The Mafia's Pet: Pawn Of The Ruthless ( A Dark Romance)

The conference hall buzzed with murmurs as Aemilio took the stage, the lights casting a warm glow over the sleek lines of his suit. Evangelina stood at the side, a tumult of emotions tightening her stomach. She hadn't wanted to come, yet here she was, feeling like an accessory to whatever narrative Aemilio was about to spin. Her thoughts raced back to his words from earlier, the uncertainty laced in every syllable, the guilt shadowing his gaze. And now, she was expected to stand beside him, to play a role in his world.

Aemilio cleared his throat, and the whispers gradually faded, the audience's eyes fixed on him.

"I appreciate you all joining us today," he began, his voice steady and commanding, betraying none of the storm she knew he carried beneath the surface. His eyes briefly met hers, softening just for a moment. "I want to address something important. There's been...some speculation recently about my personal life. I understand that these rumors have created quite a stir, and it's only fair to set the record straight."

He paused, letting the silence amplify his words. The entire room seemed to lean forward, caught in his intensity.

"Evangelina," he said, gesturing for her to join him. Her heart pounded as she walked over, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. "This is my wife." His words were clear and firm, each syllable resounding like a heartbeat. "The stories you've heard are nothing more than rumors, fabricated nonsense. Whoever's spreading them is, frankly, jealous and bitter."

Evangelina's breath hitched, her mind struggling to process the unexpected turn. She barely had a moment to react before Aemilio turned toward her, his expression unreadable. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek, his lips warm against her skin. The world seemed to stop as her eyes widened, shock rendering her motionless. He pulled back, his arm sliding around her waist, a reassuring yet possessive gesture.

"Thank you all for your time," he said, his voice still smooth, as if none of this affected him. "We have nothing further to say."

They turned to leave, the crowd's hushed murmurs filling the space behind them. Once they exited the hall and found a quiet corner, Evangelina looked at him, struggling to find her voice. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though the kiss had chipped away the last barrier she had.

"Aemilio..." she began softly, her words laced with uncertainty. "Was any of that...real?"

He gave a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Don't let it get to you," he murmured, his tone reassuring yet distant. "These rumors...they're just noise. I'll handle everything. You don't need to worry."

Her chest tightened, a complex blend of relief and sadness swirling within her. She yearned to believe him, to take comfort in his words, yet the emptiness in his eyes gnawed at her heart. Unable to hold back, she reached for him, her arms wrapping around his torso as she buried her face against his chest.

Her grip tightened, desperation lacing her touch as if trying to hold onto something that felt increasingly elusive. Silent sobs wracked her body, and she felt Aemilio's arms slowly circle around her, his embrace gentle yet hesitant. He stroked her back, murmuring soothing words she could barely hear, his fingers tracing soft patterns meant to calm.

She let herself sink into the moment, feeling a fragile peace as he held her, even if it was just an illusion. Yet, as her breathing steadied, a flicker of doubt settled within her. In his arms, she felt cherished, protected—but deep down, she could sense the chasm between them. Despite his gentle hold, she knew he didn't love her, not truly.

Aemilio drew back slightly, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he looked into her eyes. "Evangelina," he began, his tone gentle yet careful, as if choosing each word with deliberate caution. "I promise, soon everything will be back to normal. You won't have to worry about any of this."

She searched his face, her eyes pleading for something more. "Normal," she echoed softly. "What does that even mean for us?"

He looked away, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her. "It means no more rumors, no more drama," he replied, his voice cool. "We can go back to our lives."

Her heart sank at his words. *Our lives*, he'd said, as though they were somehow separate even when standing together. She bit her lip, summoning the courage to voice the question gnawing at her heart.

"Aemilio...was it really all just for show?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, each word weighted with vulnerability. "When you said I was your wife, when you...kissed me...was that only for them?"

For a moment, silence filled the space between them, stretching painfully. His gaze softened, a flicker of conflict flashing in his eyes. But he quickly masked it, his face settling into a calm neutrality.

"We did what was necessary," he replied, his tone firm yet devoid of warmth. "Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices to protect what's important."

She swallowed, the sting of his words sharp. "Sacrifices..." she whispered, feeling the ache bloom within her. "And what am I to you, Aemilio? A sacrifice?"

His jaw clenched, his composure faltering for a brief instant. He reached out, his hand grazing her arm before dropping away. "Evangelina, don't make this harder than it has to be. I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough?"

She let out a shaky breath, her emotions raw and exposed. She wanted to scream, to make him understand the depth of her feelings, the pain of his indifference. Instead, she looked down, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought...maybe for once, it could be real."

A hint of frustration flickered in his eyes, and he took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Evangelina, please. Don't torture yourself over this. I care about you...in my own way."

The words felt like a final blow, shattering the fragile hope she had clung to. She forced a small, bitter smile, nodding as if accepting his version of care. But inside, her heart broke a little more, piece by piece.

"Thank you, Aemilio," she said, her voice carrying a new, distant calm. "I understand."

Before he could respond, she slipped away, retreating to her room. Alone, she leaned against the closed door, allowing the tears she had held back to flow freely. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the ache deepen, the weight of his indifference settling like a stone in her heart.

---

The next morning, Evangelina found herself standing in front of her mirror, her fingers trailing over the soft orange fabric of the dress he had given her. The memories of his touch, his kiss, all mingled in her mind, a bittersweet reminder of what they shared—if it could even be called that. She straightened, her reflection gazing back at her, resolute.

*Aemilio may never love me the way I love him*, she realized, her heart aching with the thought. But she was done waiting for him to validate her worth. With a steadying breath, she lifted her chin, a glint of determination in her eyes. She had spent enough time tangled in the shadows of his life, bound by his indifference.

It was time to reclaim herself, to step forward into her own story, with or without him.