The return of the mafia bride

pte

A'S

ed. "I'm disappointed in you, Father." I said with clenched fists behind my back. "You don't understand!" The truth is that I didn't want to understand as I left the house. The city was a stark contrast to the quiet and controlled world I once knew. There were neon lights blinking, music booming from every corner, and carefree laughter filling the air. It was raw, alive, and a little overwhelming. Drawn to the energy, I stepped into a vibrant nightclub. People tossed back drinks like they were nothing. I had never tasted alcohol before. My father forbade it, claiming it made people reckless. Maybe that was exactly what I needed. Ignoring the pulsing dance floor, I approached the bar and took a sip of the first amber drink I found. The burn was immediate, searing my throat and chest. I coughed, stunned but then wanted more. As I reached for another, a striking bartender smirked at me and poured a second glass. The burn softened this time. I was halfway through my third drink when a man, far too refined for the setting, sat beside me. He was captivating. "Slow down, or you'll be a mess before your friends show up," he warned. "I don't have friends," I muttered, pushing my hair from my face. "You look like this isn't your scene. Is this your first time?" "I belong here," I shot back. "More than anyone else in this place." That amused him. "What's your name?" "Isla." "Evans," he replied. There was something about him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way he truly saw me-not as a girl, but as a woman. He handed me another drink, his gaze never leaving mine. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" "No," I admitted. He smiled. "I like that you're honest." Then he leaned in. "Let's go somewhere quiet." I didn't resist as he led me out. One car ride later, we were in a stunningly large hotel. Luxury radiated from every surface. The alcohol made everything feel intense-his touch set my body