BE MY BRIDE

“Be my bride”

The words hung in the air, so surreal that they felt almost like a bad joke. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a cold sweat broke out across my skin, and my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for some sign that this was all a twisted prank. But his expression remained cold and unyielding. Slowly, my shock gave way to anger, a burning heat rising from my chest to my throat.

How dare he? How dare he corner me like this, making such a demand?

The laugh that bubbled up in my throat was bitter, laced with the terror I tried so desperately to suppress.

“Sorry for the laugh, but are you serious right now?” I asked, my voice laced with derision. “You must be out of your mind if you think I'd agree to this.”

“Cleopatra!” Aunt Lydia scolded, her voice sharp and devoid of warmth.

Despite the warning, I couldn’t stifle my laughter. The idea that Russo, the infamous Mafia Kingpin who had had a one nightstand with several women would propose such a ludicrous offer left me almost breathless with disbelief.

The idea was so absurd, so terrifying, that my mind struggled to even process it. A thousand thoughts collided in my head: the debt, my parents, the future I had barely begun to envision. I looked up at Russo, hoping desperately that I’d find some trace of humor in his eyes, some sign that this was a cruel joke. But his expression was as cold and unyielding as stone. Fear and anger churned within me, fear of what might happen if I refused, and anger at being cornered like this.

I stretched out my hand to his face, showing him the ring on my fingers.

“See, I'm engaged,” I mocked.

Enzo’s expression darkened, the air in the room thickening with tension. His jaw tightened, and a cold, calculated glint flickered in his eyes. This was a man not accustomed to being mocked or questioned. His silence was more unnerving than any threat he could have voiced. He was weirdly warm to me which was quite unusual, and I planned to take advantage of it, maybe strike a negotiable deal with him. I wasn't aware of the impending debt after all.

I glanced at Aunt Lydia, hoping to find some support, some sign that this was as insane to her as it was to me.

Why is Aunt Lydia so calm?

Did she know about this all along?

If this was this her scheme to get rid of me and inherit my father's properties, then I would never allow her to have her way. She’d always been distant, her affection as rare and cold as a winter sunrise. I remembered family gatherings from years ago where her disdain for my mother was barely concealed, the way she would mutter about how my mother had “stolen” her brother away from his true family. Now, with my parents gone, that bitterness seemed to have curdled into pure hatred.

“Aunt, you're not saying anything, this can't be true, is it?” I asked, giving her a chance to explain her silence.

“Don't involve me in your misery, don't,” she replied coldly. “Your father took a huge loan and used you as collateral, what had that got to do with me?”

Before I could react, the door swung open with a bang, and a group of Russo’s men dressed in suits stormed in, their movements swift and purposeful.

“No, no, no,” I said my voice increasing with every disagreement. “My father loves me, he would never use me as a loan collateral. I don't believe this.” I retorted.

“I'm not proposing to you, but you have two options, pay me back my money this minute or be my bride,” Russo said, his voice cold.

“Over my dead body,” I spat, the words coming out more fiercely than I’d intended. But as I said them, a sliver of doubt crept into my mind. What would happen if I refused him? The thought of living under his control, of being forced into a life I hadn’t chosen, sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Take her away,” he commanded.

I took a few steps backward as the men slowly moved closer to me. I took a glance at the door that remained ajar, my instincts screaming to run.

Without a second thought, I bolted toward the open door, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear Aunt Lydia screaming my name as well as the heavy footsteps of the guards behind me, their pursuit relentless. My mourning gown clung to my legs, soaked and heavy, slowing me down. The rain had reduced to a drizzle, but the ground was slick, making my escape even more difficult.

Russo wasn't just any man; he was a king in a kingdom built on fear and violence. His family, the Russos, had ruled the underworld of New York for generations, their name synonymous with power, wealth, and ruthlessness. When his parents died, Enzo had taken up the mantle with the help of his grandfather, carving out an empire that was even more feared than the one he’d inherited. How my father had ended up entangled with a man like him, I couldn’t begin to understand. What dark corner of the world had my family stumbled into without my knowledge?

I stumbled, my feet slipping on the wet ground, but I hurriedly stood up and kept going, pushing myself to move faster. I could feel them gaining on me, their presence like a dark cloud looming over me. My breath came in ragged gasps, each step more desperate than the last.

Mother, Father, please save me, I cried silently as I sprinted through the dark and wet streets.

Rough hands grabbed my arms, yanking me back with such force that I nearly fell. I struggled, thrashing against their iron grips, but it was no use. They dragged me back toward the house, my feet barely touching the ground as I was hauled like a rag doll.

As we neared the entrance, I saw Russo standing outside, his figure silhouetted against the dark sky. He watched me with an unsettling calmness, his face unreadable. There was no hint of the earlier tension, just a cold, detached gaze that sent a wave of fear crashing over me.

The guards forced me to my knees in front of him, my breath hitching as I tried to steady myself. My heart pounded in my ears, the reality of my situation sinking in with terrifying clarity. I had pushed him too far, and now, I was going to pay the price.

Russo’s eyes locked onto mine, and he reached out, his hand tracing the curve of my chin. His touch was deceptively gentle, but it sent a cold chill down my spine, freezing me in place. I couldn’t look away, trapped by the intensity of his gaze.

“How dare you try to run away from me, little pawn?” he started. “Do you know why I'm called Russo instead of Enzo? It's because I'm as dangerous as my late father”

I stared at his thin cute lips curving into a devious smirk as he spoke proudly about himself.

“Get your filthy hands off my face,” I spat and at once, he shoved my face away. I flung back the hair lying across my face, his back now turned to me with his hands tucked in in his pockets.

“I'd rather die than get married to you, NEVER,” I declared in annoyance.

“Perfect,” Russo said clapping his hands as he turned to look at my face. “Do you mean what you had just said?” he asked. “There's no going back”

A soft scoff escaped my lips as I stared directly into his brown eyes. “I'd rather die than get married than to you”

“Okay then, kill her.”