My New Bride Is A Stranger

_LORENZO <3

"Father, you sent for me." I said curtly, as I walked into his office. I noticed my mother standing behind his chair, where he sat behind his desk.

"Lorenzo, take a seat." he said, shifting on his chair to get more comfortable.

I went to sit down on the chair opposite him with a neutral expression on my face.

"Son, marriage is vital to becoming a boss of full potential. Your mother is the reason I have gotten past the burden and weight it is to be the Mafia boss." he stated.

"I cannot give another woman my heart. I do not love." My voice was cold, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"The bond of marriage is powerful, my love. It gives you the strength to share and express feelings—" I cut my mother off.

"I refuse feeling, Mother. I refuse to love again. I fucking loathe the idea of sharing anything with another woman." I spat out, venom lacing my tone.

"That does not change the law, son. A Mafia boss must take a wife to be given bigger responsibility, and if he turns thirty without a wife, he is to be replaced."

“I did not make these rules, son, as I can't bend them.” Father said in a final tone, his fierce brown eyes clashing with mine, identical with his.

"Who do you think is going to replace me? Have I not been running the Mafia for the past eight years and without a wife? I am not—"

"Lorenzo DeLuca! Have respect for your father and the ex-Mafia boss!" My mother raised her voice, and I shut up.

She's never raised her voice at me before.

I looked at Father and released a breath at his angry expression. I could see the disappointment lacing his eyes.

Father was right—no one bends the rules, not even DeLucas. A Mafia boss has to uphold the rules in the underworld.

I could buy some time if I could but I’ll be turning thirty next year. 

I do not have the time to waste on a stranger, but my parents are insistent on my marriage, and I know why.

They think I’m unhappy. They think that is the reason I’m always angry, and they think that a wife will fix my anger.

I call that bullshit, but I agreed, wanting them to stop stressing this matter.

"Fine," I grunted, knowing that our tradition meant more to them than anything I would say concerning this matter. "If you insist on this, then so be it. I'll get married."

"Good." Father’s brown eyes shone with satisfied pride. "We will go to the Blackwoods’ house tonight. His first-born daughter is yet to be engaged, and your Aunt seems to think she is quite the beauty. So I have already accepted her for you."

Father told me, making me steam with anger. A normal girl for a Mafia boss?

I released an angry breath, exiting his office without responding to what he had said. I didn't care who it was. It’s not like it would be a real marriage.

I hate the idea of a woman sharing my things. I cannot take care of someone. I cannot be trusted.

{Flashback}

"I'm scared, Enzo." She whispered, gasping as blood gushed out from her wounds.

"It will be okay, Eleanor. The medical team are on their way," I said, desperately trying to cover all her wounds, but there were plenty, and I had only two hands.

"Eleanor, I'll not leave you by yourself again. I won't say no to you again. Just—please open your eyes." I pleaded, tears burning my vision as she tried to keep her eyes open for me.

"I love you, Enzo," she said, her pale lips trying to smile.

"I love you too, Eleanor," I said, watching her bright green eyes slowly become less shiny.

Fuck.

I shook my head, trying to stop the image of my fiancee dying in my mind as I headed to the gym to blow off some steam.

—

I pulled up in the driveway behind my parents car, thirty minutes past six, and I felt myself getting angrier with each passing second.

I cannot fucking believe I have to marry a stranger. Thinking of all the expectations that come with marriage makes me physically sick.

I got out of the car, trying not to roll my eyes at Blackwood smiling so wide it looked like a desperate attempt to look sincere.

I could smell bullshit from a mile away. Faked sincerity smelled like trash on a rainy day, and I, for one, do not tolerate it.

In this business, you learn to read a person in a minute, and I could say right now, if that's the father, I do not wish to even see the fake bimbo his daughter undoubtedly is.

"Welcome to my home." Blackwood said, bowing his head a little, and Father nodded.

"We are so very grateful that you would give my daughter this honor." Blackwood added, making my mother’s face fall a little.

"This is our son, Lorenzo DeLuca." Father said, motioning to me.

I nodded at him, and he immediately looked intimidated. Good.

He led us inside to a sitting area, the space decorated with cheap-looking gold at every corner, which was overall sickening.

"Let me go get Selena so the couples can talk a little before dinner." Blackwood said, standing up to leave.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, and I checked to see that it was the details I asked Xavier on the background check of this family.

I excused myself and started walking down the first hallway I saw, pulling out my phone to go through the details.

Selena was his first daughter. The mother died giving birth to another? Wait, what? I thought he only had one child.

As I kept walking, I found myself at a door. I was about to turn around when I heard soft sniffles coming from the other side.

My eyebrows furrowed as I walked to the door and opened it.

"Please go away." Came a soft female voice; it sounded terrified. "I am sorry." she hiccuped, and my fists clenched in anger.

Who the fuck is she talking to?

I walked through the door into a garden to see a small figure curled up on the floor next to a bench.

"What's wrong?" I asked, surprising myself, startling the small girl.

She immediately stood up, wincing a little before looking at me with wide doe-like eyes that reminded me of a child.

Her nose was small and red, like Mother’s when it gets cold. She looked so young, but her body was that of a woman, so she definitely was not a child.

Her gown looked rich and soft. I doubted she was a servant.

"Who—who are you?" she croaked, making me raise an eyebrow.