Betrothed To The Mafia Lord

Chapter 56

Luca’s POV

“Where’s Sofia?” I asked Sarah as I started to make my way out of the kitchen after I had made use of

my drugs and downed enough water into my body system.

I haven’t set eyes on her since I woke up this afternoon and an unusual feeling in my stomach was

suddenly wanting nothing more than for me to just set my eyes on her face and watch her eyelids

flutter a couple of times as color slowly bloomed into her cheeks.

“Oh, she’s upstairs, sitting on the balcony. Would you like me to get her for you?” Sarah replied

immediately, her face somehow lightening up by that question which I had asked her.

I shook my head instantly, already making my way out of the kitchen, “Nevermind, don’t think about it

anymore.”

I paused outside the kitchen’s doorway and contemplated asking Sarah how Sofia was doing and if her

injured arm was still hurting badly, and how she was fairing but thought better against it and nudged the

urge away, not wanting Sarah to start to suspect a thing concerning Sofia’s and I marriage. Because it

was most definitely going to sound weird and suspicious to her that I was asking her how my wife was

fairing instead of me asking Sofia directly like a normal husband was supposed to do.

But then, I wasn’t a normal husband. Never felt like a normal husband for a second since the start of

our marriage.

For one, a husband wouldn’t have gotten married to his wife in a crowd of three thousand people in

attendance and not consummate the marriage that same night, here in Italy. Which made me start to

wonder if Sarah had suspected if something had happened between Sofia and I on our wedding night

or not… because she hadn’t bled on the sheets that night like every bride was supposed to, here in

Italy.

It was one of the old beliefs that was just total bullshit. Not every girl bleeds at their first time having

sex, because obviously every girl’s bodies are different and does not work the same way.

But people were not ready to accept that piece of information yet.

I finally ended up moving away from the kitchen’s doorway and made my way directly towards the door

leading outside the house. I was met with Ethan, one of Sofia’s body guards outside the door along

with a few other guards.

“Where’s Ryan?” I asked Ethan after they’ve all greeted me a good afternoon, bowing their heads in

respect for a few seconds before lifting their heads back up.

“He’s inside the house, probably helping Mrs Ricci with something or…” Ethan started to say but I cut

into what he was saying along the way.

“He helps her with some things?” I asked confusingly, not knowing my little wife was already familiar

with her body guard’s already. I had thought it was going to take a month or more before she’d be able

to warm up to them and try to ask them for something by the shy and timid characteristics I’ve picked

off from her in waves, countless times.

I guess I was wrong… I had thought wrong?

“Uh, yeah. He helped with some of the settings of her new phone because some of the buttons were

quite complicated for her to understand.” Ethan continued to explain and I nodded my head once

before tapping him against his shoulders lightly and climbing down the small row of stairs. I didn’t know

how I was supposed to react to that, I mean, I knew nothing was going to happen to Sofia because her

two bodyguards were one of my most efficient bodyguards, I trusted them a lot, before I could be able

to assign them to watch over Sofia during the day.

But then why did I feel some weird feeling inside of my head after being informed that one of her

guards had helped her out with a difficulty she had been facing– her phone.

Christ, when did I start to really bother about these things?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I walked towards my car where my driver was already waiting in and tugged the back door open by

myself and settled into the back of the car just as the driver started the engine of the car.

“Good day, boss.” He greeted me without turning around and I nodded at him through the rear view

mirror.

“To the hospital.” I said to him before he could ask me of a particular destination and he started to pull

out of where he was parked in– just as the guard that follows this particular car– while the rest of the

guards tails ours in a different car– pulled open the side of the front door and got into the passenger’s

seat, breathing heavily and sounding ragged as he turned around in his seat and greeted me

respectively, his hair appearing wet as it fell over his face when he bowed his head a little in greetings

before apologizing for coming late.

“You look rough.” I stated, because he did. Which was very much unusual for him. He also almost

never arrive here late, he was on most times, already waiting before I’d be done with getting ready for

the day.

“It was because I had totally forgotten about you wanting to go out today, I thought you weren’t going to

leave the house today so I…” He started to say, breaking off his words and sounding really apologetic

and almost nervous.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” I said to him with a small wave of my hand and watched as he nodded his head

before turning back around in the front seat and settling his back against the backrest of the chair.

I dug out my phone from my pockets and turned my data on before placing it down on the seat beside

me, bracing myself for the amount of notifications that were going to spam into my phone all at once. I

hadn’t removed my phone from the silence setting which I had left it at last night, so I wasn’t bothered

about a thousand dings coming out of nowhere to fill up the whole car loudly.

I moved my foot a little in the car, brushing my hands on the material of my pants, brushing my fingers

over it and repeating the motion over and over again, trying to resist the urge to run my fingers through

the neatly, arranged curls on my head— an obsession of mine that I was really starting to think about

seriously and wonder if it wasn’t too obsessive of me to want to always run my fingers through the soft

curls.

I moved my foot in the car once again, changing their positions and stretching the first one out while the

second one stay folded against the seat I was currently sitting in. I glanced sideways at my phone and

noticed that the screen was still turned on and more messages were still coming in.

At this point I was going to have to get a new phone as well— and someone to handle my personal

social handles as well, it was now very obvious to me that I was way too busy for these shits. And most

importantly, I was going to hand over my current email address to my secretaries on Monday.

The amount of work I had already missed out on. The amount of appointments James would have to

reschedule, the amount of visits he’d have to put off for next week – because of my absence, was the

msin reason why I disliked taking breaks from the office. It always ends up drawing us back and

interfering with our other appointments for the next few weeks.

I also have a meeting with the generals and the people with titles and those on different high seats here

in my mafia, next week.

I had no idea about how I was going to juggle everything together next week without rubbing myself to

the ground once again… but I was going to end up finding a way, James was going to be a really great

help as usual.

I’d end up canceling huge appointments next week if I have to, I refuse to overwork myself next week, Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

a freaking few days after I was just starting to recover.

Now that I think about it, I really am an extremely busy man.

I picked up my phone and ignored the notifications and instead cleared everything up all at once,

steering clear off my email and other social media apps and heading straight into my iMessages.

There was a new message from an unknown number and I clicked on that message first, my curiosity

having no patience of any kind — which was because my phone number doesn’t get shared by

anyone, I’ve warned the people close to my circle about that and they knew just what I was trying to

avoid.

Unnecessary things. Lots of unnecessary things.

The messages were three in number and my eyes ghosted over it super fast, reading the messages all

at once — because they weren’t all that long each.

Hello Luca

Thanks for doing what you did for Aria.

Really appreciate it.

Æį’

What the fuck?

I thought to myself as I reread the text again and again, wondering who it was that had sent this

message and how whoever the person was knew about what had happened.

And most importantly, how they got my private phone number… where they got it from…

Luca: Who the fuck are you?

I typed the message in and was about to hit on the send button when a thought occurred to me, urging

me not to send the message, and after I thought about it for a few minutes, I deleted the typed

message and existed the stranger’s direct messages, before proceeding to scroll through my list of

messages.

I clicked on that of James and as expected, got met with a ton of unread messages which he had been

sending since yesterday’s afternoon when I had been in the car, while following the trail we had found,

thanks to her phone.

Which reminds me… where was the damn phone?

Could it be that it has fallen off her in the room where she had been held hostage, in the house of Ivan

and his brother’s.

Or it could have been in one of her pants pockets? I reminded myself to ask the nurse at the hospital

today if she had seen any phone call of Aria's body while undressing her.

I started to type a message to James, a second later and sending the message over once I was done

typing.

Luca: Hey man, I’m sorry I ignored your bunch of messages here.

I waited for a reply, knowing one was coming as soon as possible because it was James and James

was with his phone a lot, almost never turning off his data on most days.

Like I had guessed right, he started to type in a reply, a few minutes later.

James: I wouldn’t dismiss it like it’s fine, because it isn’t.

I rolled my eyes as my eyes ghosted over his messages, just as the three dots appeared on his side of

the message box, showing that he was typing in a reply again.

James: You have better have a good excuse. Also, most importantly, how’s your sick ass doing?

I cracked a small laugh as I started to type in a reply almost immediately.

Luca: I still feel sick, but I’ll live. And yes, the excuse isn’t even an excuse, it’s something really huge.

Can you come to the hospital today? I’ll tell you about everything there.

I sent in the reply and glanced towards the front of the car, noticing that we were in a little bit of traffic. I

lifted my right hand absentmindedly and was about to dig my fingers into my hair before remembering

at the very last second and pulling my fingers back down, pressing them down on my thighs and

scratching lightly against the warm material of my suit pants, the hard muscles in my thighs pressing

into the tip of my fingers– a sharp contrast to the warm, soft and silky curls of my hair which I wanted to

badly feel against my fingers.

Of everything to unconsciously get obsessed with, it just had to be my hair.

Yeah, I knew my hair was perfect… but getting obsessed with it was just too much.

I think I have a problem.