Part 2-“Take Your Mouth Off Her.” The Plus-Size Bookstore Owner Never Knew Her Rescuer Was the Mafia Boss
Part 2-“Take Your Mouth Off Her.” The Plus-Size Bookstore Owner Never Knew Her Rescuer Was the Mafia Boss
The strangest thing about secrets is that they rarely feel heavy when you first create them.
They feel small.
Temporary.
Almost harmless.
That was what I learned about Mark Bell.
Or maybe I should say Marco Belandi.
Because that was the truth I discovered later.
But before I knew his real name, before I understood the dangerous world surrounding him, I only knew the man who stood in my bookstore after closing hours and looked at me like I was the first person in years who had actually seen him.
“I would like dinner,” he finally said.
I smiled.
“You sound like you’re accepting a business contract.”
His mouth moved slightly.
“I am trying to answer carefully.”
“It’s dinner, Mark. Not a hostage negotiation.”
That sentence should have made me suspicious.
A normal person would have laughed.
A normal person might have joked back.
But Mark only looked away for a second.
Almost like my words hit too close to something hidden.
“I am not very good at normal conversations,” he admitted.
That surprised me.
Because everything about him looked like someone who had mastered every conversation he ever entered.
He walked confidently.
He spoke carefully.
He never seemed uncertain.
But standing there in my bookstore, surrounded by romance novels and the smell of old paper, he looked almost like a man who had forgotten how to simply exist.
“Good,” I said.
He looked back at me.
“Good?”
“Yes. Normal is overrated.”
For some reason, that answer made him relax.
Just slightly.
But I noticed.
I always noticed.
Our first dinner was supposed to last an hour.
It lasted four.
We went to a small Italian restaurant near the bookstore.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing expensive.
A place where the waiter knew my name because I came there after long workdays.
I expected Mark to complain.
The chairs weren’t luxurious.
The menu wasn’t written in complicated language.
The restaurant wasn’t the kind of place wealthy people usually visited.
Instead, he looked around quietly.
“You like this place?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I thought about the question.
Because most people would have answered with food.
But for me, it was more than that.
“Because nobody here cares who you are.”
Mark became quiet.
I immediately realized something.
That answer mattered to him.
“You say that like it’s important.”
“It is.”
“Why?”
I looked at him.
“Because everyone deserves somewhere they don’t have to perform.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he picked up his glass.
“To not performing.”
I smiled.
“To not performing.”
I didn’t know then how ironic that toast was.
Because the entire time we sat there, he was performing.
He was pretending to be someone else.
Over the next month, Mark became part of my life.
Not officially.
Not in a way I could explain.
But he was there.
He appeared at the bookstore.
He brought coffee.
He carried boxes when shipments arrived.
He argued with customers about fictional characters.
He listened when I complained about difficult suppliers.
And slowly, without realizing it, I started looking forward to seeing him.
That scared me.
Because I had learned something from my past.
People could make you feel special in private and still make you feel invisible in public.
My previous relationship had taught me that.
Daniel was charming.
Successful.
Everyone loved him.
When we were alone, he told me I was beautiful.
He told me I was funny.
He told me I was the only person who understood him.
But when his career improved, everything changed.
Suddenly, I became someone he kept separate.
Someone he loved quietly.
Someone he didn’t want standing beside him when cameras appeared.
At first, I convinced myself it didn’t matter.
I told myself love was about what happened behind closed doors.
Then one day I realized something painful.
If someone only loves you when nobody is watching…
Are they really loving you?
Or are they only loving the version of you that makes their life easier?
That was why I had rules.
Simple rules.
No pretending.
No hiding.
No secrets.
I told Mark this one night while we sat in the bookstore reading corner.
“People think secrets protect relationships,” I said.
He looked at me.
“But sometimes secrets are just delayed explosions.”
His expression changed.
Almost immediately.
Like I had touched something buried deep inside him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I studied him.
“You do that a lot.”
“Do what?”
“Disappear for a second.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe I think too much.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
I laughed.
And he looked at me like he wanted to remember that sound forever.
I started noticing strange things.
Small things.
Things that didn’t make sense.
Whenever Mark entered the bookstore, he always checked the room.
Whenever his phone rang, his entire personality changed.
Not completely.
But enough.
The warm man disappeared.
The careful man returned.
His voice became colder.
His posture became sharper.
One afternoon, I walked toward the back office and accidentally heard him talking.
“You need to find who leaked the manuscript.”
His voice was different.
Not angry.
Worse.
Controlled.
“I don’t care who is involved.”
A pause.
“No. Handle it quietly.”
I stopped.
For a moment, I wondered if I had imagined it.
Then he walked out.
And when he saw me, he immediately changed.
“Everything okay?”
I smiled.
“Yeah.”
But inside, I wondered.
Who exactly was Mark Bell?
The answer came sooner than I expected.
Saturday was supposed to be the biggest event Between the Lines Books had ever hosted.
The publisher of Evelyn March’s newest novel had chosen my bookstore for a promotional event.
Readers traveled from different states.
A local television crew arrived.
The store was packed.
And I was excited.
Because Evelyn March was my favorite author.
Her books had helped me through some of the hardest moments of my life.
The event was supposed to be about love stories.
About characters finding courage.
About people choosing honesty.
Ironic.
Because the person standing closest to me was hiding the biggest truth of all.
Mark arrived early.
He found me arranging books.
“You look nervous.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because this place means everything to me.”
He looked around.
“You built this.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“You should be proud.”
The way he said it made me pause.
Because it didn’t sound like a compliment.
It sounded like respect.
Before I could answer, the event began.
Almost eighty readers filled the store.
The actor hired for the event, Adrien West, walked onto the small stage.
He was famous.
Handsome.
Charming.
And immediately, I didn’t like him.
There was something about the way he looked at people.
Like everyone around him existed for his performance.
Still, I remained polite.
That was my job.
The event continued smoothly.
Until Adrien decided to change the script.
Halfway through the discussion, he walked toward me.
The audience laughed.
The cameras followed.
“I think everyone here deserves something memorable.”
I smiled politely.
“What did you have in mind?”
Then he said it.
“A kiss.”
The room became uncomfortable.
I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
He smiled.
Like my answer was part of the performance.
“Come on.”
“No.”
The second time was firmer.
The cameras were still recording.
People were watching.
And then he made the mistake.
He reached for my arm.
I pulled away.
“Don’t.”
But he ignored me.
He leaned closer.
And before he could do anything else—
My hand moved.
The sound echoed through the bookstore.
Everyone froze.
I had slapped him.
Adrien stared at me.
“You hit me?”
“I told you no.”
His face changed.
The charming actor disappeared.
The arrogant man appeared.
He stepped forward.
And then—
Someone grabbed his jacket.
Mark.
I had never seen him look like that.
The calm mask was gone.
His eyes were cold.
Dangerous.
“Take your mouth off her before I remove it from your face.”
The entire bookstore went silent.
Adrien looked terrified.
Not because of the words.
Because of the person saying them.
Mark pulled him away effortlessly.
The actor stumbled backward.
For one second, I thought Mark was going to do something terrible.
And I reacted immediately.
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Mark looked at me.
“He touched you.”
“I know.”
“He deserves—”
“No.”
My voice was firm.
“Move.”
He froze.
Nobody spoke to him like that.
Nobody.
I pointed toward Adrien.
“He ignored my answer.”
Then I looked at Mark.
“And breaking his face won’t magically make you my hero.”
The words hit him.
Hard.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then slowly…
Mark stepped back.
And I realized something.
The most dangerous man in that room had just listened to me.
After security removed Adrien, everyone slowly returned to normal.
But I couldn’t.
Because something had changed.
The way Mark moved.
The way people reacted to him.
The fear in Adrien’s eyes.
The silence when Mark spoke.
None of it made sense.
I picked up a fallen book from the floor.
Then I handed it to him.
“Since you’re already here…”
He looked at the book.
It was Evelyn March’s newest novel.
“Explain why this author ruined the ending.”
He stared at the cover.
Then at me.
And for the first time…
Mark Bell looked truly afraid.
Because he knew something I didn’t.
The book in his hands wasn’t just another novel.
It was his secret.
His words.
His life.
And I had just asked him to explain himself.
He opened his mouth.
But before he could answer…
A woman’s voice came from behind us.
“Marco?”
I froze.
Mark froze.
The woman walked closer.
She smiled.
“Honestly, you disappear for days and ignore my messages?”
Then she looked at me.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m Sophia.”
She extended her hand.
“Marco’s sister.”
My brain stopped.
Marco.
Not Mark.
Marco.
The name meant nothing to me at first.
Then someone behind me whispered:
“Marco Belandi?”
The entire bookstore changed.
People turned.
Phones appeared.
Faces went pale.
I looked back at him.
The man I thought I knew.
The man who carried boxes.
The man who argued about romance novels.
The man who drank coffee with me.
He stood silently.
Because there was no point pretending anymore.
“Your name is Marco?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Marco Belandi?”
Another silence.
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“Yes.”
And in that moment…
I realized the stranger who had saved me was not just mysterious.
He was someone the entire country knew.
Someone dangerous.
Someone powerful.
Someone who had lied to me from the beginning.
And then my phone rang.
Lena looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
“Clare…”
“What?”
She slowly turned the phone toward me.
A breaking news headline appeared.
MAFIA BOSS MARCO BELANDI REVEALED AS THE SECRET AUTHOR BEHIND BESTSELLING ROMANCE NOVELS BY EVELYN MARCH.
My hands went cold.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
The books.
The arguments.
The way he knew every chapter.
The way he defended every character.
The man standing in front of me wasn’t just Mark Bell.
He was the author whose words had saved me.
And the man whose secret had just shattered my trust.
I looked at him.
He looked back.
And for the first time since meeting him…
I didn’t know who I was looking at.
TO BE CONTINUED
