Accidentally Yours Chapter 2 Part 3
CHAPTER 2 · PART THREE
Accidentally Yours
It wasn’t a stretch. It was the right time by Mafia standards. But hearing it aloud felt like a weight pressing harder on my chest.
“Her Papa just said the same thing,” Nadia added, her smile widening.
“Yeah, everyone’s gaze has been on us,” Angelo said casually, though the pink flush rising to his cheeks betrayed him.
“I hope everything goes well.”
The translation was precise: It’s happening, and soon.
I blew out a breath, careful to keep my expression neutral. I wouldn’t recover for the rest of the evening if my nerves overflowed now.
Thankfully, the conversation shifted to safer topics. Nadia asked Angelo about his time at Oxford, and he lit up, describing the more innocent parts of his college life. His eyes sparkled as he talked about endless night classes, the one terrifying professor who somehow passed most of his students, and cafeteria food that wasn’t terrible but would never compare to his mother’s cooking.
“And, of course,” he added with a sly glance, “I missed my best friend, Diana.”
Best friend? I nearly scoffed. He hadn’t called, texted, or written even once in four years. Best friend indeed.
“Whew,” Angelo said, finally finishing his story. “I have too much to tell, but it was a great experience.”
“Yes, I agree. An experience that turned you into a man, and now you’re about to marry the love of your life,” Nadia said, her tone dripping with satisfaction.
Was this how they wanted to paint the picture? That we were in love with each other?
The blush that stained Angelo’s face was immediate. I could almost hear the imaginary gasp from every made man in the room. Blushing wasn’t just frowned upon in Mafia culture—it was practically a crime.
And yet, that blush made me smile. It reminded me why Angelo was different. He was kind and warm, and unlike many of the hardened men in our world, he didn’t wear his masculinity like armor.
Papa’s voice floated into my mind, a memory from when I was eight. That was the first time I’d heard the maids whispering that I’d been betrothed to Angelo.
I’d run to Papa’s room in tears, terrified of marrying a boy I barely liked. He comforted me, holding me close before saying softly, “He’s going to make a good husband one day, Dina. I’m sure of it.”
At the time, I didn’t believe him. Angelo was thirteen and perpetually grumpy. But now? Papa had been right. Angelo was a good man.
I should’ve felt lucky. Papa had made sure I would marry someone kind, someone who respected me. But I couldn’t shake the ache in my chest. Angelo had gone to Oxford, traveled the world, and experienced so much more than I ever could.
And now I was supposed to marry him and settle into a life I hadn’t entirely chosen.
“Come on, let’s go dance. We’ve been here forever,” Angelo said, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts as one of the senators took his mom’s attention away.
I gave him my hand, and he whisked me to the dance floor. Everyone’s eyes were on us, and they liked what they saw.
The way we moved together and our chemistry were undeniable, even if it wasn’t romantic yet. If it wasn’t clear before, it was clear now.
We were going to become the Italian Bratva’s golden couple.
And I’d just have to suck it up for a while.