Chapter 5 She Had A Secret

Zevan's gaze, sharp and intense like a hawk's, remained fixed on her in the dim light. He studied the girl beneath him, no older than twenty, her delicate eyebrows furrowed, confusion clouding her eyes. “If you won't make a sound... then don't blame me,” Zevan said, his voice low and commanding. With that, he pinched Minerva's waist once more. “Ah!” Minerva winced as a sharp pain shot through her waist, unable to suppress the cry. Does this mafia boss enjoy pinching people? Zevan's lips curved into a sly smile. “So, now you can make a sound, huh?” he remarked, his voice tinged with amusement. “Keep going, or I might just leave your waist bruised,” he warned, his tone cold and serious. Minerva's lashes fluttered in response. She knew he was serious. With a deep breath and her eyes tightly shut, she reluctantly complied and let out another yell. Outside, Dorothy let out a sigh of relief. “It seems my grandson is satisfied with his new bride. In the past, he would have outright rejected the girls sent to him, throwing them out without a second thought.” She was so happy that she practically danced with delight. After a moment, she left, her spirits lifted. The noise outside gradually faded, and Minerva seized the opportunity, pushing the man off her. This time, Zevan complied, stepping back and releasing her. With a soft click, he flicked on the wall light, illuminating the room. Minerva lifted her gaze to look at Zevan, who had already gotten out of bed. Under the bright light, she realized that the moonlight from the previous night had only revealed a fraction of his true allure. He was stunningly handsome, his features appearing as if meticulously sculpted by a divine artisan. Every movement he made carried an air of innate aloofness and cold nobility. Her pupils dilated slightly, and she couldn't help but think that the man standing before her was undoubtedly the most handsome she had ever seen. She found herself momentarily stunned by his presence. “You! Are you really... the Mafia boss of Hepham?” Minerva asked, still in disbelief. Zevan's thin lips curved into a smirk that was equal parts mocking and amused. “I doubt there's any fool bold enough to impersonate me.” A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes as he studied her. The butler had described the woman sent by the Somerville family for the arranged marriage as a coarse, unrefined country girl with a thick rural accent. But Minerva was far from what he'd expected. He noticed no trace of an accent in her speech, nor did he sense the roughness he'd been told to expect. Instead, there was an undeniable grace and composure to her, something refined, and an elegance that could easily belong to the highest echelons of society. To top it all off, she was exceptionally beautiful. Of course, there was something more critical. His instincts told him that this woman wasn't just a pretty face. She could handle guns and knives with the same skill as his own men. Minerva had a secret, and it intrigued him. Just then, a knock echoed through the room, followed by the voice of the butler, Francis Granger, from outside. “Sir,” he called. Zevan's lips parted slightly. “Come in.” Francis pushed the door open. “Sir, what should we do about the bride sent over by the Somerville family for the arranged marriage?” Zevan stood tall by the bed, his presence commanding attention. At nearly one hundred and ninety centimeters, his frame was imposing, yet he wore the simplest attire—a white shirt and black pants. Though basic in design, the clothes were tailored to perfection, enhancing his natural air of distinction and authority. He lowered his gaze, his fingers idly playing with the silver button on his cuff, his expression relaxed yet unreadable. With a casual glance at Minerva, he spoke. “You may not know this, but there are two wolves kept in the backyard of Twilight Garden. How about... we throw you in as their next meal?” A surge of anxiety gripped Minerva's chest. D*mn it, the rumors were wrong. This mafia leader doesn't have any twisted fetishes, but he is every bit as brutal and cold-blooded as they say. He's actually considering feeding his betrothed wife to the wolves. This arranged marriage had been orchestrated by the four prominent mafia families of Hepham: the Lemieux, Galletti, Hotchner, and Sullivan families. Logically, the Somerville family would have had no place in such an alliance—they were far too insignificant. However, years ago, a senior member of the Somerville family had entered politics, prompting the mafia to take notice of this seemingly minor clan. While the mafia families prioritized their own interests above all else, they understood that cultivating good relationships with local politicians could significantly enhance their operations. Thus, a marriage alliance was forged as the most expedient solution. The Somerville family had no choice but to comply. To refuse would place the head of the Somerville family in grave danger. The four prominent mafia families were open to selecting a new politician if needed, though the process would be a bit more cumbersome.