Chapter 1
Chapter one
Isabella
It’s Elena’s wedding day.
She’s getting married to the most dangerous man in New York. Hell, I wonder how she feels, waiting nervously in the bridal suite a few doors down.
I shake my head, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of my nose. No, she’s fine. Of course she’s fine. She has Dad and Melanie, our stepmother. Dad would fix her with a stern gaze and remind her that’s what her beauty is for, and she’s fulfilling her responsibility to his mafia.
And me? Just like every other time, I’m the extra. I should only be there when they need the world to make convenient comparisons.
Sometimes I think that’s why Elena forces me to some secret events with her. To be the backdrop against which she shines. After all, white looks more radiant against a black background.
I shut the book I’m reading as it’s doing nothing to keep the thoughts at bay. And it’s something I’ve come to realize. Books don’t shut out thoughts; they just give you prettier words to frame them with.
But it provides a means of escape, and that, more than anything, has been my solace.
Shaking my head, I let out a humorless chuckle. Jeez, I sound bitter.
But honestly, I’m not. I just…want it to end. It’s not my fault I was born with red hair and pale skin. Oh, and fucking poor eyesight, too.
It’s not my fault that I’m bound to whatever requests Elena bids me to make.
Like the little escapade she had last night.
No doubt it was supposed to be her last day of freedom before selling her soul to the mafia king.
Getting married to a man as dangerous as Dominic could sure as hell mess with her mind.
And maybe that’s why I went last night—although it’s not like I had any choice—to support her, even if she never reciprocates it.
You would think that alienation means being unseen. But there’s a more accurate definition. It is being seen, just for the wrong reasons.
Letting out a slow exhale, I rise from the edge of the bed and make my way to the window. High-rise buildings and the distant hum of car engines fill my senses. The view is great, but I’d expect nothing less from a ridiculously expensive hotel right in the heart of New York.
Of course, it’s an alliance with the king. Everything has to be perfect.
The walls lightly cool my skin as I plop an elbow on the windowsill, stuffing my right cheek into my palm. I continue to follow the trail of traffic as cars flow and curve down the avenue.
Curve…
I bite my lips and clench my thighs, feeling heat creep up my neck.
My mind instantly trails down memory lane, relishing the pleasure and ecstasy from last night. The way his hands violently trailed every curve of my body like I was some sort of art, the way his lips latched onto my mound, sucking until I cried in ecstasy.
The way I held on to him, afraid that the night would end too fast.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my pussy tingling between my legs. He was even better than the men in my books.
God, the man was a monster. My legs still feel unsteady. I mean that kind of size deserves its own zip code.
It’s a pity I didn’t see his face though. Or maybe it’s a good thing. Because that kind of dick could leave a girl dickmatized. Lord knows I’d cross all the oceans and seas just to relive that experience.
That’s why I’ve tried to suppress the thoughts since yesterday, because it’s something I’d probably never experience again.
I start to drown in my feelings again when the door suddenly slams open. I swivel my head, and my eyes widen as the hulking frame of my father comes into view.
His brows are furrowed into his signature frown, and his lips downturned into an expression of disgust. My stomach curls with dread, and my breathing turns ragged. His raging gaze holds mine for a flitting second before he begins to stalk toward me.
God. He’s angry. No, that doesn’t even cut it. He’s livid.
I shrink back, trying to think if there’s anything I’ve done to upset him.
I did every chore I was assigned before joining them here. And since I came, I’ve been in the shadows, never once showing my face.
“G-Good morning, Father,” my voice is thick with fear.
“Keep your mouth shut and come with me. Now!” he rages, bald head catching the overhead light. I don’t let him close the distance between us before I scamper out, stumbling once on my feet before I get to the door.
Once I leave the room, I see people frantically walking about the hallway.
Even the usually composed men in suits look like they’ve lost all sense of composure as they type away on their phones, barking incoherent orders into their phones.
The women are as white as ghosts. Melanie is the worst of them all.
Some of them are in tears, while others are giving me a stare that’s a mix of disgust and pity.
My heart races faster than it ever has in my entire life. It’s not the stare that scares me; I’m used to that. It’s the foreboding feeling that knots my gut in a loop. Something bad has happened. No. Something bad is waiting to happen to…me.
I swallow thickly, training my eyes on the marble floors and adding a bit of hurry to my steps.
I’m still walking ahead of Father when all of a sudden, his hand clasps mine tightly and yanks me into a room. A grunt spills from my lips as I stumble to the floor, the door slamming shut behind me.
I look over my shoulder to see Father, standing in front of the door with a menacing glare. I don’t hold his stare, I can’t. But I expect him to say something. He doesn’t.
The strained silence doesn’t last for long as more people file into the room. I lift my head to see Melanie along with two maids. One is holding a bouquet of white roses, and the other has in her hands a bridal dress and veil.
On my father’s command, both maids start to walk toward me.
“W-what’s going on?” The words almost catch in my throat as I glance from the dress to the maid holding it. Then, finally, to my father.
“Dress the new bride,” is all he says, and my eyes widen in horror.
No. I dart my eyes to Melanie’s to see if this is all a joke, but from the look in her eyes, I realize this is anything but a joke. She stares at me with contempt before training her gaze elsewhere.
The world tilts even though I’m on the ground. My blood goes cold, a surge of emotions bubbling through my veins. New bride…
No. No. This doesn’t make any sense. Where the hell is Elena?
Fuck. I can’t marry Dominic. I’m supposed to be the invisible twin.
I try to breathe, but it feels like something is lodged in my throat. And with each breath I take, the obstacle seems to expand.
Tears burn my eyes, but I hold them back as I bring my gaze to my father’s and say the one word I haven’t said to him in years.
“P-please… I-I don’t want to get married to—”
Before I finish, he closes the distance between us and lands a striking slap across my cheek. The world goes quiet as pain collides with the fear in my stomach.
“You stupid girl,” he growls, pulling my ponytail. A strangled grunt escapes my lips as my head lurches back forcefully, his grip tightening on my hair.
“You fucking ingrate!” he yells, spilling saliva on my face. “All your life, you’ve been useless. You should be grateful I’m finally giving you an opportunity to help the family.”
Like every other time, anger mixes with the fear in my chest, but I hold back my words and my tears. They’ll do me no good.
I clench my hands into fists as he yanks my head further back and meets my gaze with fury. My lips quiver as he raises his hand again, and I shut my eyes tight, expecting another slap, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, Melanie’s voice cuts through the air.
“Dean, that’s enough! She’s the bride, she can’t have marks.”
I open my eyes to see his frown deepen just as he shoves me back down. My face is still against the cool marble, but I hear him walk out before slamming the door.
Then a lone tear rolls down my cheek. Steadying my breathing, I quickly wipe it, pull myself up, and raise a hand to the side of my face. My cheek still stings, but it doesn’t compare to the wrench in my chest.
Why me?
Like always, that one question circles my mind as both maids, already by my side, help me to my feet.
The loud sound of Melanie’s heels against the floor echoes as she walks toward me. I hold my breath when she stops just inches from my face. The same expression of contempt settles on her face, but this time it’s layered with something I can’t place my finger on.
She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth to speak.
“You look pathetic.”
After all these years, I should be used to her derogatory remarks, but I flinch. I always do. And maybe that’s because she, more than Dad, is the one who makes the difference between Elena and me impossible to ignore.
“Get yourself together. The ceremony starts soon.”
I watch her twirl on her heels, and before long, she disappears from the room. God, I hate her. I hate them. All of them.
The maids instantly get to work, shrugging off the plain spaghetti-strapped gown I’m wearing. No human deserves this, and maybe one day, when I’m free from all this, I’ll build something—a supportive, kind and nurturing space—for abused girls like me and make sure they never feel this way again.
I don’t protest as they are working on me. I simply stand there, accept my fate, and let them dress me.
Their fingers work along my body, and I don’t miss how none of the maids meet my eyes.
“Where’s Elena?” I ask the one still holding the bouquet. She honors me with a pitiful gaze.
“Word is that she ran away.”
Ran away? I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to that, but the short, cruel laughter that leaves my lips next surprises even me.
So that’s it? When the shit hit the fan, she simply bailed? But then again, of course she’d take the easy way out. And like always, I’ll bear the consequences for Elena’s actions.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur, and I’m standing in front of the mirror, wearing a bridal dress, with a face full of make-up, and a bouquet of white roses in my hand.
“It is time,” says the third maid who came in to fix my make-up. I nod stiffly, letting her lead me out of the room, down the hallway, and into the elevator.
As we ride the elevator down and make our way to the event hall, my nerves are all over the place. Is Dominic even aware that he’s getting a different sister than promised? Lord, I hope he rejects me.
The elevator dings open, and my heart skips a beat. Father is standing at the end of the hallway...waiting for me. I hold my breath at the irony of the situation. The very first time my father will hold me is…on my wedding day.
The maid leaves as we arrive at the hall, and all eyes are on us as soon as the door is pushed open. The crowd is small, consisting mostly of the mafia. Dad loops my hand in his—without showing the slightest emotion—and we walk down the aisle.
My steps are wobbly, my breath coming out in short pants. I wish Elena would jump out and take her rightful place. I wish someone would save me from this nightmare.
The groom is already waiting at the altar, and the moment my father hands me over to him, I freeze, my blood running cold at the sight before me.
Sharp jaws, a clean-cut fade, and those familiar piercing grey eyes stare back at me. The man I fucked last night is standing inches away from me, face deadpan and lips set in a thin line.
This is Dominic Moretti in the flesh!
No. No. No!
The fact that I slept with the Dominic Moretti—who’s by the way my sister’s supposed husband—and that I’m somehow now getting married to him makes no sense at all. My stomach twists, and I don’t know if it’s disgust or fear.
It does feel like a nightmare for sure, but then the booming voice of the priest reminds me how real it is.
My heart races as he holds my gaze. There’s a pause, then a flicker of surprise that vanishes almost immediately. His eyes hold nothing.
Words are spoken about love and cherishing each other, like a buzzing in my ear. And on the priest’s cue, he slips a ring onto my finger and pulls me in for a kiss that seals my fate.
A tear slips past my eye. My body trembles, but I have to accept the fact that this is my life now. That no one is coming to save me.
***
We ride in a black Escalade in silence, and it’s the most uncomfortable I’ve felt in my life. His presence is suffocating, and the fact that his face is set in a permanent frown doesn’t make it any easier.
After about an hour, we arrive at an estate that seems more like a fortress than a home. Tall, fancy black gates spill open to reveal manicured lawns and armed guards with their weapons strapped across their chests.
One mansion stands out among the other smaller ones, and as Dominic steps out of the car without sparing me a glance, I figure that’s where he’s heading.
I fumble with the gown, rushing out and doing my best to match his pace. If he hears the sound of my struggle or the scrape of my heels against the stone driveway, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
Soon we reach inside. The scent of polished wood and leather is the first thing that reaches my nostrils, and then I notice the intricate patterns of chandeliers that gleam on the marble floors.
Unlike our mansion, this place is far too big and empty. I wrap my arms around my middle, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.
Suddenly, he turns, grey eyes sweeping over me once. Bland and cold like before, eliciting a nervous shiver down my spine. As he takes a step closer, the unbearable weight of his presence presses against my chest.
“Rule number one,” he says, voice low and commanding. My blood chills a few degrees. “You do not leave this house without my permission. Ever.”
I unfurl my arms, the urge to say something now tightening my chest. I just had my whole life thwarted in front of me; the last thing I need is rules.
“Rule number two,” he continues without a trace of emotion. “You will play the role of my wife and act accordingly, but only in public. In private, you stay the hell away from me.”
“Rule number three.” Something in his voice changes, and he walks toward me. He stops when there’s barely a thread of space between us, hot smoky breath fanning my face. His eyebrows dip into an intense curve, and a frown settles on his face.
“What happened last night was a mistake,” he deadpans.