Blood and Billions: A Mafia Tale

Chapter Three

~Isabella's POV~

My eyes widened in shock as I stammered, "What?"

I had expected violence and brutality, but instead, I was faced with a proposal that was as unexpected as it was bewildering. The very idea of becoming his wife sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't fathom the implications of such an arrangement.

As I stood there, caught between fear and curiosity, I realized that my life had taken a sharp and unanticipated turn. I was now tethered to Nicholas Maddox, a man who held the power to reshape my destiny in ways I could not yet comprehend.

He finally stepped away from me, and with a simple directive, he said, "Walk with me." His powerful strides carried him forward. I hung my head, obediently following in his wake.

I couldn't help but steal glances at him. His presence was commanding, and with each step, he exuded an aura of authority. His hair, dark as the midnight sky looked as soft as silk, his sharp, piercing blue eyes held a sense of gravity that was impossible to ignore.

Nicholas Maddox was an imposing figure, standing at an impressive 6.2 feet tall. I couldn't help but be captivated by his striking features, a mixture of rugged charm and undeniable magnetism. His chiseled jawline and the hint of a dimple when he smiled added to his allure.

Suddenly, his voice broke through my reverie, and he quipped, "I hope your eyes don't bore a hole through my back." My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I quickly averted my gaze, my eyes falling to the floor.

After a while, we reached a door, and he gestured for me to enter. As I stepped inside, a gasp of shock and disbelief escaped my throat. The sight that met my eyes was haunting and left me breathless— before me lay a lifeless woman.

His voice pulled me from my shock as he spoke, "Isabella, meet Natalia Moretti. Natalia Moretti, meet Isabella." He introduced me to the dead woman as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I looked at him with a mixture of horror and confusion, my mind racing to make sense of it all.

My voice trembled as I asked the question that had been haunting my thoughts, "Did you... Did you kill her?"

Nicholas Maddox shook his head slowly, his expression an unsettling blend of amusement and menace. "You really think the worst of me, Isabella. But we've only just met," he said with a chilling smile that scared me.

He walked over to the lifeless body, his fingers casually playing with her hair as if it were a morbid doll. The sight was unsettling, and a wave of nausea washed over me. He continued to speak, his voice carrying a mocking tone.

"You see, Isabella, Natalia and I were meant to be married in three days," he explained, his eyes fixed on mine as he continued toying with the dead woman's hair. The bizarre scene made me want to turn away, but I couldn't. "I've never held marriage in high regard, but she is the daughter of my most significant rival. Our marriage was meant to be a symbol of reconciliation, an end to our longstanding feud, cementing our supposed friendship."

He paused, his voice laden with sarcasm as he emphasized the absurdity of the situation. "But with sweet Natalia here dead, can you imagine how that reconciliation could ever happen?"

I didn't need to answer, neither did he wait for a response. Instead, he continued, as if to press further on the matter. "Look at her. What do you see?"

I regarded the lifeless form of the woman before me. Her raven hair, like a dark waterfall, cascaded around her head, forming a stark contrast to her pale, porcelain-like skin. Her eyes, wide open, had the same captivating shade of deep emerald as mine.

As my gaze traveled her features, I couldn't help but notice the delicate curve of her nose and the softness of her. The realization of what Nicholas wanted struck like a lightning bolt.

We had almost the same features. Seeing that I had caught on to the uncanny resemblance, Nicholas smiled with a cruel satisfaction. "Perhaps in another life, you two could have been passed off as sisters."

"No!" I protested taking a step backwards, “You can’t do this to me. You can’t make me be someone I am not.”

Nicholas took a step forward, his eyes colder and more piercing than ever. He raised an eyebrow, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "Do not irritate me by trying to run."

I was frozen in place, my mind racing as I grappled with the implications of the revelation.

Why was it so convenient that the woman he was supposed to marry, who was now dead, looked almost like me?

"Dead," I whispered the word to myself, still unable to process the weight of it. My life had taken a dark and unexpected turn in a single night.

I finally found my voice, trembling as I dared to seek more information. "How did she die?" I asked, my voice a mere whisper amidst the oppressive silence.

Nicholas met my question with a matter-of-fact tone, devoid of empathy. "She killed herself," he replied without a hint of remorse. "I guess the idea of marrying me was so absurd that it became unbearable."

The revelation shook me to the core and I couldn't help but wonder about the torment that had driven Natalia to such an extreme decision or if he was even telling me the truth.

A sense of urgency welled up within me along with the feeling that I had used up all my questions, yet, the need for answers and understanding pushed me to the brink. "Ask me what you want," Nicholas said, his voice holding a hint of knowing, as though he could read my mind.

"You wear your emotions on your face. If this is going to work, that will have to change." He stated simply.

With his permission, questions tumbled from my lips, his "Why is she with you? How do you expect me to take her place, and do you honestly believe that everyone, especially her father, would fall for it? Why—"

Nicholas interrupted my line of questions with a single utterance of my name. The sound of my name on his lips was a strange mixture of commanding and intimate, making me shiver involuntarily.

His beckoning hand extended toward me with a simple, "Come here."

I couldn't help but shake my head in refusal. I wanted nothing more than to return to the life I had known, even with its own miseries. "No," I replied, my voice trembling with desperation, "I want to go home."

A smile graced Nicholas’ lips, "You want to go home to your drunk stepfather and your deceased mother, or is it your biological father who abandoned you on the day you were born?" The words felt like a relentless assault on my very being.

Each syllable he spoke was like a razor-sharp blade, slicing through my defenses, exposing wounds I had tried to bury. How did he know these things, the darkest corners of my past? I folded my arms, fixing my gaze on him with newfound courage, unwilling to cower. "And what if your men had gone through with it and killed me?"

Nicholas's tone remained cold, unfazed by my question. He regarded me with an air of detachment. "Then I wouldn't have spared you another thought," he admitted casually. But then, he allowed a smirk to spread across his features. "But they didn't. Fate intervened, and when I saw that flash of raven-black hair and those scared green eyes, I knew why."

He tilted his head to the side, his smile taking on a cruel edge. "Don't you believe in fate, Isabella?"

I brushed off his question, my desperation escalating. "I want to go home."

The change in Nicholas was as fast as the flash of light. His eyes, once laced with a glint of amusement, lost all warmth. His posture stiffened, and he looked like the ruthless man who had ordered my execution without a shred of sympathy. It was as if a switch had been flipped, revealing the darkness that lurked within him.

He advanced towards me with slow, calculated steps, like a predator closing in on its prey. Panic surged through me as I took a step back, my retreat halted when my back met the door.

I was trapped, with no escape in sight.

"The wedding is in three days," he stated, a threatening undercurrent in his voice.

Dread knotted my stomach as I mustered the last of my courage to defy him. "And if I say no?"

With a swift, menacing motion, Nicholas raised a gun to my face, the cold steel almost touching my skin. His eyes bore into mine, devoid of any compassion. "Then you are of no use to me alive."

I was faced with an unthinkable choice. The barrel of the gun was poised to end my life, and I knew that, regardless of the outcome, I would never marry this man.

The hammer clicked, and the gun was ready to fire. My heart raced, and I was left with an agonizing decision to make.

“What is it going to be, Isabella?"