Blood Ties And Betrayal
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Isabella never chose this. Forced into a marriage with the most feared man in the criminal world, Matteo Antonio, her life is now bound by a contract she didn’t sign willingly.
Matteo is a man with a reputation for cruelty, a man who doesn't believe in love or loyalty—only power, control, and the cold, unrelenting pursuit of his own desires. Yet, despite everything she knows about him, despite how much she wishes to escape, there’s something in Isabella that wonders: *What if?* What if there's more to him than the cold exterior he shows the world?
Now trapped in a life she didn’t choose, Isabella faces a question that haunts her every day: Will Matteo ever feel for her? Will he ever truly *see* her, not as a prize or a pawn, but as a person? Or will she, slowly but surely, fall for the man who holds her captive—body and heart?
It’s a game. One that neither of them can afford to lose.
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"Don't act like this is some big mystery. We both know why I'm here. We both know why I said yes. And we both know you loved my siste"
His eyes darkened, his smirk vanishing.
He stepped forward, and I stepped back. One step. Two. My back hit the wall.
He leaned in close, his breath warm on my cheek. "Who told you," he said slowly, voice as sharp as a blade, "that Matteo *Antonio* has ever had feelings?".
I froze. His eyes were like ice, cold and clear, but so much more dangerous. The kind of cold that burned. And suddenly, I felt so stupid. So stupid.
All this time, I'd assumed—*no, Gianna told me.* She told me Matteo had feelings for her. She told me he loved her, that she had him wrapped around her little finger. She told me he would have chosen her if she'd stayed. But she was wrong. Because I could see it now, written in his face, in his eyes, in the way he looked at me like I was just another piece on the board. Matteo Antonio didn't *love*. He didn't feel anything at all.
"You thought I loved her, didn't you?" His voice was soft, deadly quiet. "Is that why you've been walking around here with your head held so high?" His eyes flicked to my lips, my throat, before landing back on my eyes.
"Let me make this clear, *cara mia*." He leaned in so close I could feel his lips brush against the shell of my ear. "I don't love. Not her. Not you. *No one.*" I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest rising and falling so fast it felt like I might choke on it.
He pulled away just enough to look me in the eyes, his face unreadable. "Go to bed," he said, turning away from me. His voice had gone cold again, as if the storm had passed. "Tomorrow, you'll learn what it means to be my wife."
I stayed there, pressed against the wall, too stunned to move.
And as he walked away, I felt it settle into my bones.
I wasn't his wife.
I was his *prisoner.*
