Married To The Ruthless Mafia Lord

Clara’s POV I watched them roll my dad’s coffin to the ground, six feet under, where I’d never see him again—unless I got murdered as well. The thought sent shivers down my spine as I let out silent sobs. “He didn’t deserve this, dear. May the Lord accept his soul in His kingdom,” Grandma Lucia murmured, patting me on the shoulder before walking away. The few people who attended had left—I was all alone. Even the most wicked people on earth had at least ten people or more at their burial. But here was my dad, having just me, Grandma Lucia, and two other friends I had never seen or heard of. This man right here was my dad. Although he wasn’t the best, he made sure I survived when no one else did. “Your dad was a lovely man. I wish I had seen him one last time before he died,” a voice remarked from behind me. I turned around, and a strange man stood in a corner. He had on a black T-shirt with jeans and had the structure, face, and hair of a semi-god. Despite me mourning my dad, I was instantly taken aback by the beauty that stood tall before me. I had never seen him before, and Neon Hill was a very small town. “He must be new,” I murmured as I studied him “Excuse me, did you know my dad?” I inquired out of curiosity. “Yes, I did.” He began. “I don’t expect you to know me because, by the time I left this town, you were just a baby. Your dad worked for my family,” he responded. He didn’t even look much older than me, and he called me a baby? What a jerk. Okay, whoever this dude is, he’s clearly a fraud. The only family my dad worked for was the Bellucci family, and he clearly didn’t dress like a true Bellucci would. “Okay, thanks for stopping by,” I replied, trying to shut down any further conversation and focus on mourning my father’s untimely death. After a while, I turned around, and he was gone. I was once again left alone to my peace and quiet. It was about 6 p.m. at this point, and I decided to return home. Walking through the streets of this small town, I couldn’t help but wonder—who would want my father dead? Everyone here had the face of an angel making it impossible to point a finger. And even if I could, then what next? I walked through the path that led to my crippled house, which held no life in it. Everything was even worse now that I was on my own. As soon as I arrived, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. “Bloody hell.” I exclaimed. “Did I forget to lock up? Or did someone try to rob me? Who would even want to rob this empty old place? Well, it’s definitely not their lucky day.” As I searched my brain for answers, I picked up an old rusted iron that lay nearby, mustered up some courage and decided to step in. “What the hell! Who’s going to clean all this up?” I shrieked. Whoever came here had clearly outdone himself. Everywhere was littered. What exactly did they want? I sighed deeply and started arranging the little I had back to its original position. When I was done, I headed to the bathroom for a shower. Immediately I stepped in, my eyes almost popped out of its sockets and shivers ran through my body. A bloodstained message was written boldly on the wall: “Where did he keep it? You have one week, or else you’ll join him.” Whoever wrote this definitely didn’t find what they came for. And yet, they had the audacity to trash my place. “Okay, girl, this isn’t the time for jokes. The people who killed your dad are now after you,” I muttered to myself as I realized the gravity of my situation. Looking at the bloody message for the second time, my bones weakened—I couldn’t stay home tonight. Whatever they wanted from my dad, I didn’t have it. This wasn’t good. I put on a black hoodie and some sweatpants and left the house for a walk. “I just need to clear my head. Maybe by the time I’m back, I’d all feel like it was just a bad dream.” I continued to mutter to myself as I walked hastily with no direction. After a few minutes, I stopped by Mrs. Nadia’s coffee shop. The little place always smelled of freshly baked bread and cinnamon. “Hey, Clara. How’re you doing? Sorry about your dad again. He was a good man,” Mrs. Nadia sympathized while I stood by the counter, waiting for my order of a cup of cappuccino. “Thank you, Mrs. Nadia. I’m feeling better now,” I lied. I didn’t feel better—I was scared. I thought of going to the police, but they’d just think I was crazy because of what happened before. I don’t think there was anyone in this town who didn’t think I was a psychopath and talking about a blood-stained wall could just prove them right. I grabbed my order and scanned the environment for my favorite table, and the perfect spot was always by the window. I moved there, sipping out of my cup and thinking—should I just leave this creepy town? “Hey, it’s me again, from earlier at your dad’s wake. Can I take a seat?” a voice called out, pulling me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head slowly to find that perfectly sculpted face from earlier. “What did this jerk want this time? Urgh.” I mumbled, then smiled weakly and motioned for him to take a seat. “I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier because I got a call and needed to get going. Like I told you, your dad worked for my family. I’m Zane by the way—Zane Bellucci,” he stated, launching his hand forward. He couldn’t be Zane. The stories I had heard about the first son of the Bellucci family didn’t match this guy’s character. I heard he was ruthless, but this guy seemed calm. “How could you be Zane? You don’t sound or look anything like what I’ve heard about him,” I countered. He let out a dark chuckle. “I know what you must have heard, Clara and there are true. I’m just testing out a new character.” Zane added. “Hold up, I didn’t tell you my name. How do you know my name?” My brows furrowed. He smirked. “I know a lot of things, Clara but what I don’t know is how to pretend to be someone I’m not for a long while.” “So you’re saying you’re not Zane Bellucci?” I smiled, triumphantly. “I knew you were a fraud.” He smiled sinisterly, “I am Zane Bellucci, honey.” I c****d a brow, studying him when a guy came in and approached our table. “Boss Zane, sorry to interrupt, but everything’s ready now,” the huge guy informed, bowing his head. “Okay, thank you, Bongo. You all know what to do,” Zane acknowledged, and the big guy left. Maybe he really was Zane. But I didn’t get it—Zane wasn’t described as this handsome and fit. The rumors lied. No one in town had seen him since he left for the UK at ten, yet they spread hideous stories. “Clara, you have to come with me.” Zane turned to me with a stern expression. I laughed hysterically. “You’re f*****g kidding me right?” “If you want to stay alive, just follow me. In less than two minutes, unknown gunmen will arrive. Leave with me now, and I’ll explain everything,” Zane’s eyes darkened. What the f**k did he mean by if I want to stay alive? And how was I supposed to trust that he wasn’t the one who wanted me dead? As I contemplated, two men burst through the front door, pulling out guns. “I’m going to ask this once, and I won’t repeat myself. Who the hell is Clara?” one of them barked. Silence befell the cafe as civilians scrambled, hiding under tables, but no one gave me up. “Was this a joke or something?” I whispered to Zane. “Clara, we have to move now. Put on your hoodie and follow me,” Zane ordered aggressively. As I stood up to leave with Zane, the man turned, looking at us now. “And where do you think you’re off to?” he asked. Suddenly, a lady screamed, “She’s Clara! Please, take her and leave us alone!” Just then, the man who spoke to Zane earlier walked in with three other guys, pointing their guns and shooting the two men in the head. The place erupted with screams, my hands flew to my mouth, and my heart pounding fast. I couldn’t comprehend the horrific scene I just witnessed. Zane grabbed me by my arm, pulling me out of my state of shock. He dragged me away, into a black car, and we sped off. “More are coming,” Zane declared as we rode with Bongo and another guy. In one day, I buried my dad and almost lost my life. Zane turned away from his phone, looking at my trembling figure, and the next words that left his mouth, was something I could never have anticipated. “Oh, and Clara, we’re getting married tonight.”