FORCED TO MARRY A MAFIA

igh above for anyone to ever see where it ended behind mountains or hills except through climbing on one of them or taking an airplane flying over them. Her father was sitting at one edge of a long

character. Isabella sat at the other end of the table, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass. Her older brother, Giovanni, stood by the door, his expression h

deep sockets shot in her direction, and she could read a mixture of anger, frustration, and s

ivalling family – the Rossi's – in the underworld became overtly threatening by the latter's move when it invaded their terr

in the eye, even though her pulse r

iovanni's jaws tightened, as if

ther spoke, his voice low but firm. "Y

nded like a

t saying the name Alessandro Rossi was a dangerous thing. A man known for the harshness and iron hand he used in ruling over his empire, the

ay anything meaningful given the fact that

nny?" she asked in a lo

e. His eyes were menacingly black. "It's a treaty-a union. Father and R

ather had always been a good schemer but this-this was

r voice trembled like an old man's.

eadingly softer voice than

ant me to get married to the man who has caused so much

on in this world. This is how to stop the massacre and make peace between our families. Do you think I would choose this

icant danger of falling out of favor with De Luca business interests as well as the individuals who anchored and invested in them. They managed to keep th

ne, "I am not into this myself but we must make this agreement. Otherwise, they will defeat us

eassurance, but found only cold pragmatism. The whole family counted on

nded, hesitantly but challeng

nger and hurt, "I am your father Isa

en begin to describe how she felt. No other fate or option was open to he

escape. There was just simply no way she w

were causing a lot of pain in h

swered in a monotone vo

he did not have much time before meeting the man who would determine what becomes of

, she would

-

sleep for her tonight as she lay on her bed, looking at the ceiling, replaying her father's words. Tomorrow she would face

Her tears made their way down her face and she wiped them off in fury. She

t Isabella realized that she could not escape this. She was going to

ntly against her chest wall while she stood there motionless. She was wearing an uncomplicatedly elegant black gown; her hair was a straight bl

taller than she would have thought, Alessandro held the space before him with an air of peril. His suit fitted impeccably; nonetheless, this stood in sharp contrast to the frosty solemnity behind his

angerous smile. "Isabella De Luca," he said, his voice low and smooth, l

o his eyes. It suddenly hit her that thi