Married to Mafia Boss novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Alia POV

‘Insert the fork here, push firmly, and the prawn meat comes right out.”

I taught diligently, and after succeeding, I looked proudly at my student, only to discover that he hadn’t been paying attention to the lesson at all.

Marco had been watching me the entire time, his gaze unwavering. We flickering.

His stare made me self–conscious. I quickly turned away, pretending to

were so close that I could see myself reflected in his eyes–cheeks flushed, eyes

Before I could finish, Marco, who had been sitting still for so long, sudd

composed as I said, “That’s how you do it…”

planted a light kiss on my cheek.

Cold lips against soft skin, like a dragonfly touching water–brief and fleeting.

Yet it felt incredibly hot and tingling. The spot he touched seemed to burn, the heat penetrating to my bones.

“Weren’t we supposed to be eating prawns?” I covered my burning face, pretending to be angry.

Marco raised an eyebrow, the playfulness in his eyes unmistakable, dancing with a hint of smugness. With a straight face, he said, “Alia, you’re more delicious than the prawns.”

Ah, this man is at it again, not leaving me in peace even during a meal.

I glared at Marco and huffily returned to my seat. Annoyed, I no longer cared about my appearance and grabbed the Sicilian prawns from my plate, devouring them with gusto.

Unexpectedly, before I could calm my emotions about the stolen kiss, the serious–faced man across from me smiled and placed several peeled Sicilian prawns on my plate.

“I peeled these for you,” Marco said with a smile, as if apologizing for his sudden kiss.

These prawns were peeled so perfectly that I didn’t know how to react to Marco, so I just kept my head down and continued eating.

Efter

another.

Meanwhile, Marco sat nearby, smiling, silently peeling one prawn

After a while, Marco said, “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to get fitted for formal attire.”

My body tensed. Was he planning a wedding?

No, I really didn’t care about a wedding and didn’t want one.

I want to take you to a gala,” he clarified.

I was nibbling on the last prawn and blinked in confusión.

A gala? What for?”

Marco elegantly wiped his hands with a wet towel, then looked directly into my eyes and smiled, “To tell everyone in Portano that you are Mrs. Vittorio.

His eyes were filled with nothing but me, and I was already deeply entranced.

The next day after work, Marco took me to choose an evening gown.

Since the gala wouldn’t begin until nine o’clock, Marco first took me to the Ritz Hotel to have something light to eat.

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Chapter 75

However, I was not very cooperative with Marco. I didn’t eat a single bite, just holding a glass of lemon water and sipping it slowly.

At the table, Marco, who was elegantly eating his meal, looked at me with displeasure as I only drank lemon water. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

I glanced at the table full of delicious dishes and stubbornly said, “I’m really not hungry.”

“Hmm?” Marco raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me.

Knowing I couldn’t hide the truth, 1 shook my head and admitted honestly, “I’d rather not. Evening gowns are so unforgiving. What if I eat too much and show up with a bloated stomach? Wouldn’t that embarrass you?”

Hearing this, Marco gave a barely perceptible smile: “I wouldn’t mind.”

He spoke with such sincerity that I couldn’t help but laugh and asked in return, “Then what if someday I become ugly and old? Would you mind me then?”

At my words, Marco paused slightly, then furrowed his brow, genuinely contemplating the question.

Becoming ugly, growing old.

Looking at me smiling brightly across from him, Marco seemed to have difficulty imagining me old and ugly.

But what if I really did grow old and ugly?

“Taking so long to answer–so you would mind?” I asked, feigning disappointment as Marco remained silent.

“No, I wouldn’t, Marco quickly answered this time. “I’m older than you. By the time your temples turn gray, I’ll already have white hair. He paused, then looked straight into my eyes and said, “Growing old together sounds nice.”

Sounds nice.

That’s what he said, but I understood the meaning behind his words-

When your temples turn gray, I will have white hair. Together in–life and death, never parting, never abandoning each other. That sounds nice.

I smiled softly, feeling warmth spread through my heart, and responded quietly, “Yes.”

Since I wasn’t eating, Marco quickly finished his meal, and taking my hand, we headed to the dress shop.

The driver, Salvatore, drove steadily, and about half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a villa without any signage.

It was an isolated villa with no neighbors around. In a crowded city like Portano, such a solitary building was uncommon.

The villa was built in Italian Gothic style, with distinctive ribbed vaults and stained glass windows forming the main decorative elements.

There was no nameplate or sign on the main door of the villa. Without guidance, one would never guess this villa was a private fashion design studio.

I used to study fashion design, and although I left the field because of past events, it remained my passion, so I always paid extra attention to this industry.

I knew all the fashion studios in Portano like the back of my hand, along with each studio’s distinctive style. But I had never heard of this particular studio.

Marco took my hand and pushed open the villa’s front door.

As soon as we entered, I was startled by the luxurious interior. I looked at Marco with some unease. With such magnificent interior design, even the smallest item here must be expensive, right?

Marco sensed my thoughts and reassuringly held my hand tighter, saying softly, “Eternal Promise, this place belongs to a friend of mine.”

I felt somewhat relieved and was about to say something when a young French girl dressed in Gothic style approached us. She appeared to be only seventeen or eighteen, with features as delicate and charming as a doll.

Chapter 75

She first curtseyed to Marco, her posture as elegant as a princess.

The girl smiled and said, ‘Good evening, Mr. Vittorio.”

“Hello, Marco nodded slightly, responding politely.

The beautiful French girl then turned to me, also curtseying, and said in broken English with a foreign accent, “Mrs. Vittorio, hello.”

Alia smiled politely and kindly: “Hello!”

The girl seemed to like me, her smile growing brighter as she looked at me: “My name is Mifiea. Today, I will take you to choose clothes.”

Mifiea’s smile was friendly and endearing.

Mifiea led Marco and Alia further inside.

The villa was spacious, with various famous paintings hanging on the walls. The rooms were filled with art pieces rich in historical significance. The entre villa didn’t resemble a fashion studio so much as a museum, with every corner showcasing the owner’s profound cultural depth.

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