The Mafia' s Bride

Yasmine’s POV I hum softly, hair tied in a loose bun with stray strands framing my face. With one last stroke, I step back from the canvas. The Wildflower Collection. The painting glows with freedom and wild beauty. My chest swells with pride. Weeks of sleepless nights, coffee-fueled mornings, and aching fingers and finally, it’s done. I peel off my apron, stained with splashes of color, and hang it on the rack. In the restroom, I let my hair tumble loose, long waves falling down my back. A swipe of peach lipstick, moisturizer on my hands, and I look a little less like a sleep-deprived artist and more like a woman who deserves to breathe again. Tonight, I’ll surprise Nathan. Two weeks apart is long enough. Grabbing my tote, I lock up the studio and step into the vibrant hum of New York. My phone buzzes as I dial Matthew my best friend, my agent, the shameless CEO of Bohemian Galleries. “Yasmine, my girl!” his cheerful voice booms. I chuckle. “Hey, Matt. Just wanted to tell you

Yasmine’s POV It’s an early Friday morning, and I decide to stay in. The apartment is quiet except for the sound of Matt moving around in his room, getting ready for work. Mark had left before sunrise, off to another audition, he’s chasing a spot in one of the biggest rock bands in the state. I finish setting the breakfast table just as Matt emerges in a sleek Armani suit. “Wow, Yaz, you didn’t have to do this,” he says, surprised. I smile softly. “I wanted to. Besides, it’s nothing much.” The plates are filled with a full English breakfast eggs, sausages, beans, toast. My comfort meal. Nathan used to sneer at me for eating “heavy foods,” almost body-shaming me into believing my curves made me unworthy. But I know better now. I’m not fat. I’m plump, trim-waisted, and not his type of bony runway models. And I’m fine with that. As Matt sips his juice, he leans back, watching me. “I’ve got a fundraising charity gala tonight. Mostly business networking, some big names. Why don’t you

Yasmine POV After dinner, Luca’s driver dropped me off in front of my building. He’d stepped out of the car just to open the door for me, his hand lingering slightly as I got out. He didn’t kiss me goodnight or even try to touch me, but his eyes did more damage than a hundred stolen kisses could. They lingered on me, dark and unreadable, making me shiver before he finally returned to the car. Inside, the apartment was silent. Matt and Mark were gone, the faint smell of pizza still hanging in the air from earlier. I peeled off my dress and heels, craving comfort, and slipped into my favorite silky camisole and pajama shorts. The fabric cooled against my skin as I sank into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Tomorrow my paintings would be moved to the gallery. Diane, my assigned curator, wanted to finalize the exhibition’s themes and layout before next week’s opening. It should’ve been the only thing on my mind, but instead, I kept thinking about Luca. He had been a perfect gentleman toni

Yasmine POV There is no point in fighting because I believed Luca has been planning this for a while and one thing I have learnt about him is that he hates it when I try to resist or avoid him. Wrapped in the sheet I sit down on the bed and pick up the fork to start eating. l “You are not going to fight me, I expect some screaming and cussing?” He sound surprised. “Are you going to let me go if I do all that?” I asked. “No” “Then what’s the point, I will just save my energy than scream like some banshee” I replied and start digging through my lasagna. He sat down beside me and slide his hand into my hair. "It's good to know that you trust me, even if it's just a bit," he murmured while slightly massaging her scalp. "Why would I trust you?" I gritted out. "You are not behaving like a normal captive; it's like you know I won't hurt you subconsciously," he nipped her ear with his teeth. I shuddered as he trailed kisses over my shoulder, discovering the erogen

Yasmine POV I followed her quietly downstairs; the mansion seems large, possibly a family villa. It's cozy and gives a warm and inviting atmosphere. Golden, wrought-iron chandeliers hung over the stairway and down into the living room below, and the stairway railings are made of wrought iron. The house showcases a rustic interior featuring stone walls, terracotta floors, and exposed wooden beams. The stairway looks grand and leads into large, open living spaces with huge fireplaces. The arched doorways and windows have modern glass. There are antique furniture and sofas. It downright looks like a place out of a magazine. She led me into a large library and stopped in front of an office desk where Luca was working. He had changed into a loose white shirt and black slacks, a more relaxed attire perhaps suitable for the less formal environment of his personal library, contrasting with what he might wear for business meetings. He looked up from his laptop at us, his expression unrea