The Mafia Donna’s Bridal Escape Night Chapter 02

The Mafia Donna’s Bridal Escape Night Chapter 02

“Lyra Conti, welcome to the Bridal Escape Night!”

The room was beautifully done.

White roses covered every wall. A champagne tower glowed under warm amber light. Across from the door, a screen cycled through photos of me and Joren from the past four years.

The last one was him on one knee, proposing.

The screen flickered, and Liora appeared on it, blowing a whistle at me.

“Ready?”

Even through the screen, I could hear the cheering on the other side.

Joren sat dead center, collar unbuttoned, whiskey in hand.

The people around him were practically all Ashford family kids who’d grown up together.

The card table was already heaped with black-and-gold chips.

Someone had bet I’d be crying within ten minutes of being locked in.

Someone else bet I wouldn’t answer a single question right and would be stuck in there all night.

The tallest stack of chips sat on one option:

[No matter how hard the game gets, Lyra won’t cancel the wedding.]

I pushed the door.

It didn’t budge.

Electronic magnetic lock. No mechanical bolt visible in the door seam.

A security camera blinked red in the corner. The emergency call button that should have been by the door was hidden behind a cluster of white roses.

I pushed the flowers aside and pressed the button.

Nothing.

A hesitant voice came through the intercom.

“Mr. Ashford, maybe we should shut this down? This escape room hasn’t passed its final safety inspection. It wasn’t supposed to be in use tonight…”

“Relax. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Joren’s tone was flat. “Kill the intercom. If anything goes wrong, that’s on me.”

The indicator light on the button went dark.

The game had officially begun.

The first question appeared on the screen.

[What is Joren Ashford’s favorite color?]

“Black.” I didn’t hesitate.

His closet was almost entirely black. His car. His suits. Even the bedding in our bedroom. Black.

The next second, a piercing alarm blared.

[Wrong Answer]

Red letters filled the entire screen.

Watching my stunned expression, Liora gloated. “The correct answer is navy blue.”

“For Joren’s eighteenth birthday, I bought him his first car. That exact color.”

“A bet’s a bet. Time for your penalty.”

A hidden compartment popped open in the wall. Inside sat a glass of something murky.

I looked at it. Didn’t touch it.

“Lyra—”

Liora stretched my name out. “You don’t drink, the door doesn’t open. You’re not going to make everyone sit here all night waiting on you, are you?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall.

Eight twenty-two.

Joren’s impatient voice came through. “Stalling is pointless. You want to drag this out all night? Make Grandma Elise wait up all night worrying about you?”

My heart clenched.

I didn’t even know if someone had brought her the medication. I didn’t want her sitting alone, anxious, waiting for me until the middle of the night. And I didn’t want to keep being a spectacle for a room full of people watching me through a screen.

I picked up the glass and took a sip.

The drink was overloaded with sweet syrup, something sharp underneath, hiding a faint burnt-caramel edge.

I forced it down past the burn in my throat.

“Next question.”

The screen lit up again.

[When was Joren Ashford’s first kiss?]

The moment I saw the question, I actually relaxed.

“Four years ago. September seventeenth.”

I said it with complete confidence.

That night, he walked me home. He stood outside my apartment building for a long time.

We held hands, looking at each other, neither of us willing to leave.

The motion-sensor light in the hallway clicked off. That was when he suddenly pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

After that, every September seventeenth, he bought me a bouquet of white roses. Said it was to remember that night.

He told me it was the first time he’d ever kissed someone he loved.

The next second—

The harsh buzzer screamed again.

Giant red letters exploded across the screen: [WRONG!!!]

I froze. “That’s impossible. That night was definitely his first—”

“How is it impossible?”

On the other side of the screen, Liora bit down on her straw and smiled like she knew a secret. “Joren’s first kiss doesn’t have to be yours.”

She raised a finger and tapped her own lips.

A beat of silence outside. Then the room erupted.

“I knew it! You two were joined at the hip for years. No way you never kissed!”

“Called it! Joren and Liora were keeping that one real quiet!”

“Holy shit, was it that time?”

Joren frowned slightly, but when he spoke, it came out as teasing: “Don’t start making stuff up.”

Liora smiled sweetly. “We were seventeen, I think? Playing truth or dare. Our lips touched for a few seconds.”

“But a little kiss between friends shouldn’t count for anything, right? Lyra wouldn’t be bothered by something from ten years ago, would she?”

My heart seized. A dull, crushing ache, wave after wave.

Liora snapped her fingers.

“Wrong answer on number two. Time for your penalty.”

The next second, my phone’s photo library appeared on every screen.

[Please select one photo as tonight’s bridal memory.]

The color drained from my face.

There was one photo in there I never wanted anyone to see. Ever.