CHAPTER ONE

MIRABELLA.

I am stuck alone.

A word whispered through tears, one that forged an uncommon bond with my own self. A lifeline that has kept me anchored.

I have lived alone.

I have survived alone.

I have strived alone.

Me against me. Me for me. An unspoken rule.

For the first time in months, a decision is finally made to leave my research laboratory, intending to visit my apartment in town.

This weekend, my desire is to achieve a well deserved rest.

Weaving my keys through my fingers, my eyes sharp and fast, move rapidly around the dimly lit street, my heart racing with suspicion. A lump forms in my throat and I gulp down on it.

By the gate leading into my compound, a shadow casts over me, bringing me to an abrupt stop. Another shadow casts over me, this time, it’s a gasp that escapes me.

I stay rooted on the spot, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Two men in black emerge, taking their stance at both sides of me. I suck in a breath.

This has become a continuous event in my life. Today, I’m free, and tomorrow, I’m a hostage.

It’s the reality of the world I belong in—the world of crime. My relation to Cosa Nostra is not a thing of choice, but of blood ties.

My father, a mafioso and the consigliere of a powerful crime family in Italy. A man who holds power—the one string that connects me to the mafia.

He's a man of very little words, and yet, he’s surrounded by a thick cloud of darkness. A catastrophic, greedy, person who revels in the pain of others. His least favorite people especially.

I am my father’s least favorite person.

One can only imagine how ruined the entirety of my being is, and the only crime I've committed is to be born into a family that loathed me.

My constant abduction has nothing to do with the crime society, but has everything to do with my father.

When I find myself in situations like this, there’s only one person behind it. Emiliano Marcelo.

What father derives pleasure in kidnapping his own daughter?

Mine.

With a roll of my eyes, I put my hands behind me waiting for the men to bind my wrists and blindfold me as they’d always done. “This doesn’t count as kidnapping if I’m willingly going with you,” I snort a laugh as they lead me into the black SUV.

Having a father like mine can pan out to be very detrimental to your mental health. A father whose only interest is money, power, fame, and more money. Never once has he shown any interest in putting his family in order, but plays himself out to be a responsible man in the eyes of the public.

Still blindfolded, I realize the car has come to a stop. Strong hands tug my arms harshly, dragging my staggering form into the usual place.

It never gets old with mio padre.

The blindfold is taken off me just as powerful footsteps approach. My lips form a smile.

“This has become quite predictable, father. If you desired the audience of your daughter, isn’t it courteous to have asked nicely?” The sarcasm in my tone of voice stuns my father. His brows form a crease, his face wearing a scowl.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I quirk a challenging brow at him.

My bold demeanor is a facade—one that might drop seconds from now. My racing heart and trembling fingers give away my fear.

Naturally, whenever my father’s minions are instructed to abduct me, my restraints are immediately taken off once I'm secured at the manor. But today, hours after we arrived the manor, I’m still bound to a chair. In the basement.

It can only indicate one thing, this isn’t the usual rodeo. Something else is at play.

“Sorella.” The gruff voice of my twin sister snaps me back to reality. Her emerald green orbs, glazed with loathe, scrutinizes me from the far end of the basement. I force out a smile, my eyes squinted with irritation.

The corner of her lips curve up into a smirk.

Like father, like daughter.

My twin sister–Annabella– has always taken after my father, and I on the other hand, takes after my mother in more ways than one. Which explains the special bond she shares with mio padre.

With my sister, a lot of similarities are shared. Wavy, jet-black hair, symmetrical face, doe-shaped eyes, perfectly full heart-shaped lips, and child-like features.

One could mistake one for the other. But luckily for me, our eyes might be of the same shape, but we spot differences in eye color.

The features of my eyes have continuously gained me public attention with their uniqueness. With one globe appearing as blue as sapphire stone and cold as ice. And the other globe the color of an emerald sapling field, holding depths of mystery.

My features are the reason heads turn to glance at me twice in less than a second, except, I haven't had the pleasure of so many heads turning to peek that second glance at me. Twenty six years of my life has been utterly and completely boring. Just the same routine everyday.

The first ten years of my life was spent acquiring knowledge within the four walls of my home. My mother who had been my tutor unfortunately passed, giving my father the opportunity to ship me off into a facility far far away from home.

It had been a stupid excuse of a boarding school. After long months of enduring excruciating pain, an opportunity to escape that hell-hole presented itself. I took it.

My escape had been my rebirth. My freedom. Or maybe it was me who had deluded myself with the idea of freedom.

With the vast knowledge gathered from my mama, I became a lab scientist, and I’ve since been confined in the four walls of my research laboratory.

During the years when I was hidden away from the world, Annabella had been lucky enough to live freely. She attended the best schools, and when she came of age, mio padre had trained her in the ways of the mafia. And today, she’s a renowned assassin.

So, Anabella and I might share a few similarities, but we’re two worlds apart. And the loathe we share for one another is stronger than the blood ties that binds us together.

“Your sister will be getting married in two weeks.” My father announces.

My lips stretch into a genuine smile. “Well, father, you should’ve just sent me an invite. I’d have been more than happy to attend.”

That’s when I see the look in his eyes. The look that says he’s in a difficult situation and needs saving. And if I’m still strapped to this chair, I guess I’m the one doing the saving.

“What do you need?” I ask.

With a sigh, my father breathes out a sigh, his voice a deadpan when he says. “You’ll be standing in for your sister.”

“What?”

“There’s a mission requiring her attention, and I wouldn’t appreciate it if she missed out on this opportunity because of this marriage arrangement. She’ll be gone for at least six months. Until then, you’re to remain married to her husband.”

With a shake of my head, a chuckle rumbles in my chest. “I’m certain the gentleman can wait six more months.”

“That could be true,” mio padre agrees. “Except the groom seems to be revolted by this arrangement. Any more delay, and he’d see enough reasons to call it off.”

“If he doesn’t want to marry, papa, let him be.”

Laughter erupts in my father’s throat. His eyes, dripping with venomous rage, shoots me a glare. A muscle feathers in my jaw. “Your stupidity has no end, does it?” The low growl of his voice meets my ears. “It is important that we become a part of that family, Mirabella, and you will play your part. You can no longer run away from your duty to your family.”

“My family?” I snort a laugh, making certain my sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. “Why is it so important, becoming a part of the so-called family you speak of?”

“Because, Mirabella, why be a consigliere when you can become the Don, hmm?” My father whispers, laughter bubbling out of him. My eyes narrow at him, my brain running in circles, the desire to fully decipher his words tugging at my heart.

My eyes widen in understanding.

“You greedy basta—” the palm of my father’s hand connects my face. Hard. His fist curls around my hair, yanking my head backwards with a sneer. A yelp escapes me. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes. Papa’s hand connects my face again, drawing an even louder scream from my throat.

“You’ll watch your mouth when speaking to me, Mirabella. You’ll walk the path curated for you silently, do you understand.”

I fume. “Throwing me to the wolves? Is that the path? If you want to be Don so bad, why don’t you just kill them all? Why do I have to be married to someone for so long just so you can get whatever it is you want?”

Mio padre’s hand surrounds my neck, his fist tightening so hard my airflow almost cuts off. With a shake of his head, he tsks. “You’re going to marry that arrogant son of a bitch, Mirabella. You’ll become a part of them, gain their trust, and gain inside information. Do you understand?”

“You’re consigliere, I’m certain you have access to more than enough information.”

“I need more. I need something greater than what I have, and you’ll help me get my hands on it.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I breathe out a defeated sigh, knowing that no amount of arguing can get me out of this. My lips finally elicit the question that has hung on the tip of my tongue from the commencement of this conversation. “Whom am I marrying?”

“Matteo Messina Denaro.”

Matteo?

Matteo.

I’ve had little or no association with made men, but this name has a familiar ping to it.

Oh God.

Matteo. He’s the. . .

“Hell no. Please no. You can’t get me married to that monster. Please father, I’ll do anything but not him. I’ll be dead even before Annabella returns to take her place.”

Rope after rope of tears relentlessly slide down my cheeks. He’s a monster, an inhumane, selfish, arrogant man. It’s impossible that I survive as his wife.

This is the same man whose sister, brother, and grandparents lost their lives to over some misunderstanding. Matteo Messina Denaro is a vile man. The most dreaded of all made men.

A man willing to do anything for power. A man who’d rather soak himself in blood than accept the idea of peace. That is the same man my father wants for me.

It becomes clear as day. There’s no mission requiring Annabella’s attention. My sister is too precious to my father, so much so he cannot bring himself to give her away in marriage to that demon.

My lips tremble, my heart pounds hard and fast against my throat, almost drawing bile. Gulping down the lump forming in my throat, I ramble.

For long minutes, I ramble, pleading that I’m spared from this brutal judgment. Mio padre is unheeding.

I remind him of Matteo’s and Anabella’s previous encounters, reminding him that he’d spot our differences from afar. Papa reasons that a disguise has been made ready. I remind him that my personality differs from my sister’s, and he reminds me that they’ve only met once, making it impossible for Matteo to know so much of my sister with just one meeting.

There’s no way out of this, that much has become clear.

“You’re having dinner with his family in two days. Anna will put you through whatever it is you have to know before then. Please, Mirabella, do not disappoint me.”

My father’s tone of voice is commanding, a ring of challenge to his words. Like a dare. More tears slide down my cheeks, regret, pain, and sorrow tugging painfully at my heart.

All the years spent chasing freedom, gone to waste.

It is happening. In just two weeks, I’ll go from being a lab rat, to becoming the wife of the most dangerous man in the Italian mafia.

The heir and soon to be Don of the most powerful famiglia of the Sicilian mafia.