The Mafia Devil in My Inbox Chapter 03
I spent the entire day distracted.
Even when Inferno messaged me, I couldn’t bring myself to reply right away.
After forcing myself to finish revising the project proposal, I dragged myself home in a daze.
My phone was full of messages from him.
“Angel, what are you doing?”
“Baby, why aren’t you answering me?”
“Angel, you’ve been acting strange today. Did I do something wrong?”
My fingers trembled as I typed: “Helldog, are you hiding something from me?”
Inferno replied instantly: “No, Angel. I always answer your questions honestly.”
Another message followed: “Baby, did I do something to upset you?”
“No.”
I stared at the screen and tried to calm my racing thoughts.
If Inferno really was Orlando, then I needed to figure out two things.
First, was he cheating?
Second, who exactly was the “babe” he’d been talking to?
What if I’d misunderstood everything?
A new message appeared.
“Oh, right, Baby. Tom Ford’s new collection just dropped. Can you help me pick something? I need to wear it tomorrow.”
I deliberately chose an oatmeal-colored sweater with a logo embroidered on the left chest. It would be easy to recognize.
Deep down, I was still clinging to a tiny shred of hope.
If Orlando wasn’t wearing that sweater tomorrow, then maybe he wasn’t Inferno after all. And I wouldn’t have to wonder whether my online boyfriend was cheating on me.
The next morning, I walked into Orlando’s office carrying the revised proposal.
Orlando was sitting on the sofa, sipping coffee. And he was wearing the exact sweater I’d picked.
The oatmeal-colored Tom Ford sweater.
It practically glowed in my eyes.
“Don Riccardi, the proposal has been revised.”
Orlando smiled warmly, “Thank you, Hannah.”
He set down his coffee, “Don DeLorenzo will be visiting this afternoon. Make sure everything is ready.”
“I will.”
My gaze drifted back to the sweater.
Trying to sound casual, I said, “I’ve never seen you wear that sweater before, Don Riccardi. It looks good on you.”
Orlando chuckled, “I bought it yesterday.”
My heart sank. That only convinced me further that Orlando was Inferno.
After leaving his office, I couldn’t stop glancing toward it.
Yesterday, Orlando had mentioned that his “babe” would be visiting today. I desperately wanted to know who she was.
Because if my suspicions were correct, then this relationship needed to end.
An hour later, a woman with long golden curls and striking green eyes walked straight into Orlando’s office.
She wore a black leather tube top and enough confidence to own the building.
Lydia Lane.
The daughter of a Chicago mafia Don.
An engagement ring glittered on her finger.
I hadn’t known she was Orlando’s fiancée.
Pretending I needed coffee, I walked past Orlando’s office. Laughter drifted through the partially open door.
“Babe, I missed you.”
Lydia’s voice was sweet, “That sweater looks amazing on you. Oatmeal is definitely your color.”
Orlando’s voice softened, “As long as you like it.”
“This was actually picked out especially for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“We’re meeting your parents, aren’t we? I want to make a good impression.”
Lydia laughed, “As if you need to worry. If I love you, my parents will too.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
So that was it.
He’d asked me to help choose his clothes because he was meeting his fiancée’s parents. Then what was I?
A secret side piece? A joke? A distraction?
Before I could think twice, I pulled out my phone and typed a message: “You’re a terrible person. We’re done.”
Then I immediately blocked and deleted Inferno.
No hesitation. No second chances.
A few minutes later, Orlando walked out holding Lydia’s hand.
He watched her leave. There wasn’t a trace of sadness on his face.
At that moment, I felt like the biggest fool alive.
Every conversation we’d shared over the last five months flashed through my mind. The memories left a bitter ache in my chest. The only thing I could be grateful for was that I’d used a fake account.
Otherwise, this humiliation would have been unbearable.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself of something important.
If I couldn’t have love, then I’d focus on work.
I wasn’t Blair Waldorf. I wasn’t Cinderella waiting to become a princess. And someone like me would never become his Donna.
I was an ordinary employee with debt hanging over my head.
I was a rational woman. There was no way I was quitting my job over some failed online romance.
I still had money to repay.
That afternoon, a message from Orlando appeared on my screen.
“Hannah, Don DeLorenzo has reviewed your proposal. He thinks it’s promising. Come in and walk us through it.”
I straightened my shoulders and gathered myself before heading to the office.
When I entered, Orlando smiled, “Hannah, this is Don DeLorenzo. Dante, this is Hannah.”
Then he added, “Don’t be nervous. Just explain your ideas.”
I ignored Orlando and looked toward the man seated on the sofa.
At the exact same moment, his gaze met mine.
Unlike Orlando’s effortless playboy charm, Dante DeLorenzo carried himself with a cold, untouchable elegance.
There was something regal about him. Something dangerous.
He didn’t look like a mafia Don.
He looked like a king.
