Sweet Encounter: Marrying The Strongest Mafia

I simply smiled, smoothed down my dress, and walked toward the door. Let her wonder. Let her worry.

I stepped out of the restroom into the dim lighting of the club. My heels clicked against the polished floor as I made my way toward the dance floor. A familiar silhouette caught my eye - Primo, leaning against one of the ornate pillars, his attention fixed on me.

His eyes widened when he spotted me. "Asteria? I thought you were still..." He gestured vaguely toward the booth.

"Changed my mind." I kept my voice light, casual.

"Then perhaps you'll finally honor me with a dance?" He extended his hand, a practiced smile playing on his lips. "We should celebrate. After all, in a month's time..."

I caught the calculated glint in his eye. The same look he'd given me countless times before, when he thought he held all the cards.

"Of course," I matched his fake warmth with my own. "How could I refuse?"

A flash of movement behind me drew his attention. Yesha emerged from the restroom, her face transforming from surprise to something darker when she saw us together.

"Oh, you simply must let me get you both a drink first!" Yesha's voice dripped with honey as she flagged down a passing server. She grabbed two champagne flutes, turning back toward us with exaggerated care.

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Yesha's heel "caught" on an invisible snag in the floor. She stumbled forward, the golden liquid arcing through the air in a perfect trajectory. The champagne splashed across the front of my dress, the cold liquid seeping through the expensive fabric.

"Oh no!" Yesha's hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. "I'm so terribly sorry! How clumsy of me."

I'd had enough. The champagne dripped down my dress, but my patience had evaporated faster. My hand struck Yesha's face with a crack that echoed through the club. She spun from the force, dropping to the floor with theatrical flair.

"You crazy bitch!" Yesha pressed her hand to her reddening cheek.

Primo rushed to her side, helping her up. "What the hell is wrong with you?" His face contorted with rage as he turned to me.

"Primo, please." Yesha clung to his arm. "She's obviously unstable. I shouldn't have provoked her. This is all my fault." Her voice quivered with practiced vulnerability.

The music had stopped. Dozens of eyes locked onto our little drama, whispers rippling through the crowd.

"No one treats her like this." Primo's hand shot up, ready to strike.

I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

But the blow never came. A firm grip caught Primo's wrist mid-swing.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Adrian's voice cut through the tension, cool and controlled.

Primo's head snapped around. "Who are you? This doesn't concern you."

Adrian released Primo's wrist with deliberate slowness. The tension crackled between them as he stepped between us, his broad shoulders blocking Primo from view.

"Are you alright?" Adrian's gray eyes met mine, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "I can handle this, but something tells me you'd prefer to take care of it yourself."

I blinked, caught off guard by this stranger's perceptiveness. We'd only met minutes ago, yet here he stood, defending me while respecting my agency. The champagne still dripped from my dress, but I straightened my spine.

"I've got this." I gave him a small nod.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Primo's voice rose behind Adrian.

"Just someone who believes a gentleman should never raise his hand to a lady." Adrian's tone remained maddeningly calm. "But I'll let Miss Mitchell handle this situation as she sees fit."

Yesha clutched Primo's arm tighter, her eyes darting between us. "Primo, who is this man?"

"I don't know." Primo's jaw clenched. "And I don't care. This is a private matter."

I caught the barely perceptible quirk of Adrian's lips as he stepped aside, giving me the floor while remaining close enough to intervene if needed. The gesture spoke volumes, he wasn't here to play hero, just to ensure a fair fight.

"You know what's funny, Primo?" My voice carried across the now-silent club. "I know about you and Yesha. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

The color drained from his face. His eyes darted to Yesha, who gave him a small nod.

"You're only marrying me to merge the families." I smoothed my champagne-soaked dress. "Tell me, how long were you planning to keep me around after the papers were signed?"

Yesha leaned close to Primo's ear. "She knows everything," she whispered, loud enough for those nearest to hear.

Adrian's eyebrows shot up as he watched the scene unfold. Around us, the crowd pressed closer, phones appearing in hands, eager to catch every word of this public spectacle.

Primo's jaw worked back and forth. His eyes scanned the growing audience, recognition flickering across his features as he spotted several prominent family associates among them.

"This is clearly a misunderstanding." He forced a laugh, adjusting his tie. "We should discuss this in private, Asteria. Away from prying eyes."

"Why? Scared of what else I might say?"

"Enough." His voice dropped low, dangerous. "We'll talk about this later. This isn't the place."

Primo grabbed Yesha's arm and started to pull her away, his other hand extended toward me in a placating gesture. "We'll sort this out. Privately."