Chapter 2 THE ENGAGEMENT

ISABELLA .

Tenuta Lucestra.

My childhood home.

As I stand at the entrance looking up at the high gates I can't help but remember the last time I was here.

FLASHBACK.

"I said no!" I scream at my father. "I will not be a part of your blood business!"

"That blood business as to so aptly call it has provided for you and all your expenses. How do you think you were able to attend all those prestigious art schools? Get all those connections?! It is this family, this business that has opened those doors for you!" he screams back at me.

"You could have done it in a legal way! Why? Why do you have to be a criminal?!"

"Everyone is a criminal! Even the ones you think are honest. No one is honest, no is as clean as you like to think, not if you want to make it in this world, not if you never want to worry about anything!"

"Really?!" I snap. "Never worry about anything, huh? Can you confidently say that you are at peace? That all those guards are not trained assassin's sworn to protect us from the enemies you made! If you worry about our safety, it is because you put us in this situation!"

"Bella!" my mother snaps at me as she gets in between me and my father. "Apologize to your father, right now. You have no idea what he has sacrificed for us."

"Well I don't want it!I don't want to be involved in the Mafia. I will not."

"If you can not make sacrifices for your family then you are not a member of it anymore," he says to me.

"Rocco, no," my mother gasps as she grabs his hand. "She is your daughter!"

"And you heard her, she wants nothing to do with us. Get out of my house, do not return until you have your head screwed on straight."

"Fine, I won't," I reply as I whirl around in anger.

PRESENT.

That was the last time I saw my father.

Numbness is all I feel as I walk through the lush gardens of the estate. Towering trees and long green lawns winding through the pathways of the estate.

Tenutra Lucestra meaning radiant estate is fitting for this sprawling estate that basks in the golden rays of the setting sun.

The gravel pathway is lined with towering cypress trees that reach towards the sky, meticulously manicured gardens, where vibrant flowers bloom in a mosaic of colors, filling the air with perfumed scents of jasmine and lavender.

A few turns ahead is the estate's vineyards that stretch out far beyond the gardens, rows upon rows of grapevines promising a bountiful and tasty harvest before eventually arriving at the mansion.

My father's taste in grandeur is undeniable especially in his crowning jewel, the mansion. With large, arched windows that offer a glimpse into the opulence inside to the ornate wrought iron details of the balconies, and as I look up, I see the elegant frescoes that decorate the exterior walls while the mansion's walls are a warm, sun-kissed ochre, complemented by terracotta roof tiles that seem to glow in the light.

I don't know how long I stand there, just staring at the mansion and only being brought out of my reminiscing by the high mahogany doors opening.

"Bella," my mother's quiet voice calls out tentatively as she comes out and sees me, dressed completely in black.

"Mama," I call quietly, afraid to approach her, not after the way I had left.

"Oh, Mia Bella," she croons as she opens her hands out to me.

"Mama," I cry out as I rush into them. "I am sorry. So sorry."

"it is alright my love. It is alright."

"But it is not," I insist. "He thought... he thought I hated him... the way I left... I didn't mean to... I didn't know..."

"No one ever knows my love, that is how life usually is."

"How... how did he..."

"It was Carla who found him in his study," she says as she gently leads me into the house. "She thought he was asleep at first and only came to find me when she saw the blood."

"Who is Carla?" I ask.

"Ah, the new house keeper."

"What happened to Julia?"

"She left. She couldn't handle..."

"I see."

As we approach the living room, I can hear the low din of chatter coming from the door.

Sympathizers, friends and rivals all present to pay respects to my father.

"Are there any suspects?" I ask, evading the curious stares as we wind our way to the front, where his coffin is laid out.

"Many, but nothing concrete. Your father made a lot of enemies in his life."

I say nothing to that. There is no point, after all.

We arrive at the raised podium where his coffin is placed, surrounded by bouquets of exquisite flowers.

"Papa," I whisper brokenly as I look down on him.

It is true, I was angry and disgusted at his business and yes, I said some really cruel things, but I never hated him.

I was just... angry.

And now it is too late.

He is gone and I can't apologize anymore.

I will never see him anymore, nor speak to him, nor see his warm smile or hear his laughter.

He really is gone.

I don't realize when I crumble to the floor, the numbness wears off as the pain tears through me.

Heart break.

The gut wrenching kind.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry," I weep only coming to reality when I feel my mother's arms come around me.

"Bella," she calls softly. "Come on, on your feet, come on, mija."

She pulls me up to my feet and begins leading me away when we are blocked by an imposing stature.

"Madonna, Donna, my deepest condolences on your loss," the man says.

We Italians are naturally beautiful people, but there are some that look like they were specially crafted by God.

The man before us has olive-toned skin with dark, curly hair and a well groomed beard. Standing at about 6 feet tall, he has a broad-shouldered, athletic build. His eyes are a deep brown, like pools of warm cocoa that just pulls me in.

"Signore Romano, thank you for coming," my mother responds with a graceful nod.

"Please, Signore Romano is my father, you can call me Luca."

Alarm bells go off in my head at his words.

See, in order for me not to like the Mafia, I must have been at least be familiar with them and their...intricacies.

And I know for certain that the Mafia don't forgo titles except if they are friends, family or are aiming to be both.

This man wants something and I will be damned if I let him take advantage of my mother.

Pushing back my grief, I straighten my back as I look him dead in the eye.

"Romano," I remark. "The name is familiar."

"I would hope so, your father and mine are... were close friends," he says.

"Where they now?"

"Bella," my mother calls in an admonishing tone. "Luca is right. His father and yours built their fortune together."

Translation, they were both in a gang and clawed their way up while making deals with each other.

Great.

"You want something," I say, not wavering as I look him in the eye. "What is it?"

Rather than answering me he glances at my mother and I watch a strange look pass between them.

"Mother?" I ask.

"Come," she says as she begins leading me away, this time Luca following behind us. "We will discuss this in the study."

"Discuss what?" I demand.

"In the study."

I hold my peace as we pass through the milling guests, past the corridors and into a dark room.

As my mother turns on the lamp, my eyes go to the leather chair, where she said papa was found.

Bleeding.

Someone killed him.

And is walking around scott free.

The thought feels me with mad rage, something I didn't think I was capable of.

"Bella, there is... something you should know," my mother begins, bringing my attention to her. "Before your father died, he and Signore Romano, Lucas' father, had made... an arrangement. One that involves you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What... deal?"

"You have to understand, mija, it was the best choice for the family and for you. Your father just wanted you to be taken care of."

"What, deal!"

"A marriage deal," Luca says, speaking up for the first time since he came in here. "Between you and me."

"Excuse me?"

"We don't really have much of a choice in the matter, you see. Everything has been finalized. From what your mother told me, it is even stipulated in the will. You and I are to be married before the month runs out."

I stare at him for a few seconds before looking at my mother.

"What the hell?!*