Todos los capítulos de SUBSTITUTE BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA DON: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Dahlia’s POVWhen I opened my eyes that morning, it took me a moment to remember where I was. For a few seconds, I lay there staring at the high ceiling, the heavy curtains, and the giant bed that didn’t belong to me. Then it all came back like a sharp slap to the face. The wedding. The gunshots. Luca Romano.I rolled onto my side, my chest tight. The other half of the bed was untouched, not a wrinkle on the sheets, not even the faintest dip in the mattress. Cold and perfect. My fingers brushed over the smooth fabric, and I felt something inside me twist. He hadn’t slept here. He hadn’t even bothered to pretend.I sat up slowly, my hair sticking to my face, and pressed my hands into my lap to stop their shaking. My body still felt heavy, like I had carried stones inside me all night. My eyes burned, but no tears came. I think I had run out of them.Swinging my legs off the bed, my bare feet touched the cold floor. The chill shot up my legs, making me shiver. I hugged my arms around mys

Dahlia’s POVTwo of them stood at the far end of the hall, and another was stationed closer to the stairs. Big men in black suits, built like walls. Their faces were unreadable, their stares fixed straight ahead, but I could feel it—the way they noticed me without actually looking. Like shadows that breathed.I lowered my gaze immediately, clutching the hem of the shirt to keep myself covered, my cheeks heating up with shame. They didn’t say a word as I passed, but their silence felt heavier than words. My heart raced, and my palms were slick with sweat by the time I reached the stairs.Step by step, I descended, my stomach growling loudly in the quiet. That embarrassed me too. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, not properly, and now my body was reminding me with every sharp pang in my belly.The smell hit me before I found the kitchen—warm bread, frying onions, maybe eggs. My mouth watered instantly. I walked faster, following the scent like a trail, and finally I found the wide

Dahlia’s POVAn hour later, I was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep my thoughts from running wild. The mansion was so quiet that I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. I hugged one of the pillows to my chest, sinking into the soft mattress, but no matter how soft it was, I still felt restless. Every creak of the house made me turn my head, every passing shadow outside the curtains made me sit up a little straighter. I didn’t know if it was fear, nerves, or both, but it kept me on edge.Then came a knock on the door. A sharp, polite knock that made me jump. My heart raced, thudding against my ribs as I got off the bed. I padded across the room barefoot, Luca’s shirt brushing against my knees as I moved. I hesitated for a second, my hand hovering over the knob, before finally pulling it open.A man stood there. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with neatly combed dark hair and a suit so sharp it looked like it had been cut just for him. I recognized hi

Dahlia’s POVI finally pushed myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My hair was a mess, strands sticking to my cheeks, and my lips were dry. I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The rush of water filled the tiled room, echoing softly. I stepped under the spray and let the warm water pour over me, soaking into my skin, washing away the drowsiness. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, listening to the steady sound, and for a moment I felt almost calm. Almost safe.When I finished, I wrapped myself in a towel and wiped the steam from the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, pale and bare, looking younger than I felt. There was no glow, no shine—just me, simple, plain. A little part of me liked that.I dried my hair quickly, leaving it damp and messy, and went into the closet.The closet wasn’t just a closet. It was like a showroom. Dresses of every color and texture lined the walls, neatly pressed and hanging on polished wooden hangers. Some shimmered

Dahlia’s POVThe car slowed to a stop, and I felt my stomach twist itself into a hard knot. My fingers curled into the fabric of my gown, bunching it up in my lap as though holding onto it would keep me steady. The driver stepped out, and a second later the door beside Luca opened. He got out first, tall and composed, his tuxedo fitting him like it had been stitched onto his body. He looked untouchable. Like he owned not just this night, but the entire world.Then he turned to me and stretched out his hand.For a second, I just sat there staring at it. His hand was big, strong, his skin slightly tanned against the white cuff of his shirt. My heart hammered in my chest so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I placed my hand into his. His palm was warm, steady, and in one easy pull, he helped me out of the car.The cool night air hit me, carrying with it the faint sound of music, laughter, and clinking glasses drifting out from the grand building in front