Strong-willed, badass and bounded by the chains of an arranged marriage, Isabela Arias dreams of the freedom to live and love as she chooses.
Being sold to the Italian mafia wasn't exactly on Isabela's to do list...
As she's forced to navigate the r...
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My fingers tap against the leather armrest, glancing at the view of the clouds from the plane's window. Saying yes to Lorenzo was the easiest thing I'd done all year. In two days' time, Lorenzo planned all the arrangements to fly us to my hometown, the Bronx.
My heart thumps in my ribcage, expanding and decompressing like a balloon filled with helium. Things are different now. I'm not returning as Vincenzo's long-lost daughter. Instead, in their eyes, I aligned myself and married our enemy. We will be exiled before I even have a chance to defend myself.
"Nervous?" Lorenzo asks, downing another champagne glass. This man is a borderline alcoholic. I've yet to see him without alcohol in his hands. "We should land in about an hour."
I exhale. "A little bit. It's going to be all sunshine and rainbows until everyone sees Damien. I'm stupid, but I'm not a pushover. They will never believe I married Damien of my own free will, especially after killing my brothers."
Lorenzo rubs his chin. "My brother and I discussed this last night. We agreed it's better to say you're married to me. I'm the boss, after all, and it makes more sense for you to be married to me. We're not completely in the clear, but Damien is willing to take a few bullets for the family business."
"So, I'm introducing you as my husband?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement, trying to make everything of this situation. "Then what's Damien's purpose here? He won't be allowed to step foot in my family's quarters without an uprising." Tension simmers on my skin.
My eyebrow arches as Lorenzo uses his thumbs to massage my forehead, muttering the word 'sh... sh...' "Relax. Turn around." Reluctantly, I shift my back to face Lorenzo, receiving his hands on my shoulders. He digs his fingers into the ridges of my tense shoulders, extricating the knots in my bones. "Everything will go fine. Damien will be too busy trying to put his dick into something to bother you or your family. The only Moltisanti you have to worry about is me."
This almost sounds like music to my ears. Neither Moltisanti would be better, but I can't have everything.
"My masterpiece looks perfect," Lorenzo says, trailing his fingers down the slope of my open-back satin dress.
"You fucking tainted my wife with that ugly shit," Damien complains, spitting his mouthful of corn on the floor. "She was perfect before. Finally, a size zero, big-doll eyes, thick ass, clean skin-- one change ruins everything!"
He chuckles. "You have a special way of charming a woman."
"That's why I get more pussy than you!" Damien barks, spitting another mouthful of corn on the floor. It's sickening. Bile threatens to crawl up my throat like a spider. "Being married doesn't stop me."
My legs clench. The amount of times Rocco had to take me to an emergency appointment with my gynecologist this year is concerning. After getting syphilis for the fourth time in a row, I convinced Damien to wrap his shit. I'm surprised it hasn't fallen off from all the diseases he's gotten.
