The Mafia Don's Bride

Isabella's pov I was sitting on the side of the king-size bed and my body felt sore in places that I did not even know could possibly be sore. My arms were aching, my ribs were bruised, and my back was aching. I had not yet settled down, when I heard the door creak. My stomach dropped. I smelled the costly whiskey and cigar, then I heard the heavy footsteps of Dario on the floor. Great. The last thing I wanted was a drunk and violent man in my bedroom during the night. I lay motionlessly, feigning to sleep, and as he muttered to himself, I held my breath, and then he picked up a phone and put it to his ear. "Arrange the jet. I want to go... yes, the hour after, I slurred. His voice was acute, nearly panicky. I scowled, attempting to hear what the other was saying. But the answer of Dario was plain enough—he was afraid. Desperate even. That was unusual. He was all threats and bravado, as a rule. Not... fear. I could no longer continue to feign sleep. I slowly sat up, with my hands over my face, as though I had just woken up, and I was trying to suppress my voice. "Excuse me... I said, Dario, and I made it soft and polite, as I had a right to ask. "What's going on? Why, why do you sound... why do you sound scared? He froze, eyes narrowing at me. Keep your business to yourself, he said. I refused to back down. "It's my business. You sound... terrified, Dario. Desperate. Do you not leave the country because of something... or somebody? Ask me—what did you do this time? Will it affect me again?" He gave a laugh that was not humorous at all, the sort of laugh that crawls on the skin. I tell you, I will beat you to a pulp again, if you do not shut up. I choked and made no motion. "No," I said quietly but firmly. I must know the reason why you leave. I must understand who you fooled around with. I must know whether this... has any influence on me. His face flashed with panic a moment, and he turned away with a low sharp voice. You are asking too many questions. He had not been able to speak further when there was a sudden, deafening BANG of the house. I awoke with a start and my heart was pounding. Another BANG—then another, and then the unmistakable whir of helicopters overhead, and the staccato rattle of gunfire. I stood still, holding the sheets, and looking at him. "Dario... what... what's happening? Is that why you were going to leave? Is this what you were afraid of? He didn't answer. Rather, he caught me roughly by the shoulders and pushed me towards the door. "Go. Whatever that was outside, told him I was not at home. Protect me. Even with your life should you have to. He opened the door before I could protest and pushed me into the hallway and banged the door. My heart beat was so fierce that I thought it could burst through my chest. The sounds of the chaos outside the mansion were heard—gunfire, screaming, the smashing of glass and chandeliers being ruined down the stairway. I was forced to do what he had told me, but my flesh cried to flee in another direction. I crouched behind a half open door, just behind the staircase, peeking through to see the men in black going about. They were dangerous, armed, and they looked like they had business. One of them saw me, and even before I could think, I was seized by the hands, and pulled out of my hiding place. I was panicking, kicking, and they were too powerful. I was dragged down the stairs and into the foyer. And then I saw him. Matteo De Santis. My blood was cold at the very mention of the name. He was all that the stories told: he was frighteningly handsome, dangerous, and he had a sort of power that frightened even the bravest men. His eyes were blue and I were looking about the room, and I knew he was enraged. "Where is your husband?" His voice was smooth and lethal, and each word was mean. I opened my mouth, in an attempt to lie, to save myself. I...I do not know... perhaps in the study? Matteo looked more keenly and walked nearer. I do not repeat myself very often, honey. My stomach dropped. I felt my cheeks burn. I couldn't lie anymore. "He... he's in the bedroom. Perhaps... perhaps he was going to the lavatory, or the balcony... My voice wavered. Each word was a rope on my neck. Dario was discovered in a few minutes. They pulled him out of the bedroom, and his face was twisted with anger as he cursed me as a snitch. Matteo didn't hesitate. He hit the back of the jaw of Dario. Why did you make yourself on my sister? His tone was low. I was not surprised at it, because of one reason or another, but I was disappointed that Dario found no one to attack but the sister of this mad man! Dario smiled, attempting to control himself. "I didn't force her. She lured me," he said, mocking. Why do you get so excited about a woman? Aren't women for pleasure? Don't you have... I do not know, three hundred body counts this year? Matteo darkened his eyes and was colder than I had ever seen. I may be... promiscuous, I said slowly, deliberately, but I am never... a r****t. Dario laughed, and reached his gun. "Oh, really?" he answered, and pointed at Matteo with a sneer. Matteo was faster. Within a second, Dario was shot through with bullets. I screamed when I saw his body collapse on the floor next to me. My whole being desired to vomit or faint, yet my body would not do this. Matteo faced me, with his cold stare fixed on my face. “Take her,” he said to the female guards who were on either side of him. "Now."