Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride novel Chapter 17

Gia’s POV

The doors swung open and we stepped into a massive room that looked like it belonged in some underground mercenary headquarters. The walls were dark, filled with weapons lined up like trophies, knives, things I didn’t even have names for. It was all one big dangerous world that sent chills down my spine.

Every man inside stiffened the moment Dante walked in. He didn’t need to speak. They moved like they’d been trained to snap to attention at the sound of his boots.

And me? I walked in like I didn’t care, making it clear I'd been dragged here, ripped from the only life I had left.

Though it wouldn't make much of a difference, because these men were all a bunch of heartless humans.

Dante stopped in front of them.

“This,” he said, nodding toward me without even looking, “is Gianna Giovanni. Vincenzo’s daughter.”

Whispers didn’t follow. Just a stillness.

He went on, voice low but final, like he was making a vow. “From this moment on, she is under my protection. No one touches her. No one speaks to her without my permission. No one lays a fucking finger on her. Is that clear?”

Protection. What a joke.

“Yes, boss,” the men replied in rehearsed unison.

Dante turned to one of the men, tall, broad, with short hair nearly black and a darkness in his eyes that matched Dante’s. His clothes were simple, but everything about him screamed scary.

“This is Bruno. My right hand. If I’m not here, he’s in charge. He’ll look after you.”

Bruno stepped forward, extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Gia.”

I stared at his hand, then slowly reached for it. My grip was deliberately firm, almost defiant.

“Just Gia,” I said. “And I don’t need a shadow. I’ll survive just fine without someone babysitting me like I’m helpless.”

Bruno’s mouth twitched into a smirk, not seeming offended in the slightest.

“Trust me. Around here, you’ll be begging for someone to babysit you before the week’s over.”

I pulled my hand back and wiped it on my gown like he’d dirtied it. “I’ll take my chances.”

Bruno grinned wider. “Feisty. Good luck with that.”

Dante shot him a look. “That’s enough.”

And just like that, Bruno backed off.

“Bruno will introduce you to the rest of the men later,” Dante said, then gave the room one stern look.

They exchanged brief glances amongst each other, and then the majority filed out, leaving only five men behind. Bruno included.

These had to be his inner circle.

Bruno pulled a chair out for me.

“Sit,” Dante ordered.

“I don’t believe he’s dead,” Dante went on, his voice lower now, heavy with something darker. “Not until I see a body. Your father has always been a coward and a greedy rat. I wouldn’t put it past him to let his own men die in his place.”

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. “If you believe all these horrible things about my dad, and think he’s alive, then go find him. Why drag me into it?”

His smirk came back, darker this time. “Because you, my pretty doll, are his beloved daughter, he kept hidden from the world, and you would be the tool that would lead us to him.”

Shock ran through me. “How? You’ve kidnapped me. Locked me in here. What the hell can I do?”

“You can do more than you think.” He leaned closer. “You’ll tell me every information there is to know about your father. What he likes, what he hates, where he goes, every vacation home, every hideout. Everything.”

I met his stare, refusing to look away. “If by some miracle my dad is alive, why would I help you find him? So you can kill him again?”

His voice deepened, not with anger but possession. “You don’t get to bargain with me. I own your life now, Gianna. And if you want to keep breathing without learning the true meaning of hell, you’ll help me.”

I scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me. This doesn’t feel like hell already.”

The crack of his palm slamming on the table made me jump. “Enough.”

The men shifted, startled. Even Bruno straightened, though his eyes glimmered like he was enjoying this.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “I’ve had enough of your smart mouth. Now you tell me everything, every safe house, every name, every movement you can remember.”

He reached to the side of his desk and slid a massive sheet of paper in front of me, maps, notes, coordinates. Pictures of my dad with his men, photos of properties. Some I knew. Some I didn’t.

“We’ve scoured every one of these,” Dante pointed at locations on the map. “He’s not there. But he’s hiding somewhere, like the rat he is. And you are going to help us pinpoint the exact spot.”