SUBSTITUTE BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA DON

Dahlia’s POV

Time seemed to stop. My mouth went dry. My legs felt like they had turned to jelly. I couldn’t think. I wanted to pull my hand away, to step back, to scream, but the fear in his eyes and the power in his voice made me freeze in place.

My heart raced so fast it felt like it would explode. What… what did he just say? I thought, my mind spinning. Is he serious? Is this real?

The housekeeper glanced at him and then back at me. She didn’t say anything, didn’t blink. It was as if she expected me to obey without question.

I could feel the weight of Luca’s gaze on me, dark and intense, like he was watching not just my body, but my thoughts too. Every instinct in me screamed to run, but the thought of leaving the house, of disobeying him, was terrifying.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, trying to steady my shaking legs. My mind raced with a million thoughts: I just met this man. I barely know him. And now… now he’s asking me to… My stomach churned, and cold sweat broke out across my skin.

I forced my legs to move, one shaky step at a time, following the housekeeper who walked quietly in front of me. She didn’t look back to check on me, but somehow I could feel she knew how scared I was. The silence wrapped around us, making the sound of our footsteps louder, almost too loud. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, and every sound seemed to bounce off the tall walls of the mansion.

Finally, she stopped at one of the doors near the end of the hallway. It was tall and made of dark wood, with a gold handle that caught the light. She turned to me, her expression calm, though there was something in her eyes—something I couldn’t quite name.

“My name is Mrs. Cruz,” she said softly, her voice calm and almost motherly, though I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. “This is Mr. Romano’s room… and yours as well.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, though the words sounded thin and broken, like they weren’t really mine.

I reached for the golden handle with trembling fingers, trying to steady my breathing, but before I could push the door open, Mrs. Cruz leaned closer. Her face softened, and for the first time I saw real emotion in her eyes.

“Obey Mr. Romano,” she whispered, her tone quiet, almost secretive, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. But there was sympathy in her voice, heavy and clear, like she was warning me and pitying me at the same time.

Without another word, she stepped back and gave me a small nod before walking away, her footsteps fading down the long hall.

With a small push, I forced the door open, the hinges groaning softly like they were warning me not to enter.

The room stretched out before me like something out of a nightmare and a dream at the same time. It was massive, too big for one person. The walls were painted in dark, brooding colors—shadows clung to the corners as if even the light from the chandelier above dared not chase them away. A faint smell of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mixed with leather and something metallic I couldn’t name, but it made my stomach twist.

My eyes landed on the bed, and I froze. It was huge, draped in sheets so dark they almost blended with the shadows. The headboard was tall, carved wood that looked older than me, and the pillows were arranged perfectly, not a crease out of place. The bed was the kind of thing that demanded attention, like it knew what it was meant for. My cheeks burned at the thought, and my heart thumped louder.

Go upstairs and wait for me. Naked.

His words kept playing in my head again and again until I felt lightheaded. I stood there in the middle of the room, shaking a little, my hands cold and clammy. My fingers reached for the zipper at the back of my wedding dress. I touched it, felt the cool metal under my skin, but I couldn’t pull it down. I just couldn’t. My chest felt tight, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

I turned away from the mirror and walked to the big window instead. The view outside was beautiful—tall trees, a wide driveway, the sun slowly setting—but all I could think was what if I ran? What if I just opened that window and jumped out? Could I make it? Would anyone stop me?

My thoughts were all over the place when the sound of the door opening made me freeze. My heart jumped to my throat.

“Denise,” his voice said from behind me. Deep. Calm. Dangerous.

For a moment, I didn’t even answer. I had forgotten that was supposed to be my name now. When I finally turned around, he was standing by the door, still in his black suit, still as stone. His eyes—dark, unreadable—found me instantly. The air in the room shifted, heavy and cold.

“Why are you still wearing your clothes?” His voice was low, quiet—but it carried through the room like a threat. “Did you not hear what I told you to do?”