Chapter 112 112

Chapter 112 112

Later that evening, Yuki stood in front of the mirror in her suite as the maid finished adjusting the red gown.

The dress was stunning — a deep crimson color that hugged her figure with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt that fell elegantly to the floor.

The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, with a modest neckline and long sleeves that gave it a sophisticated, almost regal look.

Her makeup was soft but striking — dark red lips, smoky eyes, and a light blush that highlighted her features. Her hair was styled in loose waves, falling over one shoulder.

“You’re done, Miss.” The maid stepped back and smiled.

Yuki looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back — elegant, beautiful, but also like someone else entirely.

Another maid knocked softly on the door. “Sir Stefano is downstairs.”

Yuki took a deep breath, grabbed her small clutch with her new phone, and left the room. She descended the grand staircase slowly, the red gown swaying with each step.

Stefano stood at the bottom, waiting. His eyes never left her as she came down.

The same intense feeling he had when he first saw her five years ago hit him all over again — that quiet, pink-haired girl from the orphanage had grown into this breathtaking woman.

He was in love. Deeply, obsessively in love.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Stefano stepped forward.

“You look incredible,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Yuki gave a small nod. “Thanks. The gown is pretty.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” He replied, a faint smile on his lips.

She looked at him. “Where are we going?”

“I made reservations,” he said. “You’ll love it there.”

She nodded. He extended his hand. She hesitated for a second before placing her palm on his.

Stefano pulled her gently closer and placed his other hand on her waist. Yuki gasped softly at the sudden closeness.

“Stefano,” she said quietly.

“Thank you, Yuki,” he murmured, looking down at her. “For agreeing to this date with me.”

She met his eyes. “It’s just this once. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen again.”

“We’ll see about that.” Stefano’s smile didn’t fade.

He held her hand properly now, fingers intertwined, and led her out of the house toward the waiting car.

\---

The restaurant stretched out like a shadowed kingdom under the dim glow of chandeliers.

Yuki stepped inside beside Stefano, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and a quiet unease settled in her chest. The place was empty, just the faint hum of classical music drifting from hidden speakers and the weight of his presence at her side.

"Why is it empty?" She asked as she scanned the room.

Stefano's hand rested lightly on the small of her back, a possessive touch that sent an unwelcome spark up her spine. He was all sharp lines in his tailored black suit, his dark eyes gleaming with that unyielding confidence.

"I reserved the entire restaurant," he stated, as if it were nothing. As if clearing out a high-end venue for one evening was a casual gesture.

Yuki halted, turning to face him fully. Her pulse quickened, a mix of irritation and disbelief churning inside her. This was supposed to be... what? An attempt at normalcy in their twisted arrangement?

"Was that necessary? It's just a date, Stefano. Or whatever this is."

His expression remained composed, those intense eyes locking onto hers.

"It's not just a date to me," he said, his voice low and edged with something darker—determination, perhaps. "This is me making an effort, Yuki. In an arranged marriage like ours, effort matters. I won't give up easily."

She swallowed hard, fighting the flush that threatened her cheeks. Arranged. The word still tasted bitter on her tongue. She knows she came to this date out of her own free will, but it's not like he's going to stop nagging if she refuses.

Doesn't change the fact that this man had been thrust into her life like a chain. And yet, here he was, orchestrating solitude like it could rewrite their reality.

Part of her wanted to push back harder, to remind him that flowers and empty rooms wouldn't erase the cage. But another part, buried deep, noted the flicker of something almost human in his gaze.

He was trying. She hated how it unsettled her.

Before she could respond, a waitress appeared, her movements efficient and deferential. "Mr. de Luca, welcome. Your table is ready." She led them to the center, where a single setup waited.

They sat, and the staff moved like ghosts: plates of appetizers arriving seamlessly, followed by rich mains—tender steak, creamy risotto infused with truffle.

One server approached with a massive bouquet of red tulips, their petals bold and unyielding, and handed it to Stefano.

"For you," he said, extending the arrangement toward her. His fingers brushed hers as she accepted it.

Yuki placed the bouquet on the chair beside her, inhaling their subtle scent. It was beautiful.

"They're nice," she said flatly, meeting his eyes.

He watched her closely as they ate, his posture relaxed but his attention razor-sharp.

"Do you like the food?" he asked, a hint of satisfaction threading through his tone when she took another bite.

He seemed pleased, as if each small approval was a victory in his campaign to crack her resistance.

She cleared her throat, setting her fork down with deliberate calm. "Stefano."

"Yeah?" He leaned forward slightly, expectant.

She held his gaze, refusing to waver. "What exactly is the Mafia about? Your world. My family. I need to know the truth."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. He hadn't expected her to demand it here.
"You really want to know? Now?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach. "It's not like I have a choice.”

Stefano reached for her hand across the table, but she kept it there—neither pulling away nor fully yielding. His touch was warm, firm, a reminder of the power he wielded.

"The Mafia isn't some street gang with delusions of grandeur," he began, his tone measured. "It's structure. Legacy. The Sanzone name commands respect because we've built it on loyalty and strength. We control territories, businesses—legitimate and otherwise.”

“Protection rackets, influence in high places, alliances forged in blood. It's a world where family isn't just blood; it's survival. Betray us, and the consequences are swift. Cross us..." He let the implication hang, his thumb tracing a slow line over her knuckles, possessive even now.

Yuki's stomach twisted. She pulled her hand back slightly, eyes narrowing. "That's just a crime with a fancy name, Stefano. Extortion, violence, whatever else you hide behind 'honor' and 'family.' It's dirty. Corrupt. How do you justify dragging me into this?"

"In our world, there are no innocents untouched by the game. As an heir, you'll have to prove yourself one day. Not as some fragile ornament, but as part of the Sanzone line. It demands strength. Bloodshed, if necessary. A time will come when hesitation gets you or us killed."

"Proving myself... does that involve hurting someone?" Her breath hitched, but she pressed on.

"Yes. And not merely hurting. Killing. When the family requires it. When foes circle like vultures." Stefano's gaze didn't waver.

Shock slammed into her, cold and visceral. She stared at him, the tulips forgotten beside her, their red petals suddenly too vivid—like blood.

"I can't do that. Stefano, I can't kill someone. That's insane. This whole thing—"

"You have to understand, Yuki." He cut in. "In la Cosa Nostra, there are only two kinds of people, allies and foes. You trust your allies without question—they are your shield, your empire. And you eliminate your foes ruthlessly, before they strike first. Mercy is a luxury we can't afford."

"This doesn't change anything," she whispered, more to herself than him, her fingers clenching in her lap.

Yuki's mind reeled, arguments burning on her tongue.

Part of her recoiled in horror at the casual way he spoke of death.