How to Escape from a Ruthless Mobster

Point of View: Beatrice

Leaving my cozy little house in Palermo wasn’t something I wanted, but my father had other plans. With my twenty-first birthday looming, he organized a family trip to the Bahamas. A celebration, he called it, though I had a sinking feeling there was more to it.  

My father didn’t do simple.  

***

“Dad?” I called, my voice soft as I wandered barefoot through the hall of the rented villa. The place was beautiful, all sleek wood floors and breezy blue walls, but the tension in the air made it feel stifling. I followed the trail of muted voices and faint cigar smoke to the office—his sanctuary, even on vacation.  

Knocking sharply, I pushed the door open without waiting. He was seated behind a massive desk, head bowed, hands pressed to his temples.  

“Bea,” he said, looking up, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.  

I crossed the room in seconds, throwing my arms around him. He held me close, his hand brushing through my hair, but there was a stiffness to his touch I couldn’t ignore.  

“Sit down,” he said quietly. “We need to talk.”  

I froze, the pit in my stomach deepening. My father’s voice had shifted into something solemn—dangerous, even.  

“What’s going on?” I asked, lowering myself into the chair opposite him. His fingers fidgeted on the desk, a rare crack in his normally unshakable demeanor.  

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “It’s time for you to think about your future. For the good of our family.”  

Here it comes.  

“I’ve arranged for you to marry Ryuu Morunaga.”  

The words slammed into me, sharp and unforgiving.  

“What?” My voice was barely above a whisper.  

He continued, unflinching. “It’s a strategic alliance. His family’s power, combined with ours, will ensure security for everyone we care about.”  

I stared at him, numb. Ryuu Morunaga. Even in Palermo, I’d heard the name—the heir to a criminal empire that made my father’s operations look quaint. The Morunagas weren’t partners. They were predators.  

“Dad, no. You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice rising.  

“This isn’t a negotiation, Beatrice,” he said sharply, his gaze hardening.  

“Not a negotiation?” My laugh was bitter. “You’re throwing me to the wolves and calling it ‘family loyalty.’ Do I even get a say in this?”  

His jaw clenched. “You think I want this? You think I’d risk your happiness if there were another way?”  

“Then don’t do it!” I snapped, my fists curling against the armrests.  

For a moment, his mask slipped. I saw the fear behind his eyes, the weight of whatever pressure had driven him to this. He looked older than I’d ever seen him, the gray streaks in his hair more prominent under the dim light.  

“I’m not asking you, Beatrice. I’m telling you.”  

The finality of his words crushed me. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and the taste of betrayal burned on my tongue.  

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “Fine. I’ll do it.”  

They felt like poison. I stood before he could respond, brushing tears from my cheeks and heading for the door. My legs carried me away on autopilot, but inside, I was screaming.  

My father had always promised to protect me. Now, he’d handed me over to a devil. 

The lucky groom? Ryuu Morunaga. Infamous heir to one of the most dangerous crime families in the world. Human trafficking, prostitution rings—his family’s “business ventures” made the FBI’s Most Wanted list look like a church bulletin. And now I was supposed to marry into that?  

The Morunaga dynasty didn’t just reek of power—it bled fear. At the top sat Gojou Morunaga, the patriarch, whose last genuine smile probably happened before the moon landing. Sharp eyes, a permanent scowl, and a presence that screamed, I don’t need to raise my voice to end you.

Then came the sons. The youngest, Nitta, was their PR disaster—always in the tabloids, always escaping convictions. Fukui, the middle son, was quieter but no less dangerous, with an unnerving ability to disappear from public view entirely.  

And then there was Ryuu—the heir. My future husband. He wasn’t movie-star handsome; he was predator handsome. Sharp cheekbones, jet-black hair, and a presence that made you want to step back without knowing why. Women? He had no reputation with them—his empire was his one true love. So why would my father think this was a good idea?  

I couldn’t stand to look at him after this. The man who swore to protect me had just handed me over to the wolves. The Morunagas weren’t just bad—they were apocalyptic. Following the faint sound of music, I headed toward the sitting room, clinging to the hope my grandfather could make sense of this.  

When I entered, the comforting sight of my grandfather was overshadowed by four men seated around the table. My heart dropped as I recognized them: Gojou Morunaga and his sons.  

Gojou’s dark eyes locked onto me immediately, dissecting me like prey. His smile was all teeth, fake and unnerving. 

“Beatrice, isn’t it?” he said smoothly, his voice rich but cold.  

“Yes,” I managed, stepping further into the room. My grandfather gave me a pointed look that screamed, mind your manners.  

“These are my sons: Fukui, Nitta, and Ryuu,” Gojou continued, gesturing lazily toward each. I barely registered the first two because my eyes went straight to the eldest. Ryuu sat rigid, his sharp features shadowed by sunglasses, his expression unreadable but clearly unamused.  

“We thought it's best for you and Ryuu to meet sooner rather than later,” Gojou added. “Naturally, a fiancé would want to be near such a lovely bride.”  

Lovely bride? The bile rose in my throat. But before I could respond, Gojou stood and hugged me. It was stiff, invasive, and left me frozen. As he leaned close, his voice dropped into a low whisper.  

“I expect great things from you, Beatrice.”  

His words chilled me more than his cold hands on my back. When he finally released me, his fake smile returned, and my fists clenched at my sides.  

The rest of the room stayed silent, the tension stretching unbearably. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said tightly, forcing a polite smile. “I need to unpack.”  

No one stopped me as I turned and left, though I could feel Ryuu’s eyes following me until the door closed behind me. 

***

Point of View: Ryuu

Two days. That’s how long I’d had to process my father’s announcement that I was getting married. It wasn’t up for debate—nothing ever was with Gojou Morunaga. I could argue all I wanted, but his decisions were final.  

At first, I thought this was about business—merging our family’s empire with the Carbones. But that didn’t track. My father didn’t need Giacomo Carbone. He could’ve crushed him without blinking. No, this was personal, and I hated that I couldn’t figure out why.  

Beatrice Carbone. I’d seen her photo once—elegant, striking, the kind of beauty that made men lose their minds. But beauty didn’t matter to me. What mattered was whether she could survive in my world without breaking.  

When I saw her in person, it hit me: she was even more beautiful than the photo. But the look in her eyes wasn’t what I expected. There was no fear, no resignation. Just fury.  

I was sitting on the villa’s patio, the ocean stretching out in front of me, when I saw her again. She stepped onto the sand, oblivious to my presence. Barefoot, graceful, and determined, she walked as if the weight of her situation didn’t touch her.  

“Enjoying the view already?”  

Fukui’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. He dropped into the chair across from me, setting two glasses of whiskey on the table. I glared at him, annoyed.  

“She’s not my wife yet,” I muttered, taking the glass and downing it in one gulp.  

“Not yet,” he teased, smirking. “Father’s probably expecting a baby within the year.”  

I snorted, pouring another drink. “Father can expect whatever he wants. That doesn’t mean it’s happening.”  

“You really think you can stop him?” Fukui asked, raising an eyebrow. “This is Father. You know how this works.”  

Before I could answer, the door to the beach creaked open again. Fukui and I both turned in time to see Nitta striding confidently toward Beatrice.  

“Looks like Nitta’s about to stir up trouble,” Fukui muttered, leaning back with a grin.  

My jaw tightened as I watched our younger brother approach her. Nitta lived for chaos, and Beatrice wasn’t ready for it.  

“Let him,” I said, though my hand gripped the glass tighter than I intended. “He’ll learn soon enough.”  

Whether she was ready for this marriage or not, one thing was certain: no one messed with what was mine.  

And like it or not, Beatrice Carbone was about to be mine.