TRAPPED BY THE MAFIA

For the first time in months, I finally make a decision to leave my research laboratory and head on out to my apartment just so I can have a peaceful and well rested weekend. I weave my keys through my fingers as I walk through the suspiciously quiet streets and the moment I come to a halt in front of my door, two men in black suddenly emerge from the shadows, taking their stance on both sides of me.

I suck in a breath.

Being taken hostage has become an all time normal in my life. It doesn't happen quite frequently but when it does happen, there's always one person behind it-my father.

What father derives pleasure in kidnapping his own daughter?

Mine.

With a roll of my eyes, I put my hands behind me, waiting for the men to bind my wrists together and blindfold me as they'd always done. "This doesn't count as kidnapping if I'm willingly going with you," I snort a laugh as they lead me into the black SUV.

Having a father like mine can pan out to be very detrimental to your mental health. A father whose only interest is money, power, fame, and more money. Never once has he shown any interest in putting his family in order, but plays himself out to be a responsible man in the eyes of the public.

My father is an extremely calm man on the outside but I do not and will never feign ignorance to what he truly is on the inside-a catastrophic, greedy bastard.

He always has the perfect excuse for being so withdrawn, being the consigliere of the mafia seems to be no joke and my father being my father takes his job a little too seriously.

. . .

"This has become quite predictable father. Don't you think you should just call and invite me over if you wanted to summon me. I am your daughter after all." I blow the strands of hair out of my face.

After hours of waiting in the basement, still bound to a chair, my father finally arrives and I'm in shock as to why I'm still tied up.

Something's definitely up.

"Sister," my twin sister peeks her head from behind my father's huge frame and I chuckle.

Like father, like daughter.

My twin sister Annabella has always taken after my father, and I on the other hand takes after my mother in more ways than one. Which explains why my father cannot stand me but showers Annabella with so much love and affection.

I and Annabella are identical in many ways except our eyes. Her eyes are emerald green just like my father's. But mine, I took one from my father and one from my mother.

I have two different irises-one appears as blue as the ocean and dead as ice and the other, emerald green.

Unique, don't you think?

It is something that has and will always gain me attention in public, except, I do not like being out in public.

Twenty six years of my life has been utterly boring. Just the same routine every freaking day. Although, I have no complaints.

I spent the first ten years of my life being homeschooled before my mother passed. Father was quick to ship me off to some boarding school. I cannot begin getting into details of what happened in that fucked up school, but I got an opportunity and made my escape.

From there, I became a lab scientist and I've since been confined in the four walls of my research laboratory.

Except for when my father decides to kidnap and bring me home. Whenever he needed something.

And he doesn't need something very often.

But he of course funds me pretty well-I'd give him credit for that.

While every effort was made to hide me away from the outside world, my sister Annabella was being trained in the best schools, introduced to the Italian mafia and their workings until she finally became an assassin and my father's puppet.

So, we might be twins but we share very different views and opinions and we have quite the opposite personalities.

"Your sister will be getting married in two weeks," my father states and I genuinely smile.

"Well father, you should've just sent me an invite, I'd have been more than happy to attend."

That's when I see the look in his eyes. The look that says he's in a difficult situation and needs saving-and if I'm still strapped to this chair, I guess I'm the one doing the saving.

"What do you need?" I ask and my father let out a sigh, pulling close a seat before settling into the seat-his breath exasperated.

"You'll be standing in for your sister." He deadpans.

"What?"

"She has a mission and I wouldn't like for her to miss out on it because of this wedding arrangement. She'll be gone for at least six months and until then, you're to remain married to her husband."

"I'm sure the gentleman can wait six more months," I scoff with a shake of my head.

"I'm sure he can but he will, but this is arranged and he doesn't want it. Anymore delay and he'll see reasons to call it off. But it is important that we become a part of that family and you will play your part. You can no longer run away from your duty to your family."

"My family?" I snort a laugh, making certain my sarcasm doesn't go unnoticed. "Why is it so important, becoming a part of the so called family you speak of?"

"Because Mirabella, why be a consigliere when you can become the Don, hmm?" My father whispers with a hearty laugh and I narrow my eyes at him observing him for a second before looking over at my sister who's standing beside him. Gradually, I piece all of the information together.

"You greedy basta-" my father's hand comes down hard on my face before I can curse him out. He fists my hair, yanking my head backwards with so much force that I yelp out in pain.

"You'll watch your mouth when speaking to me. And you'll learn to speak less and follow the path that has been cleared out for you."

"Throwing me to the wolves? Is that the path? If you wanted to be Don so bad, why don't you just kill them all? Why do I have to be married to someone for so long just so you can get whatever it is you want?"

My father pushes my head to the side with a shake of his head, tsking, looking down at me like I'm the most foolish person on earth. "You're going to gain their trust, and gain inside information. Your presence in that house will solely be to gather every information I need to become the Don."

"You're consigliere, I'm certain you have access to more than enough information."

"I need more. I need something greater than what I have and you'll help me get my hands on it."

After a moment of silence, knowing that no amount of screaming will get me out of this, I finally ask the question I should've asked from the beginning of this conversation. "Whom am I marrying?"

"Matteo Messina Denaro."

Matteo?

Matteo.

I do not concern myself so much with the mafia and their business, for that reason, I know very little about their men but the name sounds too familiar.

Oh God.

Matteo!

He's the. . .

"Hell no. Please no. You can't get me married to that monster. Please father, I'll do anything but not him. I'll be dead even before Annabella returns to take her place."

My tears overflowing-call me dramatic but when a man murders his sister, brother and grandparents over some misunderstanding, he becomes the most dreaded man in the underworld.

A man willing to do anything for power. A man who'd rather soak himself in blood than accept the idea of peace, that is the same man my father wants for me.

It has become as clear as day, Annabella is not going on any mission, she's just too precious to my father, so much so he cannot bring himself to give her away in marriage to that demon. And now, I'm the one to be sacrificed for their greed.

Fuck.

Me.

I begin rambling on and on about how this is a bad idea as my tears continue to flow. I tell my father that Matteo has seen Annabella and I don't have the same eyes as her, but he says I'll have to use contact lenses. I tell him that I have a different personality from my sister, and he says they've only met once and there's no way Matteo would know so much about my sister from just one meeting.

And it becomes clear as day to me-there's no way out of this.

"You're having dinner with his family in two days. Anna will put you through whatever it is you have to know before then. Please Mirabella, do not disappoint me." My father deadpans as he exists the basement, leaving I and my sister alone.

It is happening, in just two weeks, I'll go from being a lab rat, to becoming the wife of the most dangerous man in the Italian mafia.

The heir and soon to be Don of the biggest famiglia of the Italian mafia.

I observe every inch of myself through the mirror, detesting my appearance. This illusion-the make up, the dress, the jewelry, my eyes, it's all so disgusting. A lie. My sister and father have successfully made me into a clone but I'm not about to make this easy for them.

They need me and it's obvious, so this? This might be their game but they'd have to play by my rules.

I begin to wonder how long my father had this plan thought out as I take off my dress, cleaning off the heavy makeup on my face. There has to be something he's not telling me.

Could it be the reason he made certain I never got introduced to the underworld? Because he didn't want people knowing he had two daughters who were nearly identical? Because he intended on using me when I became an adult?

It had to be, considering how meticulous he was in making sure I remained hidden.

But why me?

"What is keeping you so long, Mirabella?" The door to my room swings open and I eye my father through the mirror.

Of course he's boiling in rage, seeing how I changed out of his perfectly planned outfit into something more comfortable and lightened up my makeup.

"This is not how Annabella would be dressed for this dinner," he grits through his teeth and I scoff.

"Quite unfortunate that I'm not Annabella. Didn't you say he knows little or nothing about her? Well, I'm certain he'll observe nothing."

"Don't push-"

"We're late father." I shove him aside and walk out the door.

Like I said, their game, my rules.

. . .

I walk into the restaurant hand in hand with my father and as we approach the private area, I spot my soon to be husband's silhouette, perfectly seated at the head of the table in the dimly lit room.

My heart begins pounding hard against my ribcage the moment we connect eyes and I fidget with the hem of my dress.

Papá pulls out a chair, urging me to sit by Matteo's corner as I exchange pleasantries with his parents who seem very friendly and welcoming.

"You're late. And one would think you were making an effort to look good." Matteo's deep, intimidating voice reverberates in my spine and I suck in a breath, turning around to find him leaning forward, exposing himself to more lighting.

A scanty breath escapes me as I begin taking in his features.

One would think that a man with a reputation such as Matteo's would be disgusting to look at but that is not the case. This man seated by my side, looking at me disgustingly with his extremely intimidating, hazel eyes is a very breathtaking man.

If there is another word greater than beautiful, that'd be the word most suitable to describe this man. His shirt unbuttoned, his inked chest out in the open, broad shoulders, Adams apple bopping, perfect, full red lips, chiseled jaw...

"Are you going to say something? Or are going to keep gawking at me the entire night?"

As beautiful as my soon to be husband might appear, he seems to a man with ego-unhealthy ego. With the way his eyes glaze over me insultingly and the manner at which he exerts his authority on me, making me feel small.

With a clear of my throat, I relax better on my seat and begin digging into my plate, ignoring his burning stare.

He breathes out an annoyed breath, causing my lips to tip up at the corners.

Powerful men like him, they hate the taste of their own medicine.

After we've finished with the main dish, I immediately fall into a conversation with Matteo's mother and sister-Maria and Julia-answering their many questions robotically.

How did a bubbly person like Maria birth a man like Matteo? The question plays at the back of my head.

How am I supposed to exist with a man like Matteo for six months? A man whose presence is unnerving and whose entire demeanor is clouded by darkness?

How am I expected to survive through this?

Finally having had enough of Matteo's burning gaze, I excuse myself to use the restroom, intending for a quiet time-even if it were for a minute.

The instant I stand in front of the mirror in the restroom, my hands grip onto the marble counter tightly as I shudder. I release all the tension I didn't realize I was holding in and the feeling is exhilarating.

"You seem nervous," that familiar, deep voice echoes in my ears and almost immediately the restroom door jams shut with two clicks to it. My heart goes ballistic. Sweat immediately trickling down my forehead, my throat tight with a lump.

Matteo holds my gaze through the mirror for some time before quirking a brow, nudging me to speak. I gulp, turning around to face him. He crouches down, his eyes narrowing into slits as though attempting to observe my facial features and I immediately return my gaze to the ground.

"I-isnt it normal for a bride to get nervous once her big day is nearing?"

Matteo chuckles dryly, motioning towards me. With each step he takes towards me, I take the same step backward until my back is against the marble counter. He hums. "Except that bride wanted this wedding so desperately."

"Don't you want it? Matteo?"

"You have no idea, Annabella, the idea of getting married repulses me. And you, I detest you for agreeing to this. But if you could make a deal with me," his fingertips trail across my cleavage and I back myself up more into the counter as if an exit would magically appear. "You're the only person capable of ending this absurd arrangement, whatever you want, just name it and it'll be yours. But I need you to go out there and call off this bullshit."

Yes, Matteo, there's nothing more I'd love to do than that but I cannot. I could lose my life.

"You're too close, Matteo," I whisper. My gaze remaining on the ground, how could I ever meet my eyes with the eyes of this intimidating man? I'll be made to naught in an instant.

"You had no complaints the other time, Annabella."

What? The other time? What happened the other time? Why was this part of their meeting kept away from me?

Think Mirabella, think.

"Look at me for a second, Annabella." It's a command, a command so gently spoken, leaving me with no choice but to obey. Slowly, I lift up my gaze to meet his.

His knuckles rests beneath my chin, keeping my head up as his thumb strokes my jaw. His eyes are steady on mine as if searching for something. Satisfaction soon flashes his orbs, causing him to breathe out a scoff, giving his head a shake.

Matteo moves out of the way and gestures me towards the door, urging me to leave. I nod, rushing towards the door, a breath of relief escapes me but my relief is short lived because just as my fingertips connects the door knob, his voice resounds in my ears.

"Mirabella?"

The name is spelt out like he knows who I truly am. I halt my movement, a cold sensation settling in my spine. A few seconds pass and I'm still unable to utter a word or even walk away.

He chuckles maniacally.

"Isn't that your twin? I'm sure you're wondering how I know about her but shouldn't I at least get familiar with all the members of my wife's family?" He tsks. "Will she be in attendance? You know, at our wedding."

I twist the door knob and pull the door wide open before answering, "I'm certain she has more important things to concern herself with."

Yes, Matteo, she'll not just be in attendance, she's going to be your wife.

I hurriedly storm out of the restroom but I hear Matteo muttering 'sure she does' before letting out a very disturbing laugh-confirming the rumors about him.

He's a maniac.

A psychotic maniac.

After dinner with the Denaro's, Matteo opted to drive me home saying 'I should learn to care for my wife after all'.

. . .

After hours of being on the road and having Matteo tease me in the most annoying ways possible, he finally brings his car to a halt in front of my family's mansion.

As the car door swings open, I'm met with my boyfriend Simon, who seems to be drunk out of his mind, screaming my name frantically.

I immediately dismiss Matteo and rush out of the car, slamming the door shut before Simon can say anything that might land me in trouble.

"Baby," Simon hiccups, "I've been waiting here all evening. Tell me the text you sent wasn't true. You didn't send that text, did you? How can you ever break up and inform me of your wedding through a text. It's so unlike you." He slurs.

I go to ask him how he found me but Matteo's voice cuts me short. "Is there a problem here? Wife?" Simon looks up at him and back at me. I shut my eyes tightly, hoping that this's a nightmare. But it's not.

"Wife? Wife? So it is true then? How can you do this to me, to us," Simon grits through his teeth as he stretches his arm out to reach for me but I push back.

"You're probably looking for my sister but she's not home. I'm sure if you went to her Lab-"

"I'm not looking for anyone else, it is you Mira-" he gets cut off by a bullet in his head and almost immediately another to his heart.

A loud gasp tears out of my throat and I shudder.

I dive my bottom lip viciously to stop myself from screaming and fist my dress on both sides to stop myself from reaching for the lifeless body of my boyfriend.

"He was beginning to piss me off with the too much talking and slurring and I love some peace and quiet, wife." Matteo chuckles like a man who has no grasp on reality as he tucks back his gun into his waist band and almost immediately, my father appears out of nowhere, questioning me about what happened but I'm unable to get any word out.

I'm frozen in place, watching my boyfriend's body as tears brim my eyes. It's one thing to lose someone so dear to you in this manner and it's another thing being unable to grief in the way you should because you're pretending to be someone else.

I am playing the role of Annabella an assassin, how could I ever show any emotion because of a dead person whom I'm not supposed to know?

"Get into the house, now." Papá orders in a whisper. I nod my response.

"Why do you seem so distraught? Aren't you the infamous assassin, Annabella?" Matteo asks from behind and I gulp.

"You shouldn't have done that," I breath out.

"Why not?"

"That's my sister's boyfriend, how do I tell her that her boyfriend was killed by my husband to be right in front of our house?"

I push my shaky legs to move and force my gaze to remain forward, knowing that one more glance at Simon's dead body and my cover will be blown.

"I didn't think you cared so much for your sister." I hear Matteo's faded voice as I walk into the living area of the mansion.

I'm definitely in for a rough ride.

I was strongly against this arrangement but I see now how interesting it might become.

They want to play? I'll give them a good game.

Fucking bastards.

The Marcelo's.

I have a few words that would describe them perfectly.

Lying.

Cunning.

Deceitful, pieces of shits.

And I wonder how they've successfully fooled everyone and made it to the top.

Unfortunately for them, I'll be Don soon and I'll make sure to bring their name to the ground.

But unfortunately for me, becoming Don comes with a price.

Two months ago, while I was away on business in Spain, I had received a call from my father asking me to return home for some emergency and I did return, only I could never have guessed the emergency to be a marriage arrangement between I and the daughter of that greedy bastard-Marcelo.

After I'd returned from Spain, I went straight to my father's estate in Sicily where I was met by my mother and sister. But even after so many years, I was still unable to look them in the eye.

I went upstairs to the study and as I pushed the door open, I found my father and his consigliere clinking their glasses in agreement to something while they cackled-and that was when I was informed about my marriage to Annabella Marcelo. In two months.

I protested all I could but my father threatened that if I didn't agree to the arrangement, my birth right would be stripped from me and handed to my sister. He had me by the balls.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a sexist persona, but I would absolutely hate for my dear sister to somehow get entangled with this blood ridden world of ours. I refuse to repeat my mistakes of not being able to protect my own.

After my father had passed the information to me about my marriage to Annabella, I began thinking about it deeply. Annabella isn't the type of woman to get married for the sake of it, and even if she is willing to be married, her father knows of my reputation too well to allow his precious daughter even an inch close to me.

I've always had my suspicions when it came down to Marcelo.

He might be consigliere but this is Cosa Nostra-Sicilian Mafia-and my famiglia is one, if not the biggest of the five families that runs the affairs of Cosa Nostra.

No one is to be trusted. Not even your own self.

And in my thirty years of being alive, and at least twenty years of being a sworn member of the mafia, I've never been regarded a fool and I'm not about to become one neither will I feign ignorance to the foul play being displayed right before my eyes.

The idea of marriage is one that repulses me but the idea of being married to a girl like Annabella could drive me to a very ugly place. Annabella is an overbearing, dominating, rude, disrespectful, whore whose only concern is playing by her father's rules and sucking any dick she can get her hands on.

Funny that my father would want such a woman for a daughter in law.

Being a very curious man that I am, a man so curious that he does not rest until he's gotten all the answers he needs, I began digging deep, secretly searching for whatever information I could get my hands on until I finally found something.

I'm hardly ever wrong.

I knew something had to give with this whole arrangement and I knew it deep down in my gut. Thankfully, I made a new discovery.

A discovery that seemed a little too suspicious.

Annabella has a twin sister-Mirabella.

A sister they've kept hidden for God knows how long.

I had my men track her down and uproot whatever information they could on her, and within a few days we were breaking into her laboratory located in Milan.

Mirabella wasn't there in her lab but I got every information I needed, ranging from pictures to very personal and not so personal belongings.

Why would I be getting married to Annabella and they haven't once mentioned her sister?

Something to think about.

But looking at Mirabella's pictures, I was immediately intrigued. Her eyes. Fuck, her eyes, there're so enchanting, intimidating, phenomenal. One ice cold and the other emerald green-perfection doesn't even explain those irises.

She might be identical to Annabella but there's something about this one, something that had me wanting to meet her, something that played with my head so much so I almost asked that she be given to me in marriage in place of her sister but I held myself back.

Fuck.

She has me locked in and I've only seen her pictures.

Well, the fact changed.

Exactly one month and two weeks later, I'm seated in a restaurant with my family, getting ready to have one last dinner with my wife to be and her father. Just as the door to the private area slides open, my eyes fall on this thought-provoking, radiant young woman who looks exactly like my supposed fiancée only there's something different about her.

One glance at her and I know she's not Annabella but Mirabella. The way she's dressed, her hair, her make up, her dentition when she gives my mother a genuine smile-everything about her screams the girl I saw in the picture. Mirabella.

Interesting.

My eyebrows twitch, my heart skipping a beat from the effect of her presence and I immediately curse myself. I'm supposed to be more concerned as to why I was promised another sister and is being given another.

I've always known Marcelo to be a cunning bastard, but this game of his, I have no choice than to play along until I'm sure why he's making a dangerous move of this manner. And of course to make certain that I get hold of everything I might need to bring the bastard down.

I've always hated him for some reason.

And this is my chance to ruin him in the many ways I've imagined.

"You're late. And one would think you were making an effort to look good," I tease the woman in front of me in attempt to get a reaction out of her but she only turns around, narrowing her eyes at me as if taking in every inch of me-my facial features. Evident fear in her eyes.

Speaking of the eyes, something seems off.

I stay silent as well, taking in every inch of her but I'm quick to catch myself before I drift too far. Instead of letting her the pleasure of eye fucking me, I tease her further. "Are you going to say something? Or are going to keep gawking at me the entire night?"

She doesn't say a word to me. She clears her throat and picks up her cutleries.

My jaw tightens in anger, but there's also a feeling of satisfaction-Annabella would never ignore me, but I see now her twin is a feisty one and a snub.

She might look naive but she's definitely feisty.

She has absolutely no idea what she's getting herself involved in agreeing to this sick arrangement but she'll soon be made aware.

After the wedding of course.

I barely get any food down my throat during the course of the dinner but only because I'm so occupied with staring at my soon to be wife. And I know she knows I'm staring from the way she squirms on her seat. A part of me feels ecstatic about this and the other part wants to rip her and her stupid father apart for lying to me.

I loathe liars.

Image

Mirabella trails off to the restroom after having what seems like a long, uncomfortable conversation with my mother and I follow behind her. Anything to get close to her, anything to take in her features and be certain I'm not misidentifying her.

"You seem nervous," I whisper, slamming the restroom door shut, making sure to click the lock twice before stalking over to her.

What name do I address her by now that I'm aware of who she really is?

I guess we should stick with Annabella, since she's decided to impersonate her sister.

I hold her gaze through the mirror, quirking a brow, nudging her to speak but also using the opportunity to take a better look at her. She's quick to notice my game play when my eyes narrow into slits and she immediately returns her gaze to the ground before speaking.

"I-isn't it normal for a bride to get nervous once her big day is nearing?"

I chuckle dryly as I motion towards her. She matches each step I take forward by taking the same step backward until her back is against the marble counter. I hum, dragging in a breath, completely losing myself to her fragrance. "Except, that bride wanted this wedding so desperately."

"Don't you want it? Matteo?" She enquires.

"You have no idea, Annabella. The idea of getting married repulses me. And you, I detest you for agreeing to this. But if you could make a deal with me," I trail my fingers across her cleavage and she backs herself up more into the counter looking to create some level of distance between us. "You're the only person capable of ending this absurd arrangement, whatever you want, just name it and it'll be yours. But I need you to go out there and call off this bullshit."

She doesn't answer. She's silent as though contemplating on what her decision will be.

"You're too close Matteo," She whispers, her gaze never lifting from the ground. It becomes a desperate need to have her look up at me.

"You had no complaints the other time Annabella." I rasp and I'm immediately satisfied when her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Her reaction clearly confirms that we've never crossed paths in the past.

"Look at me for a second, Annabella," I finally order her impatiently, my words gentle. She obeys. Surprisingly. My knuckles rest beneath her chin, keeping her head up, my thumb stroking her jaw whilst my eyes subtly dart around her face, noting the differences in her facial features compared to Annabella's.

Contact lenses?

Really?

Out of satisfaction, I let out a scoff, my head bobbing.

Angers courses through my veins at the thought that Marcelo takes me for a fool so much so that he didn't even attempt disguising his daughter better.

Oh, she's so done.

They're so done.

For a moment there, I almost pull my gun and empty my chamber on her, but being a logical thinker, I decide against it.

There'll be no use starting a war over some little, desperate piece of nothing.

Every other event from tonight suddenly gets me riled up but in a fun way. Her reactions when I'd tease her, and oh, I had to get rid of her drunken boyfriend.

Why bother yourself with alcohol if you can't handle the aftermath?

Fucking cunt.

Now that I know whom I'm truly marrying, my next mission would be discovering the reason behind this game the Marcelo's have chosen to play with us. The Denaro's.

But one thing is for sure, it is going to be a very deadly game.

Deadly but interesting.