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Betrothed to The Don.

Betrothed to The Don.

Dobbergirl

4.0
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Lucia I'm thrown into a world of chaos when I hear that my family is part of the Italian mafia. No, scratch that - my family is the Italian mafia - and as tradition states, I'll be getting married to the bratva head. My world is in shambles when I see how cold and ruthless my husband is. Despite how handsome and attractive he is, I give myself one assignment; stay as far away from him as possible. But as neither my body nor my heart gets the message, I have to think of a way to conceal my emotions from him. Ivan My life's purpose has always been to take over from my father as the head of the bratva. That's practically what I was born for; to kill and destroy. But for that to happen, I must get married, which isn't a problem since an arranged marriage to the Italian mafia princess has long been formed for us. What becomes a problem is the strange feelings that begin to steer within me the moment I'm married to my wife. Now I have another purpose added to the list; kill, destroy and love.

Chapter 1 LUCIA

I stare at the back of the head of the man sitting four rows ahead of me. He's yelling at someone over the phone. Probably his personal assistant, Pietro. Poor guy.

He must sense that he's being watched because he turns and looks straight at me. I don't break eye contact, though. I stare at him head-on like he taught me to. He doesn't say another word to Pietro, except to stare at me intently... like he's looking into my soul through my eyeballs. I break out into a sweat from nervousness because I am no longer comfortable. We've been staring at each other for a minute now.

I'm about to give up when he smiles and breaks eye contact. I'm jumping internally but I don't smile back at him. He doesn't deserve my smile.

"What did he do to you this time?" Antonio, my older brother, sits beside me.

He knows damn well why my mood is sour. It's always like this whenever I'm in the same room with our father. Well... not a room per say. We're sitting at the airport waiting for the go ahead from our family pilot, Edward, that the jet is ready for take off.

"Bambina..." That's the Italian word for baby. Only my brother calls me that and I love him for it. I swear, Antonio acts like my personal bodyguard. He's never too far away from me except when he's at work with dad. He has always treated me like an egg, protecting me from things I know nothing of. I guess it's normal to want to protect me, considering he's my elder brother. If I must say, I've made his job quite easy since I'm always keeping to myself. "... you know you can't ignore him forever, right? It's been three months." He finishes.

Of course I know that. But I'm certainly not going to admit it.

"He doesn't want me to have a life!" I whisper yell at him. I'm just so tired. Tired of my dad. Tired of everyone acting like everything is okay when it isn't.

"You know that's not true, Lucia. Dad just wants what's best for you. "

"I'm sick of hearing you say that." I say, already tired of this conversation.

Over a year ago, I met this really cute guy, Alfred. Alfred was a sweetheart who was also my first kiss. I had my first date with him and I really did like him, though we never slept together. We just weren't ready for that. Well technically I was the one who wasn't ready. I just felt that the time wasn't right for sex which I was a hundred percent sure that he totally understood.

Three months ago, since Antonio was out of the country on a business trip, I told my dad about him which I eventually learnt to be a grave mistake because that became the last time I ever saw him. Alfred broke up with me via text. I don't know for a fact, but I have a hunch that my dad was behind the breakup. Because it made no sense.

I cried for a while but eventually I realized that I was only wasting my precious tears on the spineless asshole. The least he could do was give me a call.

"I'm sure you do, and I'm also sure he feels like shit too." I nearly forgot Antonio was still here.

"As he should." I turn away from him, crossing my arms over my chest with my chin raised high. Antonio gives up and hands me my overnight bag.

I still don't know where we're even going. Dad just gave me instructions to pack a bag for a short trip to Russia. I can't say I was eager to do so but I wasn't left with a choice because it wasn't a request. It sounded urgent yet... sad? I was probably overthinking things. I have it in mind to ask Antonio about the purpose of the trip when he says "Walk with dad. He has something to tell you." With that, he walks away to get his bag and heads outside. Edward must have called already.

I turn to look at dad who is still sitting and walk towards him.

"Antonio said you have something to say to me. What do you want?" I say in a sort of hostile tone. I would be lying if I said I didn't mean to, but seeing his reaction breaks my heart. I've never spoken to him in such a rude manner. Ever. I expect him to react but seeing him do quite the opposite is way worse. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't mean to be rude." I gently sit beside him.

"What's the problem?" I ask because I'm genuinely concerned.

Everyone is probably seated at the jet by now including Pietro who walked in minutes after his conversation with my dad. "Is something wrong with the business?" I ask again because he isn't saying anything.

He seems to be figuring out a way to tell me something. It's almost like he wants to break a news to me.

Upon realization, I ready myself. To be honest, I'm not really bothered. What news could be as bad as the heartless breakup text I got months ago?

"The Russian mafia is interested in you for their son, Lucia." my dad finally speaks.

I look at him with an open mouth. The Russian what wants me for who?

How?

How do they know me?

I don't think I'm even asking the right questions.

"M-me? How?" Is all that comes out of my mouth.

"It has always been the plan, il mio bambino" That's Italian for my child. But I don't think I'm in the right mood or state of mind to appreciate the endearing term. No.

"What is that supposed to mean? If it's a mutual agreement, then the Russians aren't the only ones who want this to happen. You do too!" I still realize I haven't asked the question that matters. "Why are you involved with the Russian mafia, dad?"

I think I already know the answer to this. I'm no fool. I've just never wanted to acknowledge it. Why else would both Dad and Antonio be so protective of me? I see the guy who follows me every single day I step out of the house when i was still volunteering at an animal shelter. At first I thought I was just being paranoid, but then I saw him again and again and again and thereafter, I just got used to his presence. I used to think he wasn't aware that I had blown his cover, but eventually I realized he was very much aware. I'm that observant.

I had friends in school whose families were part of the mafia. No, scratch that. I knew people. My friends were as innocent as they came.

I think.

I always suspected my family was into drugs or something like that. But hearing this... this is way beyond something like that.

"Because I am the Italian mafia's Capo di tutti capi"

Boss of all bosses

Boss of all bosses?

Boss of all bosses?!

So my dad's like the bosses, bosses...boss? I want to be impressed. Hell! I am actually really impressed but I can't shake off the fact that an arranged marriage has long been planned on my behalf. It's not like there's anyone I'm currently dating or in love with- thanks to you know who- but still. It's my life these two syndicates are toying with. I must have thought that last part out loud because my dad quickly interjects. "We are not toying with your life, my child. It is just what must be done"

"What did you think, dad? That you'd tell me to marry some Russian stranger and I would agree to it?" Now I am angry. How stupid do they think I am to accept such a proposal? I say they because there is no way Antonio doesn't know about this. That's why he ran off to the jet.

Coward

"No baby. He's no stranger to the family"

"Do I know him?" I know the answer is a No, but I want him to say it.

"Not yet..." and there it is. I'm about to give a reply when he finishes with finality in his voice. "But you will in a few hours"

Then it dawns on me that this is exactly what I packed an overnight bag for.

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