the mafia's little bride

The knock came just as Bella Russo put down her fork, its sharp echo cutting through the tension that had been building all evening.

Antonio Russo stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He shot a nervous glance at Bella, then at Elena, his elder daughter, who sat stiffly at the edge of her chair. No one said a word.

Bella frowned, her chest tightening with unease. “Who is it?” she asked, though deep down, she already knew.

Her father ignored her, walking to the door with heavy, hesitant steps. When he opened it, the man standing on the threshold seemed to fill the entire doorway, his presence overwhelming.

Bella’s breath hitched.

The man tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a black suit stepped into their small home without waiting for an invitation. His movements were fluid, his air of authority undeniable. Everything about him was sharp: his jawline, his high cheekbones, the piercing gray eyes that scanned the room with a predator's calm.

For a brief moment, Bella forgot to breathe. She had never seen a man like him before so imposing, so handsome it was almost unnerving.

But she quickly shook herself. This wasn’t the time to be mesmerized by his looks. Her life was about to be traded away, and her family was treating her like a bargaining chip.

Antonio cleared his throat. “Mr. Moretti,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “This is my daughter, Isabella.”

The man’s gaze shifted to her, landing with a weight that made her stomach flip. It wasn’t warm or curious just cold and assessing, as though he were evaluating merchandise.

Bella stiffened, gripping the edge of the table. She refused to look away, even as her pulse quickened.

“He’s the one,” Elena whispered, leaning closer to Bella, her voice tight.

Bella’s eyes narrowed, her initial awe giving way to anger. “You mean he’s the reason you’re all doing this?”

Elena flinched but didn’t respond.

Antonio gestured awkwardly toward the man, who remained silent. “As I explained earlier, Bella, Mr. Moretti has agreed to clear our debts... in exchange for your hand in marriage.”

Bella stood slowly, her chair scraping back loudly on the wooden floor. She folded her arms, her jaw tightening as she turned to face her father. “You mean you’re selling me. For your mistakes.”

Antonio winced. “It’s not like that"

“Oh, it’s exactly like that!” Bella snapped, her voice rising. “You gambled everything away, and now I’m the one who has to pay the price. For what? To save this house? To save you?”

“Bella, please,” Elena said softly, but Bella wasn’t finished.

“I’ve done everything for this family,” Bella continued, her voice shaking with frustration. “I gave up school, I gave up my friends, and now you expect me to give up my life? For what? So you two can live comfortably while I’m shipped off to some... some stranger?”

Her voice faltered as she glanced at Dominic. He stood motionless, his hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with detached interest. Not a single word escaped his lips, but his presence was commanding enough that Bella’s frustration threatened to waver.

“Bella,” Antonio said, his tone pleading, “this isn’t just about us. Do you understand what happens if I don’t agree to his terms? Do you understand what men like him do to people who can’t pay their debts?”

Bella’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need to be reminded. She had seen the bruises on her father’s arms when he came home late at night, the way he flinched at shadows.

“So I’m supposed to just give up my future? My freedom?” she shot back, though her voice had lost some of its heat.

“Bella,” Elena said, her hand reaching for her sister’s. “It’s not fair, I know. But we don’t have a choice. He’ll... he’ll take care of you.”

Bella laughed bitterly. “Take care of me? That’s rich. He hasn’t said a single word to me, and you expect me to believe he’ll take care of me?”

She turned back to Dominic, meeting his gaze with defiance. “What do you even want with me?” she demanded. “Why not take Elena instead?”

Elena gasped softly, but Dominic’s expression didn’t change. He tilted his head slightly, his gray eyes unblinking as they bore into hers.

Bella’s cheeks flushed under the weight of his stare, but she refused to back down.

Antonio stepped forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “That’s enough, Bella. He’s doing us a kindness. This arrangement will save us all.”

Bella’s lip trembled, but she swallowed the sharp retort forming on her tongue. She turned away from her father and Elena, her chest heaving.

Deep down, she knew they weren’t wrong. Her father’s debt was a death sentence hanging over all of them. Marrying this man might be her only way to keep her family safe.

She drew a shaky breath and turned back to Dominic. “Fine,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I’ll marry you. But don’t expect me to like it.”

Dominic’s lips twitched just barely. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Antonio let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you, Bella,” he said softly.

Dominic reached out, his hand outstretched. Bella hesitated, her gaze darting between his hand and his unreadable face. Slowly, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm but not unkind, his skin warm against hers.

The room seemed to shrink around her as Dominic led her toward the door. She glanced back at her family one last time, her heart aching despite the anger still simmering in her chest.

As the door closed behind them, Bella realized two things: she was leaving everything she had ever known behind, and she wasn’t entirely sad about it.