Dark Mafia Bride: An Arranged Marriage, Secret Baby Romance (Mafia Vows)

The rain pours down in thick, relentless sheets, drenching me as I trudge along the cracked sidewalk. I yank my jacket collar higher, but it’s pointless—I’m already soaked to the bone, down to my underwear.

My feet squish with each step inside my everyday shoes—my suede flats— which are slowly being ruined by the downpour. Just great, I think. The last thing I need right now is the extra expense of replacing them, even though they’re long past their prime.

A shiver rips through me, and I mutter a bitter curse under my breath. I’ve been forced to smile all night at this awful new job. I can barely stomach it, serving drinks to drunken men, pretending to be polite even when their hands wander where they shouldn’t. But I don’t have the luxury of quitting. With a mountain of debt crushing me, I’ll take any job no matter how degrading just to scrape together enough to pay everything off.

I tighten my grip on the strap of my bag as I approach the alley ahead. My knuckles throb from the pressure, and a flicker of unease crawls down my spine as I reach the entrance of the shortcut.

It’s clearly a bad idea to do this. The alley is narrow and dark—dangerous at this hour—but I need to make it to the bus before it leaves, or I’ll be stuck standing in the rain for another thirty minutes.

As I step into the alley, I glance over my shoulder, a strange prickle of anxiety gnawing at me. There’s no one there—just the steady rhythm of raindrops splashing against the pavement. Still, something feels off.

I’m halfway through the narrow path when shadows shift ahead of me. My heart plummets as three figures step out of the darkness as if they’ve been lying in wait.

Abruzzi’s men.

They move with a swagger that says they own this city, and in a way, they do. Abruzzi has eyes everywhere, and nothing happens without his knowing about it. I understand this because the few times I’ve met him, he always seems to be aware of even the most inconspicuous details about me—things I believe I hide very well. He knows the thoughts I’m about to voice, and at times he even articulates exactly what I’m thinking.

The three men close in on me, all clad in black, their leather coats slick with rainwater.

One of them flashes a cold, empty grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, well. Look who we have here.”

He’s the leader of the three, tall and lanky, with a crooked grin that makes my skin crawl. I know him all too well. He’s one of Abruzzi’s personal righthand men and the person I’d met on the unfortunate day I foolishly stepped into their underground loan shark operation. Back then, I was naïve, clueless about the mess I was getting myself into. I had no idea that borrowing money would mean crossing paths with a dangerous, sketchy man like Abruzzi.

My body freezes, my heart pounding in my ears. But I don’t show it. “I told Abruzzi I needed more time.”

“Time’s up, sweetheart.” His voice is as slick as oil on water, and it takes everything in me not to visibly shudder.

My pulse races, the icy rain somehow feeling even colder against my skin. I square my shoulders, forcing steel into my voice. “I told him I’m working on it. He’ll get his money. When have I ever backed out on a promise?”

The leader steps closer, his shadow looming over me. “Yeah, see, that’s the problem. Promises don’t cut it with the boss anymore. He wants his cash. Now.”

“I just need a little more time,” I plead, stepping back instinctively, but the three of them fan out, blocking my exit, trapping me in the narrow alley.

“How many times does he have to tell you?” growls the second guy, a thick-necked brute. “The boss gave you a favor by extending the deadline, but that favor’s worn thin.”

I grit my teeth, anger mixing with fear, my heart beating louder than ever. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

I realize what a stupid move that is when the leader’s grin widens. His sunken eyes gleaming with amusement. “Feisty. I like that.”

“Bet she’s a wild one in bed.” The third guy speaks for the first time. He’s bald, buff, and clearly a bonehead. He flexes his muscles like a predator ready to pounce, and the others snicker.

Morons.

“Look,” the leader drawls, his tone oozing false sympathy. “We don’t wanna make this ugly. But ugly’s always an option, y’know? Boss man ain’t exactly known for his patience, and you’re late. $20,000 too late. You know what happens to people who keep Abruzzi waiting?”

I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady, though my hands are trembling.

“He gets mad.”

Those words still haunt me—the same ones he said when I stood in front of his imposing mahogany desk in that dimly lit office.

“Pay up early, pretty girl. Don’t let me get mad.”

“Bingo,” the second guy chimes in as if this is some sick game. “Give the lady a prize.”

The leader steps closer, his eyes glinting with something darker. “Maybe we don’t gotta take it that far,” he muses, his voice low and suggestive. “Maybe there’s another way. Something…a little more in my favor.”

I know exactly what he means, and my stomach churns. Bile rises in my throat as I instinctively back up, only for my foot to slip in a puddle. I stumble against the cold, wet brick wall of the alley. Trapped.

They close in on me, their laughter low and menacing. This is bad. Really bad.

“I-I’ll get the money. I swear…”

“Of course you will,” the second guy cuts in, smirking. “We just want a little payment for making us come all the way here to look for you.”

My body shakes with fear, and I hate it. I hate how helpless I feel. How a desperate move to save my mother’s life has led me straight into this nightmare.

The leader steps even closer, his cronies flanking him on either side, cutting off any escape. He reaches out, his fingers grazing my cheek. “Don’t you worry, it’ll be quick and painless,” he whispers.

I clench my jaw, summoning whatever scraps of courage I can find. “You think I’m just going to let you?”

Their cruel laughter fills the narrow alley, echoing off the walls. “What’re you gonna do, princess? Take us all on?” the leader taunts. “I’d love to see you try. May even make this a little more fun.”

My hand tightens around the strap of my bag like it’s some kind of shield, though it feels utterly useless. My mind races, searching for a plan, anything, but all I feel is the crushing weight of fear closing in.

And then, through the relentless pounding of the rain, I hear it—the low, unmistakable hum of an engine. The three men snap their heads toward the sound, and I know this is my only chance. My only way out.

Before they can react, I slam my knee into the leader’s groin with every ounce of strength I have.

A groan escapes his lips as I tear myself from the wall, sprinting toward the alley’s entrance. At least, I try to. Before I can take three steps, his large hand clamps down on my arm, yanking me back.

“You fucking bitch! Now you’ve gone and made a real big mistake,” he snarls, slamming me hard against the wet brick wall.

The force knocks the wind out of me, and panic surges through my veins. I know in this moment there’s no escape. He’s mad now, and I’m completely trapped.

I bite back a sob as I feel his hand tighten around my arm as the other drifts downward, grazing my thigh. I want to scream, to fight back, but all that comes is a choked gasp. His hand creeps higher, brushing the hem of my dress just as the glare of headlights slices through the darkness.

“Who the fuck is that?” the leader snaps, his eyes narrowing.

I blink, focusing on the sleek black car now parked at the alley’s mouth. The door swings open, and a man steps out. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and his perfectly tailored coat is immaculate despite the rain that has soaked through everything else.

There’s something almost unnatural about how untouched he looks by the weather.

I can’t properly make out his face as he steps in front of the car. All I can see is the silhouette of a tall man with long, curly hair that stops at his shoulders.

His face is hidden, swallowed by the light behind him. He moves with easy confidence, not caring about the rain soaking his pristine state. Every step deliberate and unhurried, as if he owns the very ground beneath his feet.

A chill slithers down my spine as I wait, unsure of what’s coming next.

The second guy’s face drains of color as soon as he spots him. And I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Shit, Elia,” he breathes. “It’s The Reaper.”

The Reaper? Who the hell is that?

The leader—Elia scowls, but even he can’t hide the flicker of fear in his eyes. “What the fuck is he doin’ here?”

I don’t know who this man is, but the way they react tells me everything I need to know. This is no rescue, no guardian angel. He’s here for something else, something darker.

The Reaper—or whatever ridiculous name they’ve given him—stalks toward us, his footsteps echoing on the wet pavement. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flick over me for the briefest of moments, but it’s enough to make my skin prickle. His attention shifts to the men surrounding me, and the air in the alley thickens.

A sick silence falls. No one moves, no one speaks, but I can feel the weight of a decision hanging in the balance.

And then, without warning, he reaches inside his coat.

The tension snaps like a wire pulled too tight.

“You’ve got five seconds to walk away,” he says to the men, his voice steady, almost bored. “Unless you want to end up dead.”

He says it like he means it. The gravity of his words wraps around me like a shroud, and I exhale shakily as Elia’s hand leaves my thigh. He squares up to The Reaper, his earlier bravado flickering back to life.

“We don’t take no orders from you,”

The Reaper’s lips curl into a slow, dangerous smile. “No? Pity.”

Then everything unfolds in a heartbeat. A glint of metal catches the light, a swift slice cuts through the air, and in an instant, Elia clutches his neck, crimson gushing over his fingers.

“Fuck,” One of the men screams, lunging toward The Reaper as the leader collapses to the ground.

I watch in a mix of horror and awe. This man embodies his nickname. He moves with the grace of a predator, lethal and precise. The sound of his knife carving through flesh blends with the relentless patter of rain.

The impact of fists on skin, the sickening crack of bones, the groans and curses—it’s all brutal, efficient, and terrifyingly quick. Within moments, all three of Abruzzi’s men lie sprawled across the wet pavement, lifeless, just as he had promised.

I stand frozen, my heart racing, staring at the lifeless bodies of the men who’d threatened to do unspeakable things to me just minutes ago. My chest heaves, the adrenaline coursing through my veins like wildfire.

The Reaper strides over the bodies as if they’re nothing more than trash. He stops in front of me, his dark eyes gleaming under the streetlight. “You’re welcome.”

I feel a tumult of emotions—fear, relief, guilt—welling up inside me. Swallowing hard, I straighten my back, lifting my chin in defiance. “I didn’t need your help.”

Although his face remains partially obscured, I can make out the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark stubble that gives him an edge, and the subtle tilt of his lips as he smiles, a blend of arrogance and amusement.

“Is that right? Because from where I was standing, you were about five seconds from being raped.”

Rape.

The word strikes me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I swallow hard, my heartbeat thundering in my ears as the reality of what could have happened sinks in.

I try to speak, but my voice fails me. He studies me in silence, inching closer with an air of casual confidence.

“I take it you were heading home from work,” he drawls in a low voice.

I hate the sound of his voice—the way it makes my heart skip a beat. For some stupid reason, my brain stubbornly bypasses the fact that he just killed three men and focuses instead on the striking features of his face.

I glare up at him, trying to suppress the flutter in my stomach as I catch the dark glint in his eyes. “Why do you care? Why are you even here?”

His gaze sweeps over me, assessing every detail of my drenched skin as if he can see right through me. “I was bored.”

A disbelieving chuckle escapes my lips. Of course, he was. Whoever this man is, he’s infinitely more dangerous than Abruzzi.

Before I can muster a retort, he grabs my hand—not roughly, but with enough firmness that I don’t even think about resisting—and pulls me toward his car. “Come on.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His smirk returns, dangerous and enticing. “You’re shivering. At least let me get you out of this rain before you freeze to death.”

I don’t argue this time, mostly because my body betrays me with a violent shiver. I follow his lead, doing a bad job at ignoring the way his skin feels against mine.

When we reach his car, he opens the passenger door for me to slip inside.

The warmth envelops me immediately, the leather seats plush beneath me. He slides in beside me, his presence filling the small space with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. The heavy rain drums against the roof, and our breaths mingle in the confined air.

“I’ll take you somewhere to warm up,” he says, starting the engine. His voice is still smooth, but there’s an edge of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

He drives me to a small, intimate restaurant tucked away from the main streets—a hidden gem you only discover if you know where to look. The lights inside are dim, casting a golden glow over dark wood tables and plush leather booths. The air is rich with the aroma of spices and something mouthwatering sizzling in the kitchen.

We take a seat near the window. With him positioned opposite me, I take in his face fully for the first time. Damn. He’s handsome. He resembles a fallen angel…or perhaps the devil himself. With hazel eyes narrowed into slits, sharp angles and contours defining his face, and long black curly hair cascading over his forehead, he looks almost unreal.

This entire situation feels surreal. Him arriving just in time to save me, him dispatching three men in less than a minute, and us seated here as if it’s just another ordinary night.

“Are you in shock?” he asks casually.

I wrap my hands around the steaming bowl of soup the waitress sets down, allowing the heat to seep into my frozen fingers. Sitting across from me, he leans back in his seat, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

“I asked you a question.”

“Do you always have to get your way in every situation?” I blurt out.

“Yes. And I think you’re in shock.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not in shock. What’s the big deal? I just witnessed three men get murdered right before my eyes—three men who would have raped me, as you generously pointed out. They could have killed me afterward, too. Now they’re dead, and I don’t know if I should feel relieved or guilty. But what can I say? I’m alive, so everything is just peachy!”

He stares at me for a beat before laughing. And god, it’s such a beautiful sound. I hate it when he stops.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I sigh. “Mirabella.”

“Mirabella,” he repeats, testing my name on his lips. The way he says it sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

“The men who took me were terrified when you showed up. That’s before you killed them…”

I can’t believe I’m talking about murder so casually.

Dark humor flickers in his eyes as he observes me carefully.

I swallow before asking, “Who exactly are you, Reaper?”

“A businessman.”

“What’s your real name?”

He eyes me for a few seconds, and I feel my breath hitch under his heated gaze.

“Ettore,” he finally replies.

Ettore. I don’t know why, but the name suits him.

“Your surname?”

He chuckles. “My first name is all you need to know, Bella.”

Bella. A feeling I can’t describe revels through me at the nickname.

“You’re a little too vague for my liking,” I muse. “I need to know more about the man who killed three men and saved my life.”

His lips quirk. “And you’re a little ungrateful for someone who needed saving,” he counters.

I can’t help the small huff that escapes me. “Touché. So do you do this often?”

“Do what often?”

“Save random girls in the rain and take them to restaurants afterward?”

His eyes glint with amusement and something else I can’t quite decipher. “Just you.”

“Do you flirt with them afterward?” I ask, deliberately sidestepping the fact that I’m fishing for information about whether this gorgeous man is involved with anyone.

What are you doing, Mirabella? This man is a murderer.

I shouldn’t even be sitting here with him.

This man saved your life. Yes. You wouldn’t be here without him.

“Just you, Mirabella,” he drawls, this time putting more weight on my name, his eyes locking onto mine with a piercing intensity.

It’s too intense, too deep. I look away, reaching for a spoon and scooping some of the chicken carrot soup into my mouth.

There’s something about him that draws me in. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself—so calm, so in control, even in the face of danger. Perhaps it’s the way his gaze lingers on me—just a little too long, intense, and focused. He makes me feel things I’ve never experienced before, feelings I shouldn’t be having at this moment.

But then I find myself wondering, Why not?

Why not take a risk for once? Why not do something for myself instead of scraping by day after day struggling for everyone else? I could have died today. Hell, I almost did. And here I am, sitting across from a man who’s likely the most dangerous person I’ve ever met, and yet I feel safe…and aroused.

I’ll never see Ettore again. He seems like someone I could never stand a chance of bumping into on a normal day. After tonight, I’ll return to my pathetic life moving from one dreadful work shift to the next.

Maybe it’s the thrill of narrowly escaping death or the excitement of having the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen staring at me in this way, but I lean forward, my voice soft as I blurt out, “I think I want to have sex with you.”