Bethroted To The Mafia Boss
Chapter 3
Alice’s POV
It had been four days since Dad dropped the bombshell about my marriage to Victor.
Four days… and the words still didn’t feel real.
I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, twisting the edge of my bedsheet between my fingers. In just one month, I would be twenty-five. Normally, my birthday was the one day of the year I looked forward to the most. Dad and Uncle always made it magical.
My chest tightened.
Uncle.
A dull ache settled in my throat as I turned onto my side and hugged my pillow. He had disappeared without a trace. No warning. No explanation. Just… gone. We searched everywhere. Asked everyone. Nothing.
I swallowed hard.
I hope you’re alive… wherever you are.
“Uncle, where are you?” I whispered into the empty room.
My phone buzzed loudly on the bedside table, making me jump. I wiped at my eyes before grabbing it.
“Hello, Evans. How’re you doing?” I tried to sound normal.
There was a pause.
“Alice… who am I to you?”
I frowned, sitting up. “What’s wrong? My best friend, of course.”
“Then why,” his voice tightened, “am I reading a magazine right now with your face and Victor Arc’s face on the front page announcing your engagement and wedding?”
My stomach dropped.
“Oh no…” I slapped a hand over my forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell Evans.”
“Evans, dear, I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, pacing the room now. “I was going to tell you when I had the chance. I’ve just been so busy.”
“Busy doing what, Alice?” His voice rose slightly. “This is the kind of news I should hear from you first. It’s your wedding. And to my ex–best friend, too. You know I know everything about you.”
Guilt prickled under my skin.
I stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, sighing. “Evans… I’ve been trying to convince Dad not to agree to the wedding.”
A pause.
“Why?”
I pushed off the wall, frustration bubbling up. “What do you mean why? Victor is not the boy we grew up with. He’s changed.”
“Really?” Evans said slowly. “How do you know that? You haven’t spoken to him in years.”
I hesitated, then muttered, “I follow him on social media.”
“And?”
“And I see the women he’s always with,” I snapped, my free hand clenching into a fist. “Different ladies every time. Parties. Trips. Rumors. He’s a playboy, Evans. I can’t marry a playboy.”
The words left my mouth, but instead of relief, my chest felt heavier.
Because deep down… I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince Evans…
...or myself.
I hear Evans laughing softly on the other end of the call, and I roll my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugs at my lips.
“You have always been in love with him, Alice. Please stop deceiving yourself,” Evans says gently. “I remember when we were little. You used to blush whenever you saw him… or when he called your name. You kept every gift, every birthday card he gave you.”
His voice softens.
“Marry him, Alice. You both deserve each other.”
I stop walking beside the grocery shelves and grip my phone tighter.
“No, we don’t deserve each other,” I mutter, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “I just told you who he is. A playboy. I’m not ready to be heartbroken again.”
“At least you didn’t deny that you still love him.”
A short, disbelieving laugh escapes me.
“Love? I was a teenager. It was a crush. Hormones, Evans. That’s all.”
Evans laughs again, warm and knowing.
“Well… just give him a chance. He deserves it, you know. Our parents were the ones who separated you back then. It wasn’t exactly Victor’s fault.”
I frown, shifting the basket on my arm.
“Wait… why are you speaking up for him? I thought you were my best friend. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Alice,” he says softly, “I’ve known you since we were kids. I watched you grow into this beautiful, stubborn woman. I know your heart. What you felt for Victor — and what you still feel — isn’t a crush. It’s love.
So my advice, my dear best friend… give him a chance. Just think about it, okay?”
I exhale slowly, my resistance weakening just a little.
“Okay, Evans. I need to go. I’m shopping for groceries.”
“Alright. Bye… love you.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call.
The moment the line goes dead, a strange feeling crawls over my skin — like someone is watching me.
I turn.
Victor stands a few steps away, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on me with that unreadable, amused expression.
My stomach drops.
Great. Just great.
“Allie,” he says, voice low and smooth, “who was that on the phone?”
I lift my chin. “None of your business.”
He arches a brow, taking a slow step closer.
“Young lady, you don’t speak to your husband-to-be that way.”
My chest tightens with irritation.
“You are not — and will never be — my husband-to-be.”
Victor chuckles, the sound deep and annoyingly confident.
“My dear Allie, your father has already given me the go-ahead to start making preparations.”
He leans slightly closer, lowering his voice.
“As we speak, our wedding venue is booked.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “But—”
“But what?” he interrupts calmly. “I told you, you are getting married to me. Whoever you were speaking to had better get it into his thick head that he’s flirting with another man’s future wife.”
His gaze darkens slightly.
“I don’t want to have to fight anyone for you, my love. You belong to me. Body. Soul. Spirit.”
Heat rushes through me — anger first, then something far more dangerous.
“I belong to myself,” I snap. “Booking a venue when the bride hasn’t said yes is a failure on your part, Victor.”
“Oh, she’ll say yes,” he replies softly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Very soon. Especially after she sees my surprise.”
My heart stumbles.
“What surprise, Victor?”
He only smiles wider.
“Don’t worry, my little Allie. You’ll see it very soon.”
I glare at him, pulse racing.
“Don’t play games with me, Victor. I’m not one of your playthings.”
He tilts his head, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Oh, definitely you are.”
His voice drops to a near whisper.
“You’re my favorite plaything.”
My breath catches. Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it.
I turn quickly and walk away, pretending I don’t hear his quiet, satisfied laughter behind me.
He better not be playing games with me.
As I push my cart forward, my thoughts whirl.
What is he planning?
What could that surprise be?
I shake my head, trying to dismiss the uneasy flutter in my chest.
I’m not getting married to Victor.
I just need to find a way to convince Dad.
…Or—
I hesitate, fingers tightening on the cart handle.
Should I give him a chance…
just like Evans advised?
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