Page 1 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

Chapter One

Elena

"Mr. Moretti, are you in there?"

The third-floor hallway sat quiet, wall sconces casting soft light. I stood outside Dante's room, clutching an expensive Italian suit, waiting. No answer came from inside.

Alfredo sent me to deliver this suit to Dante. Why he'd given this task to me—someone who'd never even spoken to Dante—I had no idea. But he was the manor's head butler, the highest authority. I couldn't question him. I had to obey.

Security at the manor was tight. The guards who usually watched the third floor were nowhere to be seen.

I felt a little nervous, so I knocked on the door again, but there was still no response.

Since I was only here to deliver the clothes, I could just leave them inside and leave right away. With that thought in mind, I reached out and gently pushed open the half-closed door. Just as I was about to step inside, I heard the bathroom door open. I instinctively looked up toward the sound, and the sight before me made my mind go completely blank for a moment.

Dante stood there, dripping wet. Water rolled down his hair, droplets sliding along the strands. He gripped the bathroom doorframe, his bronze body completely exposed. The second he saw me, irritation flashed across his face. He grabbed a towel and covered himself from the waist down.

I dropped my gaze fast, pretending I'd seen nothing.

Too late.

I'd seen everything.

The hard chest. The tight lines of his abs. Black ink sprawled across his bronze skin—dangerous and magnetic.

I'd never seen a man's body before. Heat flooded my face, spreading from my neck to my ears. I clutched the suit tighter, wanting to scream, but I swallowed the sound. I stood frozen, holding the garment like a statue.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Dante's voice came out low and deep, pulling me back.

"I-I..."

I kept my head down, fingers white-knuckled on the garment bag. I didn't dare look up, but the image of him was burned into my mind. I couldn't shake it.

"Alfredo sent me to bring you your suit!"

The words tumbled out. My voice shook. Even I could hear it.

Dante said nothing. I waited for judgment.

After a few seconds, he spoke. "Put it on the bed."

I heard fabric rustle—he'd put on a robe. I walked to the bed, head still down, and pulled the neatly folded suit from the bag. I laid it out across the mattress.

Just as I finished, I heard his footsteps approach.

"Wait."

I lifted my head slightly. He walked closer. His robe hung loose, the belt barely tied, the front gaping open to reveal his collarbone and traces of ink beneath.

I didn't know where to look. I turned my eyes to the floor.

He picked up the suit and examined it. His brow furrowed.

"Why's it so wrinkled?" He muttered, then looked at me. "Iron it for me."

He pointed to the window where a standing ironing board and steamer sat.