Under the Mafia King’s Control

When I opened my eyes the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains. For a fleeting moment, I thought everything was normal again—that the bizarre reality of my life had been nothing but a bad dream. But the warmth of an arm wrapped firmly around my waist and the steady breathing behind me quickly shattered that illusion.

Alessandro.

He was still there, his arm possessively draped over me as if to ensure I hadn't escaped during the night. I stiffened slightly, unsure of what to do. Should I gently slip out of his grasp? Pretend I was still asleep? But before I could decide, his breath brushed against my ear.

"You're awake."

His voice was deep, still rough with sleep. I swallowed hard, keeping my back to him. "Yes..."

He slowly withdrew his arm, but not before murmuring, "You sleep well in my arms."

The casual tone of his comment sent a flush of warmth to my cheeks. "I was just tired, that's all," I replied quickly, sitting up to put some distance between us.

Alessandro said nothing, but I could feel his gaze on me—piercing, as if he were trying to read my thoughts.

"I'll... get ready," I mumbled, rising from the bed with more urgency than necessary.

In the sanctuary of the bathroom, I leaned against the sink, my heart pounding faster than I cared to admit. Being so close to him, feeling his warmth, his presence—it unsettled me in ways I couldn't fully comprehend.

When I finally emerged, Alessandro was already dressed, immaculate as ever in a dark suit that only seemed to emphasize his commanding presence. He stood by the window, speaking softly in Italian over the phone.

I paused for a moment, observing him despite myself. The way he carried himself, the effortless authority in his stance—it was captivating, even if I didn't want to admit it. He looked so composed, so certain of himself. Meanwhile, I was still struggling to find my footing in a life that no longer felt like mine.

When he ended the call, he turned to me, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Ready for our first day?"

"Our first day of what?" I asked warily.

He adjusted his cufflinks, taking a step closer to me. "As husband and wife."

I rolled my eyes. "You mean playing a role?"

"It's not just a role, Arianna," he said, his tone calm but firm, his eyes locking onto mine. "This is your life now."

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door.

"Breakfast is ready, Mr. and Mrs. Valenti," Teresa announced warmly from the hallway.

The dining table was impeccably set, every detail reminiscent of a luxury hotel. Alessandro took his seat across from me, his expression unreadable yet attentive.

I focused on my plate, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze, which seemed to follow my every movement.

"This evening, there's a reception," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

I looked up, surprised. "A reception? For what?"

"Business," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Partners, allies... They need to see you by my side."

I sighed, pushing my glass of orange juice aside. "So, another performance. Another façade."

Alessandro set his cup down slowly, fixing me with an intense look. "It's not a façade, Arianna. It's a statement."

I frowned, intrigued despite myself. "A statement of what?"

"That you're my wife," he said plainly. "And that no one should doubt your place beside me."

His words made a flicker of annoyance rise in me, but I knew arguing wouldn't get me anywhere.

The day passed in a blur. Before I knew it, Teresa entered my room with a gown that Alessandro had chosen for the evening.

It was elegant—black with silver accents—both understated and sophisticated. Wearing it felt like stepping into the role of someone in a glamorous movie, a role that still didn't feel like mine.

When I descended the stairs, Alessandro was waiting in the hall, his dark suit once again emphasizing his imposing presence. His eyes scanned me slowly, deliberately, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of admiration.

"You're perfect," he said simply.

I averted my gaze, uncomfortable under the weight of his compliment. "Thank you," I murmured.

He extended his arm, and after a brief hesitation, I took it, acutely aware of the warmth and steadiness of his touch.

The reception was held at a grand villa, its halls illuminated by crystal chandeliers and soft candlelight. As soon as we entered, I felt the weight of countless eyes on us.

Alessandro, as always, appeared utterly at ease. His hand rested lightly but firmly on the small of my back as he guided me through the crowd. Every movement he made was deliberate, an unspoken message to everyone watching: She is mine.

"Relax," he murmured in my ear, his voice low and commanding.

Before I could respond, he leaned in and placed a brief, deliberate kiss on my temple. The gesture was quick, but its meaning was clear. My breath hitched, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

A few nearby guests politely averted their eyes, as though unwilling to intrude on such an intimate moment.

"Alessandro!" I whispered through gritted teeth, mortified.

He smirked, clearly amused by my reaction. "Remember, Arianna. They need to see us united."

As we mingled with the crowd, a striking woman approached us. She was tall and elegant, her crimson dress drawing every eye in the room. Her blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders, and her smile was as sharp as it was calculated.

She stopped directly in front of Alessandro, her gaze sliding right past me as though I didn't exist.

"Alessandro," she said, her voice soft and laced with insinuation.

I noticed the subtle way Alessandro tensed, though his expression remained composed.

"Giulia," he replied, his tone icy.

Giulia placed a delicate hand on his arm, tilting her head coyly. "It's been so long. I'm glad to see your... priorities have shifted."

Though I couldn't fully decipher her meaning, her words set my teeth on edge.

Giulia finally turned her attention to me, her smile widening. "And you must be Arianna."

"Yes," I said curtly, my voice colder than I intended.

She studied me for a moment, her gaze assessing, as though searching for cracks in my armor. "You're very lucky, Arianna. Alessandro is... one of a kind."

Before I could reply, Alessandro's hand tightened on my waist, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Ignore her. She's not worth your time."

But Giulia, seemingly amused by Alessandro's protectiveness, didn't back down.

"You've become quite demonstrative, Alessandro," she remarked with a sly smile. "Marriage seems to suit you."

In response, Alessandro cupped my face and pressed a firm kiss to my lips—a kiss that was unquestionably calculated but left me momentarily stunned.

When he pulled back, Giulia raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, though her smile remained fixed. "Fascinating," she murmured before finally walking away.

Later, as Alessandro spoke with a group of associates, another man approached us.

He was tall and striking, with sharp features, dark brown hair, and piercing green eyes. His presence rivaled Alessandro's, though his demeanor was far more relaxed.

"Alessandro," the man greeted with a confident smile, extending a hand.

"Lorenzo," Alessandro replied, shaking his hand briefly, his tone noticeably colder.

The tension between them was palpable, though Lorenzo seemed unbothered.

"And this must be your lovely wife," Lorenzo said, his gaze sliding to me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Alessandro's hand found my waist again, the gesture firm and unmistakably possessive. "Arianna," he said, his voice steady. "My wife."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your wife? That's... unexpected. I didn't take you for a romantic, Alessandro."

The comment was light, but the provocation was clear.

Alessandro's response was a curt, "My personal life doesn't concern you."

Undeterred, Lorenzo extended his hand to me. "Arianna, it's a pleasure to meet you."

I shook his hand hesitantly, unsure how to navigate the unspoken tension. "Likewise," I replied softly.

Later in the evening, Lorenzo approached me again while I stood alone near the refreshments table.

"So, Arianna," he began, his tone light but undeniably probing. "How do you find life with Alessandro? Intimidating, isn't it?"

I took a glass of champagne, avoiding his gaze. "It's... an adjustment."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure. Alessandro is... particular. He likes to control everything."

I frowned, annoyed by his insinuation. "Particular?"

Lorenzo shrugged, his smile never wavering. "Let's just say I wonder how long someone like you will tolerate it."

Before I could respond, a familiar hand landed firmly on my shoulder.

"Lorenzo," Alessandro said, his voice a low warning. "I think you've said enough."

Lorenzo smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Of course. I didn't mean to intrude."

As he walked away, Alessandro leaned closer to me, his tone turning icy.

"Don't speak to him again."

"Alessandro, he was just—"

"He's dangerous, Arianna," Alessandro interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And I won't let him or anyone else get near you."

Though his words were protective, the intensity in his tone left me shaken. For the rest of the evening, Alessandro stayed by my side, his presence unwavering as he shielded me from Lorenzo's watchful gaze.