Chapter 0002

Mirabella's pov

I observe every inch of myself through the mirror, detesting my appearance. This illusion—the make up, the dress, the jewelry, my eyes, it's all so disgusting. A lie. My sister and father have successfully made me into a clone but I'm not about to make this easy for them.

They need me and it's obvious, so this? This might be their game but they'd have to play by my rules.

I begin to wonder how long my father had this plan thought out as I take off my dress, cleaning off the heavy makeup on my face. There has to be something he's not telling me.

Could it be the reason he made certain I never got introduced to the underworld? Because he didn't want people knowing he had two daughters who were nearly identical? Because he intended on using me when I became an adult?

It had to be, considering how meticulous he was in making sure I remained hidden.

But why me?

"What is keeping you so long, Mirabella?" The door to my room swings open and I eye my father through the mirror.

Of course he's boiling in rage, seeing how I changed out of his perfectly planned outfit into something more comfortable and lightened up my makeup.

"This is not how Annabella would be dressed for this dinner," he grits through his teeth and I scoff.

"Quite unfortunate that I'm not Annabella. Didn't you say he knows little or nothing about her? Well, I'm certain he'll observe nothing."

"Don't push—"

"We're late father." I shove him aside and walk out the door.

Like I said, their game, my rules.

. . .

I walk into the restaurant hand in hand with my father and as we approach the private area, I spot my soon to be husband's silhouette, perfectly seated at the head of the table in the dimly lit room.

My heart begins pounding hard against my ribcage the moment we connect eyes and I fidget with the hem of my dress.

Papá pulls out a chair, urging me to sit by Matteo's corner as I exchange pleasantries with his parents who seem very friendly and welcoming.

"You're late. And one would think you were making an effort to look good." Matteo's deep, intimidating voice reverberates in my spine and I suck in a breath, turning around to find him leaning forward, exposing himself to more lighting.

A scanty breath escapes me as I begin taking in his features.

One would think that a man with a reputation such as Matteo's would be disgusting to look at but that is not the case. This man seated by my side, looking at me disgustingly with his extremely intimidating, hazel eyes is a very breathtaking man.

If there is another word greater than beautiful, that'd be the word most suitable to describe this man. His shirt unbuttoned, his inked chest out in the open, broad shoulders, Adams apple bopping, perfect, full red lips, chiseled jaw...

"Are you going to say something? Or are going to keep gawking at me the entire night?"

As beautiful as my soon to be husband might appear, he seems to a man with ego—unhealthy ego. With the way his eyes glaze over me insultingly and the manner at which he exerts his authority on me, making me feel small.

With a clear of my throat, I relax better on my seat and begin digging into my plate, ignoring his burning stare.

He breathes out an annoyed breath, causing my lips to tip up at the corners.

Powerful men like him, they hate the taste of their own medicine.

After we've finished with the main dish, I immediately fall into a conversation with Matteo's mother and sister—Maria and Julia—answering their many questions robotically.

How did a bubbly person like Maria birth a man like Matteo? The question plays at the back of my head.

How am I supposed to exist with a man like Matteo for six months? A man whose presence is unnerving and whose entire demeanor is clouded by darkness?

How am I expected to survive through this?

Finally having had enough of Matteo's burning gaze, I excuse myself to use the restroom, intending for a quiet time—even if it were for a minute.

The instant I stand in front of the mirror in the restroom, my hands grip onto the marble counter tightly as I shudder. I release all the tension I didn't realize I was holding in and the feeling is exhilarating.

"You seem nervous," that familiar, deep voice echoes in my ears and almost immediately the restroom door jams shut with two clicks to it. My heart goes ballistic. Sweat immediately trickling down my forehead, my throat tight with a lump.

Matteo holds my gaze through the mirror for some time before quirking a brow, nudging me to speak. I gulp, turning around to face him. He crouches down, his eyes narrowing into slits as though attempting to observe my facial features and I immediately return my gaze to the ground.

"I-isnt it normal for a bride to get nervous once her big day is nearing?"

Matteo chuckles dryly, motioning towards me. With each step he takes towards me, I take the same step backward until my back is against the marble counter. He hums. "Except that bride wanted this wedding so desperately."

"Don't you want it? Matteo?"

"You have no idea, Annabella, the idea of getting married repulses me. And you, I detest you for agreeing to this. But if you could make a deal with me," his fingertips trail across my cleavage and I back myself up more into the counter as if an exit would magically appear. "You're the only person capable of ending this absurd arrangement, whatever you want, just name it and it'll be yours. But I need you to go out there and call off this bullshit."

Yes, Matteo, there's nothing more I'd love to do than that but I cannot. I could lose my life.

"You're too close, Matteo," I whisper. My gaze remaining on the ground, how could I ever meet my eyes with the eyes of this intimidating man? I'll be made to naught in an instant.

"You had no complaints the other time, Annabella."

What? The other time? What happened the other time? Why was this part of their meeting kept away from me?

Think Mirabella, think.

"Look at me for a second, Annabella." It's a command, a command so gently spoken, leaving me with no choice but to obey. Slowly, I lift up my gaze to meet his.

His knuckles rests beneath my chin, keeping my head up as his thumb strokes my jaw. His eyes are steady on mine as if searching for something. Satisfaction soon flashes his orbs, causing him to breathe out a scoff, giving his head a shake.

Matteo moves out of the way and gestures me towards the door, urging me to leave. I nod, rushing towards the door, a breath of relief escapes me but my relief is short lived because just as my fingertips connects the door knob, his voice resounds in my ears.

"Mirabella?"

The name is spelt out like he knows who I truly am. I halt my movement, a cold sensation settling in my spine. A few seconds pass and I'm still unable to utter a word or even walk away.

He chuckles maniacally.

"Isn't that your twin? I'm sure you're wondering how I know about her but shouldn't I at least get familiar with all the members of my wife's family?" He tsks. "Will she be in attendance? You know, at our wedding."

I twist the door knob and pull the door wide open before answering, "I'm certain she has more important things to concern herself with."

Yes, Matteo, she'll not just be in attendance, she's going to be your wife.

I hurriedly storm out of the restroom but I hear Matteo muttering 'sure she does' before letting out a very disturbing laugh—confirming the rumors about him.

He's a maniac.

A psychotic maniac.

After dinner with the Denaro's, Matteo opted to drive me home saying 'I should learn to care for my wife after all'.

. . .

After hours of being on the road and having Matteo tease me in the most annoying ways possible, he finally brings his car to a halt in front of my family's mansion.

As the car door swings open, I'm met with my boyfriend Simon, who seems to be drunk out of his mind, screaming my name frantically.

I immediately dismiss Matteo and rush out of the car, slamming the door shut before Simon can say anything that might land me in trouble.

"Baby," Simon hiccups, "I've been waiting here all evening. Tell me the text you sent wasn't true. You didn't send that text, did you? How can you ever break up and inform me of your wedding through a text. It's so unlike you." He slurs.

I go to ask him how he found me but Matteo's voice cuts me short. "Is there a problem here? Wife?" Simon looks up at him and back at me. I shut my eyes tightly, hoping that this's a nightmare. But it's not.

"Wife? Wife? So it is true then? How can you do this to me, to us," Simon grits through his teeth as he stretches his arm out to reach for me but I push back.

"You're probably looking for my sister but she's not home. I'm sure if you went to her Lab—"

"I'm not looking for anyone else, it is you Mira—" he gets cut off by a bullet in his head and almost immediately another to his heart.

A loud gasp tears out of my throat and I shudder.

I dive my bottom lip viciously to stop myself from screaming and fist my dress on both sides to stop myself from reaching for the lifeless body of my boyfriend.

"He was beginning to piss me off with the too much talking and slurring and I love some peace and quiet, wife." Matteo chuckles like a man who has no grasp on reality as he tucks back his gun into his waist band and almost immediately, my father appears out of nowhere, questioning me about what happened but I'm unable to get any word out.

I'm frozen in place, watching my boyfriend's body as tears brim my eyes. It's one thing to lose someone so dear to you in this manner and it's another thing being unable to grief in the way you should because you're pretending to be someone else.

I am playing the role of Annabella an assassin, how could I ever show any emotion because of a dead person whom I'm not supposed to know?

"Get into the house, now." Papá orders in a whisper. I nod my response.

"Why do you seem so distraught? Aren't you the infamous assassin, Annabella?" Matteo asks from behind and I gulp.

"You shouldn't have done that," I breath out.

"Why not?"

"That's my sister's boyfriend, how do I tell her that her boyfriend was killed by my husband to be right in front of our house?"

I push my shaky legs to move and force my gaze to remain forward, knowing that one more glance at Simon's dead body and my cover will be blown.

"I didn't think you cared so much for your sister." I hear Matteo's faded voice as I walk into the living area of the mansion.

I'm definitely in for a rough ride.