Chapter 3

Isabella's POV

My father's voice carried down the hallway, sharp and commanding, even before I reached the dining room. He had been on edge all day, barking orders at the staff, ensuring every corner of the house gleamed like a shrine.

When he finally summoned me, his expression was carved from stone.

"Tonight is important, Isabella," he said, his dark eyes drilling into mine. "Adrian Moretti is coming. We will be discussing business. You will be present. You will be silent. And you will look the part."

My stomach tightened. The name alone was enough to steal my breath. Adrian Moretti. The Don whispered about in the same tone as death itself.

I opened my mouth, but my father cut me off with a glare. "No arguments. Go. Dress appropriately. Elegant. Refined. You'll make a good impression."

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing my voice into a steady tone. "Why does it matter what I wear?"

"Because he is an important man," my father snapped. "And important men expect respect."

Important. That word was just another mask for dangerous.

When I turned away, my mother was waiting at the base of the stairs, her hands wringing the silk of her robe. Her eyes softened when she saw me, and she reached out as if she could take some of the weight from my shoulders.

"Come," she said gently. "I'll help you get ready."

In my room, she chose a dress from my wardrobe-a deep emerald green that clung to my figure without being indecent. The fabric shimmered under the light, elegant but strong. She smoothed the shoulders with delicate fingers, her touch lingering longer than necessary.

"You look beautiful," she whispered. "Remember, strength is in how you carry yourself. Do not let him see fear."

Her words echoed the same warning she'd given me my whole life, but tonight they felt heavier.

By the time the sound of engines rumbled outside, my heart was beating hard against my ribs. I entered Papa's office with my father at my side, my mother trailing behind us.

Twenty minutes, and he is still not here.

So here we are sitting in Papa's office waiting for the old man who obviously couldn't tell time to meet me.

"Papa...." i was cut off by a guard.

" Don Moretti is coming"

Papa instantly got up to fix himself which i scoff to.

I closed my eyes until i heard the door open.

Adrian Moretti stepped inside, the air shifting with him. He was taller than I expected, his presence filling the space like a storm. His suit was black, tailored to perfection, his dark hair slicked back. His eyes-sharp, piercing-swept the room before landing on me.

He was deadly handsome and sexy, i'd give you that, which was not what i expected.

His sculpted body allowed me to see his muscles bulging from that undershirt.

I gulped without realising it.

His facial expression serious. Not even a slight smile.

For one long, unbearable moment, he stared. Not like a man admiring a woman, but like a predator measuring prey. Cold. Possessive. Certain.

My breath caught, though I forced my chin up, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze.

Then, just as quickly, his attention flicked away, dismissing me entirely as he greeted my father.

"Giovanni," he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "Let's not waste time."

I stood silently, just as ordered, but every nerve in my body burned.

This was the man I was meant to marry.

And he hadn't even looked at me as if I were human.

The dining room had never felt so suffocating. The chandelier's light gleamed off the polished mahogany table, turning every crystal glass into a prism of sharp, glittering edges. My father took his place at the head, Adrian to his right. I was instructed to sit silently beside my mother, a decorative piece rather than a participant.

Dinner was served, though no one seemed interested in food. My father launched straight into business, his tone clipped, rehearsed.

"The docks are expanding," he said. "New shipments from Palermo. I'll need protection, smooth passage. In exchange, your cut will double."

Adrian leaned back in his chair, knife and fork untouched. His gaze was fixed on my father, sharp and unyielding.

"Double," he repeated softly, as though tasting the word. "That depends. You've had problems with loyalty before."

My father stiffened, his jaw tightening.

Adrian's voice dropped lower, colder. "Men who betray deserve one punishment. You know my way of handling such... inconveniences."

I tried not to shiver. Everyone in the room knew what his "way" meant. Blood. Finality.

My father chuckled awkwardly, raising his glass. "That is precisely why I need you, Moretti. You inspire fear. You command respect. With you beside me, there will be no disloyalty."

Adrian's eyes flicked to me then, briefly, as if to remind me that I, too, was part of this transaction. His stare was searing, yet empty, and I felt pinned beneath it until he turned away again.

"And in return?" Adrian asked smoothly.

My father hesitated, then set his glass down. The sound of crystal meeting wood was deafening in the silence.

"In return," he said slowly, "you'll have access to my docks. My men. My influence. And..." His eyes slid toward me, hard as stone. "My daughter."

The word landed like a blade.

Adrian didn't so much as blink. His expression remained unreadable, but I saw the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth-a wolf satisfied with his meal.

"A marriage," he murmured, as if the idea were nothing more than a ledger entry. "Efficient. Practical. Beneficial for both families."

My pulse roared in my ears. A marriage? Spoken as if I were a coin tossed into a deal?

Adrian turned to my father fully now. "I agree. But understand this-if I take her, she becomes mine. No interference. No hesitation. She will belong to me in every sense of the word."

I gasped softly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the tablecloth. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet the weight of his claim pressed down on me like chains.

My father only nodded, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Of course. She'll make you a fine wife."

Adrian's gaze drifted to me one last time, lingering just long enough to send a chill down my spine. There was no warmth, no affection-only calculation, as though he were already deciding how best to use me.

He looked at me once again before sighing " i will take her"

Rage overtook me.

Was I something in the store he could just take.

Dinner ended with toasts and shallow laughter, but I couldn't taste a single thing. By the time I returned to my room, my heart felt hollow.

I had been traded away.

And Adrian Moretti had accepted without hesitation

Chapter Four

Isabella's POV

The deal had been struck, sealed with wine and handshakes. To my father, the night was a triumph. To me, it was a cage snapping shut.

When Adrian finally rose from the table, all dark lines and quiet menace, my father's hand clamped down on my shoulder.

"Isabella," he said firmly, as though I might resist. "Escort your future husband to his car. It is only proper."

Future husband. The words soured on my tongue. Still, I nodded, because defiance in front of him was unthinkable.

Adrian waited near the door, his expression unreadable, as if he already knew I would obey. Without a word, he gestured for me to lead. The weight of his presence trailed after me, heavy, suffocating.

The night air outside was cool, the scent of rain clinging to the stone walkway. His sleek black car waited at the edge of the drive, flanked by two men in suits whose eyes never wavered.

I turned to face him, chin lifted despite the thundering of my heart. "Do you always agree to marriages like business contracts?"

His brows arched slightly, the barest flicker of amusement crossing his features. "You don't approve?" His voice was smooth, deep, carrying an edge that mocked me for even questioning him.

"I don't belong to anyone," I said quietly, though my voice trembled.

He stepped closer, invading my space with calculated ease. I could feel the heat of him, the subtle spice of his cologne. His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and consuming.

"You already do," he murmured, so low I thought I imagined it. "You just don't realize it yet."

My breath caught, anger and fear tangling in my chest. "You're wrong."

Something flickered in his gaze-challenge, maybe

even intrigue-but just as quickly, the mask returned. He leaned back, his lips curving into the faintest, cruelest smile.

"You'll learn," he said simply.

Before I could retort, one of his men opened the car door. Adrian slid inside without a glance back, leaving me standing alone in the night, my fists clenched at my sides.

For the first time, I understood exactly what it meant to be prey.

Adrain POV

The ride home was silent, the hum of the engine filling the space while the city lights bled past the tinted windows. I leaned back against the leather seat, loosening my tie, letting the events of the night replay with mechanical precision.

The deal was solid. Giovanni would provide me with access to his docks, his network, and his silence. In return, I gave him what he craved-protection, fear, the weight of my name.

And his daughter.

I almost laughed at the thought. Isabella had looked at me as if I'd stolen the ground from beneath her feet. Fire in her eyes, trembling in her voice. She was naïve, raised in silk and shadows, but there was steel under the surface. I saw it when she dared to speak back to me, when she tried to claim she belonged to no one.

That defiance would break. They all broke eventually.

"Home," I said flatly, my voice cutting through the stillness.

"Yes, sir," Marco replied from the driver's seat.

When the car pulled up the long drive to my mansion, the iron gates closed behind us with a metallic groan. The house loomed in the night-sharp lines, dark windows, a fortress carved from wealth and fear.

Marco stepped out quickly, hurrying to open my door. "I'll stay with the men, make sure everything is secure."

I nodded once. "Good. Take the night when you're done."

"Yes, sir."

Inside, the silence was different. Not the tense quiet of negotiations, but the hollow kind that clung to empty halls. I shrugged off my jacket, handed it to the maid without a glance, and climbed the staircase.

The master suite was dark until I flicked on the light. I stripped away the armor of the day-tie, shirt, cufflinks-before stepping into the shower. Hot water pounded against my skin, streaking down the scars I never bothered to hide. Scars earned, scars that reminded me of why softness had no place in my world.

Marriage. The word tasted strange. It wasn't about loyalty, or love. It was strategy. Control. Giovanni's daughter was nothing more than another asset-beautiful, yes, but still a pawn.

And yet... her eyes lingered in my mind. Green fire behind the fear. The way she stood her ground, even when I claimed her.

I shut off the water abruptly, irritated by the thought. She meant nothing.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I crossed the room to the balcony. The city stretched below me, restless and alive. From here, I owned it. Every deal, every debt, every life taken in my name.

Still, as I lit a cigarette, I caught myself wondering how long it would take before Isabella realized the truth.

She wasn't entering a marriage.

She was stepping into a cage.

And I held the key.

Chapter Five

Isabella's POV

One month. That was all it took for my life to become unrecognizable.

One minute i was standing in my father's office and the next i was in a hotel room in a wedding dress.

I spent the last month packing up my life in Palermo Sicily.

The days blurred together, each one a countdown to the wedding that had been decided for me without my voice. My father walked taller, prouder, already basking in the glow of his alliance with Adrian Moretti. My mother tried to smile for me, her hands soft on mine, but I could see the sadness in her eyes every time she looked at me.

It was tradition, they said. In Italian weddings, the groom sent the dress.

Adrian didn't come himself, of course. Instead, his driver arrived one morning, carrying a garment bag like a soldier delivering orders. My mother and I unzipped it together, revealing ivory silk that shimmered like starlight. The lace was delicate, intricate, beautiful. Too beautiful for what it meant.

I touched the fabric, cold dread sinking into me. This was no gift-it was a declaration. You are mine. Even your wedding dress will bear my mark.

The morning of the wedding came too quickly.

Hence we are getting married in a church and not having an outdoor ceremony like i have always wanted.

I've always dreamed of getting married on s beach with my closest people around me surrounded with smiles and laughter.

But girls can't dream in a mafia life. I barely had a say in the wedding arrangements.

As my mother fastened the final buttons of the gown, she whispered, "You are strong, Isabella. Stronger than you know. Do not let him see your fear."

"I'm scared" I admitted it out loud for the first time since all of this started.

"I know and I'm sorry i couldn't stop it, it's going to be fine" She said as she took my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I tried to believe her, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror, all I saw was a girl dressed as a bride, walking into a cage.

The church was filled with faces I recognized from whispers, men with sharp suits and sharper eyes, women glittering with jewels. Mafia royalty, gathered to witness the merging of two empires.

With deep breath, i stepped up to the alter coming face to face with Adrain Moretti in all of his glory.

He wore black, of course-tailored to perfection, every line of him cut from arrogance and power. But it wasn't his clothes that stole the air from my lungs.

It was him.

The glossy sweep of black hair, neatly styled but rebelliously falling across his forehead. The lashes, so long they shadowed his piercing eyes. High cheekbones, sharp jaw, and lips-softly pink, too beautiful for a man who carried so much darkness inside him.

The church hushed as he looked at me. Not with warmth. Not with love. But with a gaze that lingered, burning, as though he was both irritated by me and fascinated at the same time.

When I stepped forward, my father's arm stiff beside mine, my heart pounded so hard I feared it might echo in the silence. Adrian's eyes never left mine.

In that moment, I hated him for his beauty. Because beauty was a trap, and Adrian Moretti was the deadliest snare of them all.

Adrain's mulky green eyes were cold and devoid of warmth. He looked at me as if I wasn't there.

Meanwhile my heart was pounding and palms sweating like crazy.

The priest was alongside us, ready to start the ceremony with a peppy smile on his face.

And i wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying.

How could i when i was avoiding looking directly at the person right across from me.

He was standing there handsomely without a smile on his face staring int my soul. Dressed in his fancy black suit and looking dangerously handsome.

The priest's words rang in my ears like a final verdict.

"With this ring, I thee wed."

Adrian slid the band onto my finger, his touch firm, unyielding. My hand trembled, but I forced my chin higher, refusing to let him see the fear pressing against my ribs.

Then it was my turn. My lips shaped the words, but they didn't feel like mine. They belonged to duty, to bloodlines, to the empire my father wanted to build.

When the priest finally declared us husband and wife, Adrian didn't hesitate. He leaned in, his hand cupping the side of my face and i automatically closed my eyes out of fear before i felt his soft, warm lips pressed on top of mine.

It wasn't gentle. But it was sweet.

It was possessive. Fierce. His lips claimed mine with a passion that stole my breath, a reminder that this was my first kiss-and he had taken it, branded it, made it his.

My knees weakened, and when his eyes locked onto mine afterward, I felt a shiver race through me. Dark, endless, unrelenting, his gaze held me captive. It was as though he wanted me to drown in it, to know with certainty that escape was impossible.

Applause erupted behind us, but I barely heard it. My world had narrowed to the pounding of my heart and the man whose lips still lingered on mine.

And just like that Isabella Romano became Isabella Moretti.

~~~~~~~~

The reception that followed was grand, dazzling, filled with toasts and laughter that didn't reach my ears. I smiled when required, accepted congratulations, danced when pushed to-but I felt like a doll in a glass case, watched and judged.

Adrian stayed close, his hand always at the small of my back, his presence both protective and suffocating. He didn't drink much, didn't laugh, didn't indulge in pleasantries. He was simply there, radiating control, every guest bowing to him with respect tinged with fear.

Halfway through the evening, he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "We're leaving."

It wasn't a request.

My breath hitched. "The reception isn't over."

His gaze burned into mine, and he smirked faintly. "It is for us."

I swallowed hard, glancing toward the head table where my parents sat. My father's eyes glittered with satisfaction, but my mother's gaze found mine-soft, wet with unspoken words.

"I need to say goodbye," I whispered.

Adrian gave a curt nod, though his hand never left me as he led me toward them.

My father kissed my cheek, his words sharp and prideful. "Remember who you are, Isabella. You are a Romano. Don't shame us."

My throat tightened, but I managed a nod.

My mother embraced me next, holding me tighter than she ever had before. "You'll be all right," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You are stronger than you know. And no matter what, my heart goes with you."

I clung to her for a moment, fighting back the tears threatening to fall, before Adrian's hand closed over mine, tugging me gently but firmly away.

When we stepped out into the night, his car waiting with its dark promise, I knew there was no going back.

I was his now.

Completely.