Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 58

Damian’s POV

The tedious ritual of escorting Adriana Montrosso through Florence's upscale shopping district had already tested my patience to its breaking point. For the past two hours, I'd endured her incessant chatter about fabric choices, jewelry selections, and the social significance of every detail for tonight's gala.

"The emerald necklace or the diamonds, Damian?" she asked for the third time, holding up two exquisite pieces that probably cost more than most people's annual salaries. "I want to look absolutely perfect tonight. After all, everyone will be watching us."

"Either is fine," I replied curtly, checking my watch with deliberate obviousness. "We have other appointments to keep."

"Oh, but this is so important," she purred, moving closer with that calculated grace that had probably charmed lesser men but left me cold. "Tonight marks the beginning of so many wonderful possibilities. Grandfather says you've been working too hard, that you need someone to help you appreciate life's finer pleasures."

Before I could deliver the cutting response that comment deserved, movement in the bakery across the street caught my attention. Through the shop's pristine windows, I glimpsed a familiar profile.

Aria. Standing beside a display case filled with elaborate confections, her dark hair catching the afternoon light as she gestured at something with animated enthusiasm.

The surge of fury that crashed over me was immediate and overwhelming.

But it was the man standing beside her that transformed my anger into something far more dangerous.

Antonio Montrosso leaned heavily on his walking stick, his weathered face bright with genuine affection as he listened to whatever story Aria was telling. There was unmistakable fondness in his expression, the kind of paternal warmth he typically reserved for blood family.

How the fuck did she know Antonio? And more importantly, what game was she playing?

"Damian?" Adriana's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You look absolutely furious. What's wrong?"

"Nothing that can't be handled," I replied, my voice deadly calm despite the rage burning in my chest. "Wait here. I need to pick up something from the bakery."

"The bakery? But we were just—"

I was already moving, crossing the street with predatory purpose. Every step fed the fire building in my chest. She wanted to play games? She wanted to test the boundaries of our arrangement? Perfect. I'd be happy to remind her exactly who held the power in this relationship.

The bell above the bakery door chimed softly as I entered, the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla doing nothing to soften my black mood. Aria's back was to me, but I watched her entire body go rigid the moment she heard that familiar sound.

She knew. Without even turning around, she knew I'd found her.

"Damian!" Antonio's voice boomed with genuine pleasure as he turned to greet me. "What a delightful surprise. Come, come, you must meet this charming young woman."

Aria turned slowly, her face pale as death, those amber eyes wide with terror and desperate pleading. She looked like a rabbit caught in a trap, which was exactly what she was.

"This is Aria Rossi," Antonio continued warmly, apparently oblivious to the tension crackling through the air. "Such a remarkable girl. Intelligent, compassionate, devoted to her sister's wellbeing. She reminds me so much of my dear Isabella—may she rest in peace."

The comparison to his late daughter-in-law was significant, and I filed that information away for future consideration. But right now, I had more pressing concerns.

"Aria Rossi," I repeated, extending my hand with calculated courtesy. "How lovely to make your acquaintance."

Her hand trembled as she placed it in mine, and I felt the rapid flutter of her pulse against my fingers. Good. She should be terrified.

"Mr. Cavalieri," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Please, call me Damian." My smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I feel like we're going to become very well acquainted."

Antonio beamed, apparently interpreting our exchange as the beginning of a delightful friendship rather than the dangerous game it actually was.

"Wonderful! You know, Damian, I was just telling Aria about the importance of celebrating life's milestones properly. Today is her twenty-first birthday, can you believe it? Such a significant age, and here she was, planning to spend it quietly visiting her sister in the hospital."

Her twenty-first birthday. The information hit me like a physical blow.

Not that it changed anything. If anything, it made her defiance more insulting. She'd chosen to spend this supposedly significant day running around Florence behind my back instead of honoring the agreement that had saved her sister's life.

"Twenty-one," I mused, my grip tightening slightly on her trembling hand. "Such an important birthday. It deserves proper celebration, don't you think?"

"I... I was just picking up some cake for Jessica," she stammered. "I wasn't planning anything elaborate."

"Nonsense," Antonio interjected. "A twenty-first birthday demands proper festivity. In fact..." His eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Damian, you mentioned you were attending tonight's gala with Adriana. Perhaps Aria would like to join you? It would be wonderful to have such lovely company, and what better way to celebrate reaching such a milestone?"

The suggestion hung in the air. I watched Aria's face cycle through horror, disbelief, and desperate panic as the implications sank in.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," she said quickly. "I don't have appropriate attire, and I'm sure Mr. Cavalieri already has his evening planned—"

"Actually," I interrupted smoothly, the perfect solution crystallizing in my mind, "I think that's a wonderful idea. Antonio, your granddaughter won't mind sharing the evening, will she? After all, it would be such a shame for a beautiful young woman to spend her birthday alone."

Through the bakery window, I could see Adriana's face contorting with barely controlled fury. She'd heard enough of our conversation to understand that her carefully planned evening was being disrupted, and she was clearly struggling to maintain her composure in public.

"I'm sure Adriana will be delighted," Antonio said with the confidence of a man accustomed to having his suggestions treated as commands. "She's always been generous about including others in her celebrations."

"But I have nothing to wear," Aria protested weakly, her last desperate attempt at escape.

"That's easily remedied," I replied, "Florence has excellent boutiques. I'm sure we can find something suitable for such a... special... young woman."

The emphasis on 'special' made her flinch, and I watched her realize that refusing wasn't really an option. Not unless she wanted me to explain to Antonio exactly what kind of 'special arrangement' we had between us.

"You're too kind," she whispered, the words sounding like they were being torn from her throat.

"Nonsense. Kindness has nothing to do with it. After all, what kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed a lovely young woman to spend her birthday unescorted? Especially one who's taken such... interesting... liberties with her afternoon plans."

The color drained from her face completely.

"Well then," Antonio said, clapping his hands together with obvious pleasure. "It's settled. Damian, you'll escort both young ladies to tonight's festivities. Aria, you'll finally get the proper birthday celebration you deserve."

"Thank you, Signor Montrosso," she managed, though her voice sounded hollow. "It's... it's very thoughtful of you."

"Not at all, my dear. Now, let's finalize this cake selection, shall we? We wouldn't want to keep the birthday girl waiting much longer."

As Antonio returned his attention to the confections, I leaned closer to Aria, my voice dropping to a whisper that only she could hear.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" The words were silk over steel. "Did you imagine you could violate our contract and there would be no consequences?"

"It's my birthday," she whispered back, a flash of defiance flickering in those amber eyes despite her terror. "I just wanted to see Jessica—"

"What you wanted," I cut her off quietly, "stopped mattering the moment you signed that contract. Tonight, you're going to learn exactly what happens when you forget your place."

Her breath caught.