Blood & Vows: Married to the Enemy Kingpin

"Isabella."

There was blood in the roses.

Fresh, crimson, and gleaming like morning dew, it coated the thorns and seeped into the silk table runner beneath the bouquet that crowned the long mahogany dining table. Isabella De Luca stared at the petals without blinking, the metallic tang of iron mingling with the floral sweetness in the stifling silence.

"You made your move," she said coolly, lifting her eyes to meet her father's across the table.

Don Emilio De Luca was carved from stone and crowned with legacy - the kind of man who didn't flinch when family vanished or corpses drifted ashore. He tapped ash from his cigar into a porcelain tray and leaned back, unbothered. "I did. And it was received."

Her jaw tightened. "You slit a man's throat and shoved roses down his throat."

His silence said everything.

Her stomach churned - not from the violence, but from the calculated spectacle. It was the De Luca signature - like the carved initials in an enemy's palm before tossing him to the Atlantic's depths.

This one, she was certain, was addressed to Matteo Alonso.

"This is your peace offering?" she asked bitterly. "Pushing him to retaliate?"

Don Emilio's gaze shifted to her, unreadable. "The war ends tonight."

She stilled. "How?"

He crushed the cigar. "You're marrying him."

The words sliced through the air like a dagger to the throat.

Isabella's world didn't shatter - it seethed. "No."

"Yes."

Her chair scraped back with a screech. "You can't be serious."

"I don't joke about this family's business." He rose, adjusting his gold cufflinks with the quiet menace of a man who built an empire with blood-stained hands. "The Alonsos are fractured. Matteo's surrounded by enemies, and the clock on his reign is ticking. He needs support. We need peace. The wedding is set. Two weeks from today."

"I won't do it," she snapped. "I'd rather die than become that bastard's pawn."

"You'll do it because it's your duty," he barked, voice cracking across the room like a whip. "You think I raised you for ballrooms and tiaras? No, *bella mia*, I raised you to protect this family. You're no little girl. You're a De Luca."

Her heart pounded, not from fear - but fury. Matteo Alonso. The man who haunted headlines and graveyards. The man whose rise was forged in blood. A ghost turned king after his brother's murder - a murder many whispered the De Lucas orchestrated.

She remembered him at that funeral. Dressed in black, flanked by guards, his jaw clenched like a steel trap. Eyes like storm clouds - cold, untouchable. Deadly.

And now she was expected to sleep beside him?

No. This couldn't be real.

"What if I refuse?" she asked quietly.

Don Emilio stepped closer. "Then you're cut off. No protection, no inheritance, no name. And when our enemies come - and they *will* - you'll face them alone. I won't lift a finger."

Her blood ran cold.

"That's not a choice," she whispered.

"That's power, Isabella. You think it's freedom. It's not. It's sacrifice." His voice softened - slightly. "Matteo's the devil, but he respects strength. Show him you're not prey, and you'll survive."

"I don't want to *survive*," she hissed. "I want to live."

His hand landed on her shoulder, heavy with finality. "Then wear the crown. And play the game better than he does."

Later that night, Isabella sat alone in the marble-tiled bathroom of her penthouse, the lights dim, bathwater long gone cold. Her reflection stared back - red lips, fierce eyes, flawless skin. A porcelain mask.

She didn't cry. De Lucas didn't cry.

But something inside her cracked.

She would marry Matteo Alonso.

But she would never surrender.

Across the city, in a high-rise tower piercing the Chicago skyline, Matteo Alonso swirled scotch in his glass, watching the city flicker beneath him like embers.

"She's a looker," Nico said, seated nearby, swiping through photos on his tablet. "Isabella De Luca. Smart. Vicious. Dropped out of law school. Daddy's favorite. They call her the Velvet Bullet - beautiful, but deadly."

Matteo didn't reply.

"She's going to hate you," Nico added with a smirk. "Might even try to poison you during the honeymoon."

Matteo took a slow sip of his drink. "Let her try."

"You even want this?"

"Does it matter?" Matteo murmured. "This alliance keeps the Alonso name alive. That's all that counts."

Nico hesitated. "And if she's more than you bargained for?"

A flicker crossed Matteo's face - a dangerous glint. "Then I'll break her slowly."