The Mafia's Chosen Bride

w leaning against the doorframe, his sharp

d you didn't bring many clothes with you," he began, his tone matter-of-fact. "Change into something from these

, her eyes flitting toward the bags. The mere idea of donning clothes

oving toward an adjoining door, p

she reached for the shopping bags. The clothes inside were elegant yet simple-too luxurious for someone like her. A soft blue dress,

xpects everyone to be

yet undeniably refined. Isabella smoothed the fabric nervously, her fingers brushing against the

ows let in streams of golden sunlight, casting intricate shadows across the polished mahogany table.

ng the cutlery and plates. She joined them, her movements quiet and purposefu

ded an air of authority with his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed and his tailored suit immaculate. Caterina,

d bowed to avoid Caterina's piercing gaze. She was abou

are you

rk hair still damp and swept back. He strode into th

ltered

Pulling out a chair, he

es widened. "

ted sharply, her tone laced wi

ced with sarcasm. "Or have you conveniently forgotten th

pressing into a thin line. "Don't take tha

" Alex said, his gaze locking with hers. "So n

urry out of the room like mice avoiding a brewing storm. Isab

er. His eyes held a glint of something-was it defiance or

pulled out, as though it might swallow her whole. Her ha

ut Isabella kept her eyes down, her

d, cured meats, cheeses, fruits, and an array of pastries, but Isabella couldn't bri

he tension in the air. Caterina, on the other hand, glared dag

his tone leaving n

ssant, unable to shake th

t, his eyes flickering

and sipping his coffee as though nothing in the room was out of the ordinary. The te

h warmth laced with curiosity. "Isabella," he said, his t

up before she quickly lowered her gaze again. "Y-yes, thank you,"

could see right through her answer. "And my son?" he added casually,

esitated, glancing at Alex, who continued eating without so much as a twitch in hi

her voice barely above a

n set foot in the house until early this morning. Her mind raced with questions abo

yes flicked between the two of them, lingering on Alex a

expression shifting to something m

d a bite of toast. He leaned back slightly in his ch

"You'd be proud, padre. Or perhaps," he added with a faint smirk,

remained composed. "It's good to see you're handling it well," he said evenly, though th

nsion between father and son was thick, yet neither raised their voice. It was a silen

here lingered. Isabella's appetite, already faint, disappeared entirely. She picked at

gerated scrape. "I've lost my appetite," she declared coldly, rising from her seat. She cast a fin

of that glare, her chest tighte

s mother's retreating form. He continued eati

ed, returning to his