THE MAFIA KING'S OBSESSION

Liana. 

The Wrong Door

Rain lashes against my windshield so hard I can barely see the road, I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as the wipers struggle to keep up with the downpour. 

Thunder rumbles somewhere overhead, shaking the air around me, and for the fifth time in ten minutes, I glance at the clock on my dashboard, 8:42 p.m. I’m late, like one hour late. 

“Come on, come on” I mutter, leaning forward as if that somehow helps the car move faster through traffic.

My phone buzzes through the car speakers and I hit accept.

“Please tell me you are not still driving,” Maya Bennett says.

I exhale sharply. “I’m still driving.”

Maya groans loud enough to make me wince.

“Liana! It’s almost nine. I thought this wedding delivery was supposed to be done hours ago.”

“It was,” I say dryly.

“So why are you still out?”

I glance at the backseat where dozens of white roses, orchids, and lilies are carefully arranged in floral boxes. The expensive flowers fill my car with a soft, sweet scent that feels completely at odds with the storm outside.

“Because Mr. Harrison forgot to mention the client changed the delivery time.”

“Of course he did.” she says

“And because,” I continue, “someone had to redo half the bridal bouquet after one of the assistants dropped it.”

Maya gasps. “Liana, no.”

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?”

I almost laugh at that comment, 

“No I did not.”

“You should have.”

Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips.

That’s Maya, she can make me laugh even when I’m exhausted and one unpaid bill away from a breakdown.

“You need to quit that job Babe,” she says.

“You say that every week.”

“Because I mean it every week.”

Quitting isn’t an option when rent is due, electricity is overdue, and your savings account is an insult.

One day I’ll open my own flower shop, a small one with warm lighting, fresh flowers every morning and maybe a tiny coffee corner, something cute, simple and beautiful.

But dreams don’t pay rent, Atleast not yet

“Okay,” Maya says, her voice softening. “Text me when you are done.”

“I will.”

“And Liana?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

I frown, “Why are you saying it like that?”

“I don’t know, bad weather, rich people, giant creepy mansions.” She pauses. “I watch too many crime documentaries.”

“I will survive.”

“You better.” 

The call ends and rain continues hammering the car. A few minutes later, my GPS announces: You have arrived.

I slow down and for a few seconds I just stare at the mansion in front of me, it doesn’t look real.

It rises behind massive iron gates like something torn out of a movie, stone walls, towering pillars, elegant architecture illuminated by warm golden lights. It illuminates luxury, power and money. 

The kind of wealth people like me only ever see from outside.

But what really catches my attention isn’t the mansion, It’s the cars, black SUVs, at least ten, maybe more. 

Every single one identical and parked with military precision.

A strange chill slides down my spine.

Security guards stand near the entrance.

I step out into the rain, immediately soaked from the knees down, and hurry to the backseat to retrieve the flower boxes.

The cold air bites my skin.

My shoes splash through puddles as I move toward the entrance.

One box and then another. A sharp click stops me cold and my body goes rigid as I slowly turn around to find three men standing there, all in black suits staring at me.

I force a polite smile.

“Hi, delivery for the wedding?”

No one answers and my heartbeat quickens. One of them steps forward.

He is tall with broad shoulders and a scar over one of his eyebrow. His gaze drops to my face.

Then he speaks into an earpiece, his voice low and urgent, but still terrifying. 

“She is here.”

The second man steps closer studying me before his expression changes

“Oh God.” I whisper as I grip the flower box harder.

“Excuse me?”

The first man speaks again, his voice tense now, “We found her.”

I take one step back, “Look, I think there is some misunderstanding” I start but the third man move fast, too fast and before I know it his hand clamps around my wrist and I gasp at the sudden rough movements

“Hey!” Panic explodes through me.

“Let go!” he yells as I try to yank back but he is too big and I have close to mass, he doesn’t budge.

The flower box slips from my fingers and the white roses scatter across the wet stone as the petals are drenched in rain.

“No!” I twist violently, “Let me go!”

My voice rises, it's louder and sharper now but no one helps or seems bothered by the fact that I was being dragged against my will.

The first man steps close enough for me to smell expensive cologne and gunpowder.

I try to scream again but this time a hand covers my mouth.

Terror slams into me so hard I nearly collapse, I bite the man's hand hard which makes his grip loosen.

“HELP!” The sound barely leaves me before strong arms pin me.

“I said let me go!” Tears blur my vision, “Please!”

The men exchange glances and then the first one says the words that make everything stop.

“The bride has been found.”

I freeze and suddenly the world goes silent

Even the rain feels far away. My breathing turns shallow.

“What?”

He stares directly into my eyes.

“You are the bride.”

My lips tremble as I try to form a sentence “I, I’m not a bride, I’m a florist,” I say, my voice shaking. “I am here to deliver flowers.”

No one responds, they all look at me like I am crazy, “You’ve made a mistake, this is a mistake” I whisper.

The man’s jaw tightens.

Then he says the words that shatter what little calm I have left.

“You are exactly who we were looking for.”

“No I am not, you have to believe me”

He gives an order. “Take her inside.”

Pure terror detonates inside me.

“No!” I fight harder, I kick so hard one man stumbles.

“Stop!” I scream until my throat burns, “I’m not your bride!”

They drag me forward anyway as rainwater soaks my dress. My shoes scrape stone and my heart feels like it might explode. The mansion doors swing open as warm golden light spills outward.

But there is nothing warm about what waits inside. I dig my heels into the ground.

“Please! Please listen to me!” Finally, he stops. For one insane second, hope surges. Maybe he will listen to me.

He turns and looks straight at me and says quietly

“The boss is waiting.” My stomach drops.

“Boss?”

“Cassian Moretti.”

I don’t know why but the second I hear that name, every man around me goes still. As if speaking it demands respect.

They drag me across the marble floor and toward a set of massive doors.

Every part of my body is screaming run but it's no use, this place had security everywhere, I would get nowhere.