Chapter 9 - Angela

I stood there in the bathroom, confused about why Marco had left so quickly, practically fleeing from me. One moment, the man seemed incapable of leaving me alone—I even thought he might stay while I showered. But the next minute, he ran out as if I were his worst enemy. What had gotten into him to leave like that?

My questions took a backseat when I turned and saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair, once perfectly styled, was now a mess, strewn in every direction. My dress was dirty and torn, my makeup completely ruined.

“How could he want to kiss me looking like this?” I muttered to myself in the mirror while pulling out the remaining hairpins.

I looked awful. How could a man like Marco be interested in me? He could only be interested in getting to my father or Filippo. That became clear during our conversation in the office. Marco knew he couldn’t simply take my father’s place by marrying me, and he also knew the alliance proposed to the ‘Ndrangheta wouldn’t work for him after kidnapping me.

That left two possibilities: he wanted to hurt Filippo or my father by marrying me. I couldn’t care less about the idiot I was given to in marriage—for all I cared, he and his entire family could die. But what would happen to my father did worry me—not for his sake, but for my mother and siblings. Their future depended on what happened after today. As much as I wanted to be free and make my own choices, I had to think about the others who would be affected by them.

I was taking off my dress when a knock at the door stopped me. I held the fabric against my body, covering myself in case Marco decided to barge in.

“Angela, it’s me,” a feminine voice called from the other side. Before I could respond, the door opened, and a woman peeked her head in. “My brother asked me to come help you.”

“Oh,” I replied, surprised, still thinking he was outside the room. “No need, I can shower on my own.”

“I think you might slip on this floor hopping on one foot,” Melissa said, already reaching for my dress to help me take it off. “My God, how do you manage to wear something like this? If I tried one of these, I’d probably die from lack of air.”

“It’s just a matter of getting used to it. You can go, I’m sure I can shower without falling,” I mumbled, wanting her to leave quickly. If she was shocked by the tight corset, I couldn’t imagine how she’d react to seeing the marks it left.

“If I leave, my brother might come in just to help you,” she said with a smile. I glanced at the door, wondering if he’d actually do that. “Kidding. He’s dealing with other matters now. But I think it’s better if I at least help you with this.”

“No need…” I tried to stop her, but it was too late. She had already pulled the lace, loosening some of the strings and exposing the marked skin.

Silence filled the bathroom as Melissa worked to untie all the straps, allowing me to breathe deeply for the first time since they put me in that thing. When the corset finally gave way, I wrapped my arms around my breasts and felt her fingers touch me gently, almost as if she were afraid of hurting me.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“My mother made me wear it since I was seventeen. My father wanted to make sure I wouldn’t gain weight, to keep a good appearance—thin waist, slim, all the care.” I turned to her after shedding the dress’s skirt. “You never wore one? Did your mother keep you in line with diets?”

Melissa frowned and quickly shook her head. She carefully wrapped an arm around my waist, helping me step into the shower.

“I didn’t grow up with my mother. She died when I was three, but I highly doubt anyone could make me wear something like that. It looks more like a torture device.” She positioned me under the showerhead and stepped back.

I turned on the water, smiling at her words. My life was entirely controlled—what I wore, what I could watch or read, my food, everything was according to my father’s wishes, even the people I could talk to. I couldn’t imagine being raised with as much freedom as she had.

“I think I understand now why they were saying you’re not a submissive mafia girl,” I murmured, recalling the words of her husband and brother.

“Submissive, me? Never! I understand the mafia hierarchy and respect it. For example, I know when I can tease my brother and when I need to respect the Capo of the Camorra.” She started chatting excitedly, unbothered by my nudity. “Like when I fell in love with Frank, he acted as my brother and didn’t try to stop me. He knew he’d taught me to choose someone who would honor not just the mafia.”

“It’s incredible that you managed to marry for love in the mafia, especially with your family being at such a high level.”

“But I’m not the only one. All the women in the Camorra do this—we choose our husbands. After all, we’re the ones who have to put up with them for the rest of our lives, and God knows sometimes I want to kill Frank in his sleep.”

She burst out laughing, shrugging, and drew a laugh from me. I’d never seen a woman say she wanted to kill her husband, though I knew most of them secretly wished it.

I took a quick shower and wrapped myself in the bathrobe Melissa handed me before letting her help me to the bed. I don’t know why, but I still thought I’d find Marco waiting outside the bathroom, maybe even sitting on my bed with that bored expression in his eyes.

But there was no sign of him. Everything was impeccably arranged, just as it was when we entered—the double bed made with light sheets, the curtains open to let in the light, but the balcony doors closed. The room was beautiful, like the rest of the house, decorated in a way that showed the mansion had been passed down through generations, even the good taste extending to the estate’s exterior.

“And your brother?” I asked as I settled into the bed, still unable to believe I was in this man’s house.

“Don’t worry, he’ll let you rest while he deals with some business.” Her words piqued my interest even more because, surely, Marco only had one business: the mafia.

“What kind of business? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

I knew that if I asked a question like that at home, my father would surely slap my face and yell at my mother about how she should teach me to know my place. But here, it was different. I didn’t have to follow the rules since I’d been kidnapped—or maybe I was just deluding myself and getting carried away by Melissa’s and her brother’s boldness.

“Trouble? Of course we’re in trouble, dear. My brother just kidnapped the daughter of the Don of the Cosa Nostra, killed several of your soldiers, and attacked the entire *Famiglia* by invading your wedding like that.” A knock sounded at the door, but it didn’t stop her from continuing. “Come in!” she shouted, and an older woman entered the room, carrying a tray and giving me a wide smile. “Not to mention those ‘Ndrangheta bastards, who’ll definitely want to get involved to clear their honor.”

“As if they had any honor,” the woman commented, and for a moment, I feared what might happen to her.

Servants weren’t supposed to talk like that, meddling in mafia business, especially around their bosses. But instead of reprimanding her, Melissa laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Those worms can’t even raise a decent heir!” Melissa exclaimed as the woman placed the tray beside me on the bed. “Giovanna, can you believe that idiot of a groom left her in the middle of the chaos, pushed and trampled by all the guests, while he ran to hide at the back of the church?”

Her words brought me back to the panic of the ceremony, the fear I felt that I’d die there, the way I resigned myself to that being my end—killed either by our enemies or by the people running around me.

But then it all dissolved the moment those strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me from the ground, carrying me out of the church and away from the chaos. I still didn’t know if I’d truly been saved or just thrown into an even worse future.

“I believe it. The ‘Ndrangheta men don’t know how to protect their women, and a man who doesn’t protect his woman…”

“Is a man without honor!” Melissa finished Giovanna’s sentence, as if it were a well-known mantra around here.

“Now let’s stop talking about this and let the girl eat in peace. We don’t want her getting indigestion thinking about them.” The woman leaned down, gave my face a friendly pat, and left the room.

I stared at the door, trying to understand what kind of mafia universe allowed servants to feel so comfortable. It felt like I was in a parallel world.

“Giovanna is like our grandmother. She helped take care of our mother and came to this house when she got married. She raised the three of us like we were her own after everything happened,” Melissa explained, probably noticing my confused expression. “Any trace of love and affection we have came from that woman. She didn’t let us lose our humanity, even with all the demons around us.”

“She seems like a good person,” I murmured, picking up the fork and taking a bite of the lasagna. “And an excellent cook.”

Melissa sat across from me with a wide smile and started chatting about shopping and clothes I should have in my wardrobe. All I could think about was the trouble they were trying to resolve downstairs.

I finished my meal and became Melissa’s doll as she insisted on brushing my hair. Then the door opened without warning.

“You never learned to knock, did you?” she retorted as her brother walked in, his eyes locking onto me.

“Last I checked, this house is still mine. I don’t need to knock on doors in my own home,” he shot back with a grimace, but it wasn’t out of irritation—it was more like a sibling tease.

“You need to knock when you have guests. Forgot your manners?”

“Angela isn’t a guest here.” I swallowed hard as his eyes burned into me, expecting him to say I was a prisoner. “She’ll soon be the mistress of all this. She’s just assessing the situation. Isn’t that right, little angel?”

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something witty, but he’d stolen all the words from me, turning my brain into a useless amoeba incapable of thought.

“Okay, then, I’ll leave the little angel and the big devil alone,” Melissa said, letting go of my hair. She handed the brush to her brother as she passed him. “I know when I’m the third wheel. See you later, dear.”

Marco looked at me for a long moment. I was still wearing just the fluffy bathrobe with nothing underneath. It was inappropriate for us to be alone like this. But what had been appropriate since we met?

“I hope my sister didn’t bore you too much, but I had to take care of some things,” he said first, taking a few steps toward me. He walked around the bed, positioning himself behind me.

I felt the mattress dip under his weight as he climbed onto the bed. I held my breath as his fingers ran through my wet hair. His firm touch separated a strand, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when his fingertips brushed the back of my neck.

He ran the brush through my hair with extreme care not to snag or pull. When he finished with that section, he draped it over my shoulder, his fingers trailing down to the ends, dangerously close to my breast.

“Tell me what’s going on,” I said, my voice shaky and filled with a courage I didn’t know I had.

“What?”

“You say I’ll be able to rule by your side if I agree to marry you. So I think I deserve to know what’s happening, what problems you’ll face after what you did today.”