Semua Bab Mafia’s Virgin Bride: Bab 1 - Bab 5

The elevator whispered closed behind me like a mouth sealing shut.I stood frozen, palms pressed together in front of me like I was in church. The man beside me — tall, broad, blank-faced — didn’t look at me once. He hadn’t spoken since opening the black car door twenty minutes ago. Not when I asked where we were going. Not when I fumbled to tie my coat shut with trembling fingers. Not when I almost tripped on the marble floor of the lobby.I had the feeling he’d been trained to ignore fear. Or maybe trained to enjoy it.The elevator was a box of polished chrome and gold accents — it gleamed like wealth trying too hard not to. Each surface reflected my back at myself, distorting me into stretched shadows. My lips were too dry. My braid too tight. My jacket too thin for how cold I felt inside.The numbers above the doors blinked upward slowly.53… 54… 55…I swallowed and glanced at my reflection again — eyes too wide, like prey. The kind of girl who’d say please if someone pressed a gu

The door clicked shut behind me before I could step back.The guard was gone. The hallway, gone. The elevator, gone.Now it was just me — and this place.The penthouse was silent except for the soft hum of ventilation, the quietest kind of rich. Cream walls, gold trim, marble floors so pale they looked like ice. A candle burned on the coffee table, though no one had lit it in front of me. The room smelled faintly of white flowers and something colder underneath — a scent I was starting to associate with Dante Moretti.I stood there, just inside the door, trying not to feel too small.Then I heard the voice.“Good. You’re on time.”I turned. A woman in a dark fitted dress stood near the bedroom door, clipboard in hand, eyes already raking over me like I was a dress form.“I’m here to prepare you for tomorrow,” she said crisply. “Undress.”I blinked. “Excuse me?”She didn’t look up from her clipboard. “Undress. Mr. Moretti sent your measurements ahead, but he wants custom tailoring. Acc

I didn’t remember falling asleep.But when I opened my eyes, the room was pale with morning light and smelled like coffee.Not burnt or bitter — expensive coffee. Smooth. Rich. The kind people drank slowly because they knew they could afford more.The sheets were wrinkled beneath me, the dress still clinging to my legs. I hadn’t moved all night. My muscles ached from how tightly I must’ve curled into myself.The necklace was still there.It sat cold against my throat, the clasp pressing a faint bruise into the back of my neck. I reached up to remove it—Click.The door opened.A girl entered — no knock, no warning. She looked no older than me. Pretty, dark hair pulled into a tight twist, black dress uniform perfectly pressed. A tray balanced in one hand. She didn’t speak right away.Just moved to the table near the window and began arranging breakfast like I wasn’t there.“Is there a—” I started.“No talking during service,” she said quickly, without looking at me.Oh.Okay.She finis