Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 199

199 /270

ASHER

Ariella is smiling. Really smiling.

Her hair is tucked behind one ear. Her hand gestures in midair as she talks, and then she laughs at something Maria says. That sound...God, that sound. I used to hear it in my dreams. I used to ache for it in the silence of every damn night.

And now it’s real. It’s here. She’s here, happy. I realise I want to keep her like this. Not just with me. Like this. Happy. Light. Unburdened. Always.

So even though I came down here to tell her to pack their bags, to come back with me, to return to the life I had planned for her… I know now she won’t be this happy there. That life was never hers. Maybe it never was mine either.

But I also can’t just leave her here. I guess… I can give her a few days. Let her breathe. Let her live.

I quietly open the front door, stepping out into the cool air. I close it just as quietly behind me.

One more day. I decide as I take a walk around the block. The air is a little stale, the sun lower now, and I can see some of the women lingering on corners, women who are not at speed. Of course, I wouldn’t bring Ariella here without security. Not entirely.

I wanted to go and see Christian. So I make a call at a nearby bar, and Christian comes over. From the moment he arrives, I can tell he’s a little nervous. I don’t know what that’s about yet.

I don’t offer him a drink. I just tell him to give me a short review of his time watching Ariella and He does.

He tells me about her timetable, her job as a librarian. He tells me about Maria and her obsession with the church. Even about the little guy whose name I’ve tried to forget, but now I know. Leon.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” I ask. “Anybody different? A bit out of the norm? Men around, someone harassing her?”

That’s when he swallows.

There’s something there. I know it instantly. I narrow my eyes. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Well… sorry,” he starts, his voice cautious. “Mr. Luca already took care of it.”

Still, I press. “What?”

He hesitates, then says, “There was this next-door neighbour…”

The moment he says that, I realise exactly where he’s going and I immediately dismiss him. I raise my hand. Enough.

My chest is burning. Not with fire, but with a slow, pulsing heat that spreads from somewhere deep, somewhere old. I want to call Luca. I want to shout at him for keeping something so huge from me. For thinking I wouldn't need to know.

But I don’t. Instead, I decide to go back to the house. Back to where she is. And maybe, just maybe, Ariella will say something.

I don’t shout. I don’t break the glass in my hand or throw the chair through the window, though every inch of me wants to. Wants to react.

Instead, I leave Christian at the bar without another word. He knows better than to follow me. I walk the same route back—past the cracked pavement and leaning fences, past women who pause their gossip just long enough to watch me pass. They don’t know me, not really, but they feel me. The way people feel the change in the air before a storm.

My jaw tightens as I reach the picket fence gate. I can still hear Christian’s voice echoing in my skull.

“The neighbour…”

He didn’t even say the man’s name, but I know. Of course I know. And now I wonder just how much of Ariella’s smile is hers… and how much of it this neighbour of hers is responsible for.