Scarred Hearts: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

Leya stood by the edge of her father's study, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of the desk that had once been his. The room once filled with his presence, his laughter, his unwavering confidence, once alive, now felt like a tomb: cold, hollow, and lifeless. Almost, as if she heard the echo of his voice from the walls, reassuring her that steadiness that she always relied on.

But now nothing was stable anymore.

Nothing was all right.

The memory of his death came crashing upon her like a tide, of which the force threatened to drown her. She remembered the call, how her mom's face had slumped, folding in on itself, as the weight of the news had shattered everything.

Leya watched immobile, her world breaking into pieces. The moment before, her father was alive, vibrant, with plans and dreams. The next... he was gone.

A car accident: sudden, brutal.

Her hands were quivering while she reached for the framed picture lying on the desk, that of her father proudly in front of their family business. She could recall when she looked at the picture and how proud she was of herself. All this now served to remind her of everything they lost. The company that once had been the hallmark of his presence in this world started coming undone almost as quickly as his life did. The mountain of debts stood like some dark storm, unrelenting and devouring the family whole.

The letters from creditors came first, then the calls, then the threats. Each heavier than the last.

Leya watched as the light in her mother's eyes gradually waned, the withering of the spirit from the weight of it all. How she tried to hold on, but a battle she could never win at. They knew that, and so did she.

That was when he showed up.

Mr. Samuel Blackwood

Every millimeter of the space was filled when he stepped into their home. Dark. Ominous. The power just oozed from him, and Leya was sure the air gradually shifted that very instant his voice filtered through. His voice was low with a soothing cadence as he laid down his terms that would keep them safe. Terms that came with a price.

"I will settle your debts," he had said, icily calm. "But there is something I require in return."

Leya's heart had dropped, knowing what it would be without him finishing the sentence. The look in his eyes, the glance at her apparent.

"Your daughter will marry my son, Harrison."

The words hung in the air, her noose tightening around her neck. She turned to her mother, searching for an escape, for something, anything that could free her from this nightmare. But the tears were already welling up in her mother's eyes, her voice trembling in a whisper: "We have no choice, Leya."

No choice.

The words rang in Leya's mind, a cruel refrain that never seemed to fade. And whatever she did, however, she pleaded with her mother to change her mind, the fact was quite inexorable: they were drowning, and Samuel Blackwood was the only one flinging them a lifeline.

And so, she agreed.

But it hadn't been for herself. It had been for her three younger siblings, who looked to her now to keep them safe. They didn't deserve to suffer because of the collapse of their family's world. She'd do anything to protect them; even sacrificing her happiness was called for; even binding herself to Harrison Blackwood was a price she'd pay.

Harrison paced in great waves of tension, his feet eating away at the floor of his father's office. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, his eyes darting ever towards the door. Behind the great oaken desk, his father sat, indifference to the whole thing exuding from him, just another deal to be handled and forgotten.

"I won't do this," Harrison grated in a low, angry voice. "You can't just simply expect me to marry some girl just because you've made some deal behind my back."

And Mr. Samuel Blackwood raised an eyebrow, his eyes cool and calculating as he looked at his son. "This has nothing to do with what you want, Harrison. This is about the future of our family. About keeping alliances and making sure the Blackwood name doesn't get tarnished."

Harrison's jaw clenched. "I am not going to care about alliances, nor am I going to marry some desperate woman just because her family has gone bankrupt.

"Careful," his father's voice came as a dangerous warning, "it would appear that you forget who is in control here."

It seemed to Harrison that a storm brewed between them, but he knew better than to press his luck any further. His father wasn't a man one crossed lightly unless he wanted the consequences at least.

"I won't love her," Harrison said finally, his voice hard and the last word hanging heavy with defiance. He leaned forward in his seat, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk, knuckles still pale. "You can force this," he said, "but you can't make me care about her."

Mr. Blackwood did not bat an eyelid. He regarded his son through the same detached expression he would if discussing little more than a business transaction and to his mind, he was.

This has nothing to do with love, Harrison," he said calmly. His tone was so even. "Love is nothing in this instance. This pertains to control Power. Ensuring our family remains untouchable. You will marry Leya Anderson and in turn, her family's debts will be erased, their reputation salvaged. You are merely securing their loyalty, nothing more.

Harrison stiffened, hands fisted at his sides. "She's a gold digger. You said it yourself. Why should I play into her hands?"

Samuel's lips arced into the faintest shadow of a smile. "She's desperate, yes. But she is not the threat you seem to think she is. And besides, you will not be playing into her hands. You will hold all the cards."

Turning away, Harrison ran a hand through his hair as frustration boiled under his skin. He hated this, being manipulated, being pushed into a corner. The thought of marrying some woman he hardly knew, a woman whose family was hanging by a thread... It made him sick. But his father wasn't leaving him a choice.

"When is the wedding?" he asked tightly.

His father cast his eyes at the calendar; his voice was nearly all business, as if setting a date for a board of directors meeting. "Two weeks from today. Already everything is being arranged."

The stillness of his father's voice sent Harrison's blood into a boiling frenzy. Two weeks. Just two weeks before he would be chained to her, to this woman he did not want, did not trust. He strode out of the office, the future weighing upon him like a great press of suffocating air.

Closer to the wedding day, the Blackwood mansion became a beehive of activity as people scurried about making preparations.

Leya's mother insisted on trying to make the occasion beautiful, trying to appear and pretend that this was a joyous event instead of the transaction that it was. But Leya just could not find the tiniest speck of joy.

She stood in front of the mirror in her room, staring across the mannequin at her wedding dress. It was a silk and lace, delicate and intricate beautiful gown, the type of gown every girl dreamed of wearing. But to Leya, it felt like a cage.

Her mother fluttered into the room, hands flying nervously as she flitted over the dress to make sure that every detail was perfect.

You'd be beautiful, Leya, her mother said in a shaking voice smelling of false hope. This is. Going to save us. It is for the best.

Leya swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding dumbly. Her mother was only trying to keep up appearances, to keep the illusion going that all was going to be well. But Leya knew better. This had nothing to do with beauty. It had nothing to do with happiness. It was survival.

It was that knock on the door that finally broke the silence. Leya's mother opened it, and there in the hall stood Mr. Samuel Blackwood, a tall, imposing structure that seemed to fill the doorway. He smiled at Leya, and the kindness in his eyes was false.

"Leya, dear," he said, coming into the room, "I came to see how the preparations were going. You look... lovely." His eyes flickered towards the wedding gown.

Leya hunched a polite smile, her head barely nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Blackwood."

He came closer to her space, oppressed by the smallness of the room. "Call me Samuel," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We'll be family soon, after all."

Leya nodded. The word fell over her like a heavy blanket: family. How that sounded so hollow.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the mansion saw Harrison standing in front of his bedroom window, staring at the estate with a scowl on. He did not want this. Every bit of him rebelled against this very idea of marrying Leya Anderson: a woman he knew pretty much nothing about; a woman he felt convinced had agreed solely because of the money.

A light tap came to his door, and his sister Eleanor let herself in. She strode across the room with her face set in a mask of strained disapproval.

"I still cannot understand that Father is insisting you go through with this," she growled. "Leya Anderson? Of all people? A family who became bankrupt, who is barely worth the clothes on their backs.".

Harrison said nothing. His jaw set. He knew his sister was angry, but it was for him; truly, she was angry for herself, too. Eleanor had always taken huge pride in the power and prestige that their family represented, and this was against that, an indelible stain on the name of Blackwood.

"Father thinks he is doing what is best," Harrison finally replied, his voice low.

Father is playing his games, as usual," Eleanor sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you're the pawn. But doesn't it concern yourself, brother," she said, twisting her mouth up into a sly smile, "we will be sure to make Leya know her place in this house."

It was a thought that twisted Harrison's gut. He didn't want to be a pawn. He didn't want any of this. Yet the wheels were oiled long ago, and he could do nothing to stop them now.

DAY OF THE WEDDING

Finally, the big day of the wedding arrived, and the Blackwood estate turned out to be an explosion of opulence. Their guests flowed in flowing gowns and fitted tuxedos, abuzz in a multitude of gossip about this union to be.

Leya sat in the bridal suite, staring stupidly into the mirror at her reflection as the makeup artist finished. Her gown fit her to perfection, the veil trailed behind her like a whisper of something long forgotten.

But she felt nothing.

No excitement. No joy. Only cold sinking dreadful.

Her mother entered, her eyes agleam with unshed tears. "You look lovely, dear," she whispered, smoothing a stray curl from Leya's face. "Your father would be so proud of you."

Leya's heart twisted in pain at the mention of her father. What would he think of this? Would he have wanted this for her?

But before she could reply a knock came from the door. A bridesmaid peeking inside. "It's time," she said. "

Leya's breath caught as she stood up from her chair, her trembling legs beneath her as he stood. This was it. No turning back anymore.

Harrison was standing like a statue at the altar of the church. All their closest friends, business associates, and other important people belonging to high society were filled in the church. But to Harrison, all that meant nothing. His eyes were focused on the far end of the door, of the aisle waiting for the moment Leya would walk across those doors.

When doors finally opened Leya came into view. Unkempt, there was a murmur rippled through the crowd; she was beautiful, there was no denying that, but all she was to Harrison was the woman who foisted on him, not of his choosing.

His jaw clenched as she moved toward him, eyes downcast. This would not be a wedding but a transaction.

It was all over before he knew it. He vaguely heard the voice of the priest-or so it seemed like the man was speaking underwater. The vows, the rings, word after word, gesture after gesture, were links in the chain to bind Leya and Harrison. Leya's heart was thundering against her chest as she repeated her vows in a voice shaking yet with enough connotation to be heard above the hushed whisper of the guests.

Now was the time for her to say something, and Leya looked up to him half daring to hope for something, a little modicum of humanity, some acknowledgment of their being in this together, for better or worse. What stared back at her was cold, calculating indifference.

"I do," Harrison said, the firm words emotionless as they lanced into her like shards of ice.

A strange stillness enveloped Leya when the priest pronounced them husband and wife. She was out of her body, looking in, it would seem this was not her life. It wasn't happening to her.

"You may kiss the bride," intoned the priest, his small, irrelevant smile making formality claw at the words over Leya's skin.

The only hesitation Harrison showed was one brief, passing moment. Then, leaned in, his cold lips against hers, pressing with precision. There was no warmth, no tenderness in the kiss. It was wholly for the benefit of the other occupants of the room who watched with eager eyes. It is done.

The round of applause rumbled from the guests in polite unison, murmurs that filled the air with a forced gaiety. Leya forced a smile onto her face, but inside her heart was heavy and hollow. This was no cause for celebration. This was a performance.