Chapter 3 DUTY BOUND

ISABELLA

The bells of the church echo as people stroll into its buildings, announcing the start of a new hour.

To me, it sounds like a death knell, announcing someone's death.

My death.

A week ago, I had come back to Italy to mourn and bury my father, and now, I am dressed in a wedding gown about to get married to a man I barely know.

Scratch that.

To a man I do not know.

I want to scream, to cry, to smash something but I can't.

Because I know, as messed up and disturbing as this is, it is what my father wanted.

To protect me.

He had said as much in the recorded video he had left for me.

FLASHBACK.

"This is a record filmed by the Signore and given to me for safe keeping," Massimo, his consigliere , said as he pressed a button on the remote, revealing my father's very much alive face on the screen. "I can assure you, on my word and honor, it has not been tampered or doctored in any way."

"My Bella," my father's deep voice plays out as he looks into the camera. "If you are seeing this, it can only mean one thing. That I am dead. I am sorry that this is how we see for the last time, I had no desire to stop you from pursuing your dreams nor did I want to drag you back home.

"First things first, I am not angry at you. You are my beautiful Isabella, my joy, my light. And whatever fire and spark and stubbornness you have, I can only hold myself and your mother to blame. You have my fire, it only makes sense that we would crash. So, baby, I forgive you. Do not blame yourself , do not punish yourself, know that in my last moments, my thoughts were of you and how proud I am of the woman you have become."

By this time, I am already a blubbering mess, tears pouring down my face as deep sobs wrack my chest.

His words are a balm to my soul, one I desperately needed to hear and which he had offered willingly without hesitation.

"Now to business," he continues. "I have lived a long, full and interesting life and have accumulated much wealth and power. With that comes enemies, one's I know that I won't be able to protect you and your mother from once I am gone, which is why I have come to an agreement with my dear friend, Giovanni Romano.

"We got into this world together and he is the one I can safely entrust my family to, legacy and wealth too. In exchange for watching over you and your mother, his son will have to marry you. Bella, I beg of you, do me this favor and agree. I know, I now, you will chafe at this but I would very much like to go to the grave knowing I have done all I could.

"Luca is a good man. A strong, disciplined man, one who would do right by you. There might be no love in this marriage, but I hope there will be at least trust and mutual respect between you too. Do this for me, for your mother, for our family. If not for anything, do it out of duty, as the last thing, I, your father asks of you. I love you, my Bella, take care of yourself. And your mother."

PRESENT DAY.

What choice did I have but to accept?

Marry Luca, it is the very last thing he asked.

And not for his sake but for ours.

Mother and I.

So, here I am. Dressed in the most exquisite and expensive gown I have ever worn.

The gown is a masterpiece of lace and silk that glimmers under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights.

The bodice is fitted with delicate lace appliqués, hugs my curves like a second skin, while a sweetheart neckline adds a touch of sensuality.

The intricate beading, shimmers like scattered diamonds, traced with intricate patterns across the bodice, catching the light with every movement I make.

The skirt cascades down in luxurious layers of silk, chiffon and tulle, flowing around me in a dreamy cloud of fabric. At the back, a trail of buttons runs down the spine, leading to a dramatic train that sweeps behind me like a regal cape, with the finishing touches of lace edged scallops that frames the hem, adding a final flourish of exquisite detail to the gown.

The gown alone can buy a small country.

"All this for a man I barely know," I mutter as I look into the mirror.

A few days after the recording show, Luca had shown up at my house with a bouquet of roses to discuss the marriage.

Well, the discussion was more with my mother than me. I just watched him.

The man I would soon callmy husband.

Not too long after he had left with a small peck on my cheeks, not a word exchanged between us.

I quite liked it that way but as my mother pointed out it would not be ideal.

"The two of you are going to be living in the same house for the rest of your life," she had said.

"I suggest you find a common ground and build on it." I agree.

We can't be strangers to each other.

Not when I still need his help.

Lost in thought, I didn't hear the knocks on the door until it pushes open.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

I watch as Luca enters the suite, his face blank as he catches sight of me. "It is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," I say in a deadpan tone.

"This isn't a traditional wedding," he responds. "I don't think we would be affected."

"I suppose so," I say as I turn to head over to a chair.

Taking my seat, I ask.

"The wedding will soon start, why are you here?"

"We haven't really had a chance to discuss or talk. Just you and I," he says as he takes his own seat.

"What is there to talk about? Like you said at the funeral, our fathers have made the decision for us, we have no choice but to comply."

"True, but I was hoping we could at least have a friendship between us."

"Friendship?"

"Yes, if not for anything but a peaceful marriage."

"Hmm, tell me, Luca. Did you have a woman before me?"

"What?"

"Don't be surprised. I did. A man, not a woman. It wasn't serious but I liked him. And now I am marrying you."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that you are not the only one making sacrifices here. I know I am not your first choice and frankly, neither are you. I don't like violence, I don't like blood. But I am marrying because of my father. Beachside of duty. So don't do that thing where you say you in a martyr kind of way, that we can at least be friends. We don't have to be friends. I don't want to be friends . I just want one thing from you. You do that and I will be the perfect wife."

"Which is?"

"Help me find out who killed my father."