe even an explanation for the message he had left earlier. But now, standing so close, so unexpectedly, the calm she had been clinging to began to fracture. “You need to come with me,” he said immediately, his voice urgent, almost desperate. His dark eyes blazed as he stepped toward her. “Right now, Mia. Pack your things. Run. We can’t stay here a minute longer.” Mia’s stomach churned, a mix of fear and frustration twisting inside her. “Run? Ethan… you know what’s at stake. My father—he’s not just any man. And Mark…” Her voice faltered as she spoke the name. She hadn’t realized until now how heavy it was on her tongue. “…he’s here. He’ll… he’ll come after us.” Ethan’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t care. I don’t care about him. I don’t care about your father. I only care about you. They can’t control you, Mia. Not if we run. Not if we leave tonight.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage, but the rational part of her mind refused to yield. “You don’t understand, Ethan. I can’t just… walk away. I’m married. And even if I wasn’t… you don’t know what this world is like. My father, Mark—this isn’t just about marriage. This is the mafia. This is life and death.” Ethan’s jaw tightened, frustration flashing in his eyes. “Life and death? You’re more likely to die trapped here under your father’s thumb than if you come with me. I can keep you safe.” Mia shook her head vehemently, her hands trembling. “I can’t just abandon my life like that! I… I can’t be reckless. I can’t throw myself into danger blindly. You don’t understand what it means to be a Romano—what it means to live under this… this shadow. Running isn’t safe. It’s stupid. And I… I can’t leave Mark. Not completely. He… he…” She froze, realizing what she almost admitted. Mark. His name, unbidden, had slipped out of her mouth. Ethan’s gaze sharpened, darkening with jealousy and rage. “Mark?!” Ethan’s voice rose, anger and disbelief mixing together. “Are you serious? You’re worried about him? After everything I’ve done for you? After everything we’ve shared?” Mia took a step back, her eyes flashing. “Don’t twist my words! I didn’t… I didn’t say I care about him! I just… I’m aware of the danger! You don’t understand what you’re asking!” Ethan’s expression softened slightly, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t fade. “I understand more than you think. But Mia… don’t let your fear keep you from the one chance we have to escape this.” Fear. That word settled over her like a cold wave. He had no idea what the danger truly meant—not Mark, not her father, not the mafia. She had seen what her father could do to those who crossed him, and she had witnessed the ruthless efficiency of Mark’s protection. To flee blindly into the night with Ethan would be nothing short of suicidal. “I can’t, Ethan. I… I can’t run with you. I won’t,” she said finally, voice trembling. Ethan’s fists tightened at his sides. “You’re insane. Do you have any idea what this means? This is your life, Mia! You could be free!” “And what about the consequences?!” Mia snapped back, her anger flaring. “You think we can just disappear, and my father won’t hunt us down? That the people who owe him loyalty won’t come for me? That Mark won’t find me?” Ethan’s jaw tightened, but his voice softened. “Let him try. Let anyone try. I’ll fight them all. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Mia. I swear it.” Her chest tightened, torn between his passion and her rational fear. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to run. But deep down, she knew she couldn’t. Not tonight. Not yet. Not when the stakes were life and death, and not when Mark—whether she liked it or not—was here, always watching, always protecting. “I… I can’t, Ethan. I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words almost a sob. Ethan’s face twisted in frustration and pain. He took a step closer, lowering his voice, almost pleading. “You don’t understand what it’s like to watch someone you love being trapped. You don’t understand what it’s like to feel powerless while your life is being dictated by someone else!” “I do understand!” she shot back, voice shaking. “I live it every day! But running isn’t a solution. It’s a gamble, and we both know it could be fatal. I… I have to stay. At least for now.” Ethan’s hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders stiff with tension. He stared at her, eyes burning with a mix of fury, hurt, and desperation. “You’re choosing him,” he said softly, almost accusingly, “over me. Over everything we could have had.” “No!” she cried, stepping back. “Don’t you dare—don’t make this about him! I… I’m not choosing anyone over you! I’m choosing survival. I’m choosing not to throw my life away recklessly!” The two of them stood there, the room heavy with silence. The tension was almost tangible, crackling like electricity between them. Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line. His dark eyes lingered on her, filled with a storm of emotions she couldn’t name. Finally, he turned abruptly, his movements sharp and tense. “I won’t give up on you, Mia. No matter what.” Mia’s heart clenched, torn between relief and frustration. “Then… then don’t expect me to run. Not tonight. Not like this.” Ethan paused at the door, his hand on the knob. He looked back at her, eyes softening just slightly. “Fine. But you don’t forget this, Mia. You don’t forget that I’m here. And I’ll wait as long as it takes.” With that, he left, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall. Mia slumped against the wall, trembling. Part of her wanted to chase after him, to throw herself into his arms and let him carry her away. Another part of her—darker, more cautious—knew the danger was too real. And somewhere, deep beneath her anger and fear, a small, unwelcome thought lingered: Mark… he’s always here. Always watching. Always protecting. And I… can’t ignore that either. The realization made her chest tighten. She hated that thought almost as much as she hated Ethan’s insistence. She hated the pull between the two men, between safety and desire, between loyalty and fear. For now, she was trapped. Between her father’s expectations, Ethan’s desperation, and Mark’s silent, unyielding presence. And as the night deepened and the mansion fell into silence, Mia realized one thing with terrifying clarity: her life had changed forever, and there was no turning back.The ballroom glows with golden chandeliers and the soft hum of dangerous men discussing business under the guise of elegance. Mia Romano hates every inch of it—the masks, the false smiles, the way every pair of eyes watches her as if she’s an object Mark has placed on display.She stands at the edge of the crowd, hands clasped, jaw tight.She can feel Mark’s presence without even looking. It’s like his gravity pulls at her skin—steady, calm, infuriating.Then the music slows.A luxurious waltz begins.A murmur ripples through the room.And Mark steps forward.“No,” Mia whispers immediately, backing away. “Absolutely not.”He extends a hand. “It’s required, tesoro. Appearances.”“I’d rather choke.”His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a faint flicker in his eyes—something too close to amusement. “You can choke later. For now, dance.”Before she can argue, his hand wraps around her waist and pulls her into the center of the ballroom.Gasps echo. Heads turn.The mafia heirs watch w
The mansion was quiet the next morning, unusually quiet—like the whole world was holding its breath after the explosion between Mia and Mark last night.Mia barely slept.Her mind kept replaying his words, his voice, his eyes burning with something she didn’t want to understand.“The thought of anyone else touching you makes me—”“It felt like someone gut-punched me.”“I can’t stand anyone else’s hands on you.”No.No.No.She refused to believe any of it.She refused to feel the way her chest tightened when she remembered it.Mia needed space.Air.Anything to drown out the sound of her own heartbeat.She left her room quietly, stepping into the hallway. It was early—sun barely rising, half the guards still switching shifts. Her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way downstairs.She wasn’t looking for trouble.It found her anyway.Voices carried from the private training courtyard—low, hushed, serious. Mia froze, recognizing one instantly.Mark.Her pulse stumbled. She should wa
The moment the car doors closed outside the mansion, silence flooded the back seat.Thick.Heavy.Explosive.Mark sat beside Mia, his jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed along his neck.Mia stared out the window, hands trembling in her lap.But it wasn’t embarrassment trembling through her.It wasn’t fear.It was rage.Burning, humiliating, suffocating rage.The second the chauffeur opened the door, Mia shot out of the car and stormed toward the mansion.“Mia—” Mark moved after her.“No.”She didn’t even look back. “Not a word.”She pushed through the front doors, heels echoing against the marble, fury vibrating through every step. Mark was right behind her.He reached for her wrist.Big mistake.Mia whipped around so fast his hand froze inches from her skin.“Don’t you touch me,” she hissed.Mark’s chest rose sharply. “I was trying—”“You don’t get to touch me,” she snapped, voice cracking. “Not tonight. Not after this.”Mark’s eyes darkened. “You’re overreacting.”“Overreacting?”
The Romano mansion buzzed with preparation—staff rushing, guards assembling, cars lining the driveway. A formal gathering of families.A power display.A night where everyone watched everyone.And Mia had no choice but to attend.She stood in front of her mirror while a stylist adjusted the straps of her black silk dress, the one Don Romano insisted she wear.“You must look united,” he had said. “A strong front.”United.With the man she still swore she hated.Her stomach twisted.A knock sounded at the door.“Mia.”Mark’s voice. Low. Controlled. Too steady.The stylist barely had time to open the door.Mark stepped inside—dressed in a sleek black suit, tie loosened, hair brushed back in a way that made her heart stutter before she could stop it.He looked devastating.And he looked at her like he couldn’t breathe for a moment.“You… look beautiful,” he said quietly.Mia turned away. “Save it. We’re doing this because we have to.”Mark nodded once, accepting the coldness.But his eyes
Morning sunlight crept through Mia’s curtains, but it brought no warmth.Her body felt heavy, her mind foggy, memories of last night replaying in broken flashes—the attack,the fear,Mark’s voice saying he wouldn’t survive losing her,and the sliver of warm hallway light she’d kept on purpose.When she finally gathered enough courage to leave her room, Mark was still there.Standing, alert, arms crossed, gaze fixed on her door like nothing else existed.He didn’t smile.He didn’t speak.But his eyes softened—barely—when they met hers.Mia’s heart betrayed her with a quiet flutter.“Good morning,” she said stiffly.“Are you okay?” he asked softly, scanning her face.Before she could answer, another voice cut across the hallway.“Mia.”Ethan.He stood at the far end of the corridor, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.The second he saw Mark near her door, his expression snapped into pure fury.“Oh. Of course,” Ethan spat. “I should’ve known.”Mia exhaled sharply. “Not now, Ethan.”“No, now is
The mansion exploded into chaos the moment the guards dragged the bodies of the attackers inside the gates. Shouts filled the night, flashlights flickered across the lawn, security scrambled everywhere.But Mia couldn’t move.Her body felt disconnected from reality, her breath shallow, her vision blurry.A warm hand gripped her elbow.Strong. Steady.Mark.“Come inside,” he ordered softly.“I can walk,” Mia snapped, even as her knees wobbled.Mark’s expression tightened. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m saying you’re in shock.”She wanted to fire back, but the world suddenly tilted, and his arm shot around her waist, holding her firmly before she could fall.She froze—heat, strength, the scent of him—too close, too steady.His eyes searched her face. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”Her heart thrummed painfully.She hated how safe he made her feel.She hated it.Don’t let this get to you, Mia. Don’t.She pulled away abruptly. “Just take me inside.”He nodded once, jaw tight, and guided her t





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