All Chapters of SOLD TO THE MAFIA HEIR : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Isabella's POV Twenty-two was the night I first met Enzo De Luca; hardly old enough to understand the actual weight of the planet I had been born into. He was only a figure murmured in dark corners, his name passed about like a secret, tinged with dread and longing; he was not meant to be in my life. But my life changed permanently when I saw him—that is, really saw him.And much of what scared me was not him. That was the side of me longing for him.I had come upon him in the most unusual manner. Though there were sections of the home I had been advised to avoid, my father's estate was constantly alive with murmurs of mafia business and violent dealings. I need to have paid attention.But that evening, my curiosity won out. Cigars and costly whiskey hung on the walls, and muted laughing floated over the vast hallways. It was late, far later than I ought to have been prowling about. But something had attracted me to the guest wing I never explored at the rear of the home.I heard it

Isabella's POV Not one night since the wedding. Luca Vitale's warning kept repeating in my head, his haughty attitude as he all but assured me that I was next on his kill list. Every time I considered what he said, my heart accelerated. I was caught in a marriage I felt like a perilous game for which I lacked the skills.Still, here I was.I fixed my gaze on my image in the large mirror mounted on the Enzo penthouse room wall. My skin pallid against the silky cloth of my nightgown, dark circles ringed my eyelids. I seemed delicate, as if I may break with one touch. I afford to be delicate, though. not here. Not at the moment.Days had gone since Luca's threat, and the air's tension had only gotten more intense. Enzo and his guys had been busy; the penthouse became an improvised war room, tactics murmured over maps and records I was not allowed to view.Not yet, but I did not live in that world. Deep down, though, I knew it was just a matter of time until it sucked me in totally.My

Enzo’s POV At least, I told myself over the years that my shoulders never actually carried the weight of the world. Strength came easily; control seemed like an old friend I could depend on when all else failed. Still, it was unique in another respect. Something that crept under my notice and bothered me.Sitting on the brink of my king-sized apartment's bed, I watched the whiskey glass in my palm spin with the smallest of finger gestures. Though all I could see in the city below was Isabella's face, the jumble of lights and shadows. My man. My beautiful yet quiet, rebellious wife is shy.I reasoned she would behave like any other woman when I consented to this arrangement. Made sense. Terrorized. Bella showed none of this as a piece in the game of men. She was internally burning, and every time we shared a room, it flashed dangerously. And the flames were starting to make me alive.My phone vibrated on the nightstand, which took me off-target from hers. I looked at the TV. Sofia lef

Luca’s POV Tension was high in the warehouse, an unsaid storm building between Isabella and her father. The location seems sinister with the lengthy shadows the low light creates over the concrete floor. But I knew places like this—cold, hostile, full of secrets. The look on Isabella's face was one I was not used to. Fury, treachery, and something more I cannot quite identify. I watched her; every muscle in my body coiled under stress. She stayed still, gazing her father down with a ferocity I had not seen before. This was another Isabella—the lady who had been my pawn, once terrified but now stood resolutely. And I struggled to determine if I respected her will or worried more about maybe killing her. Marco Russo, her father, stood sloppily, his hands still in his pockets, but he had a menacing shine in his eyes. This was not the dad who had just offered his daughter for sale. This man carried more cards than anyone could have imagined. "I will ask you once more.," Isabella spoke

Luca’s POVTension was high in the warehouse, an unsaid storm building between Isabella and her father. The location seems sinister with the lengthy shadows the low light creates over the concrete floor. But I knew places like this—cold, hostile, full of secrets. The look on Isabella's face was one I was not used to. Fury, treachery, and something more I cannot quite identify.I watched her; every muscle in my body coiled under stress. She stayed still, gazing her father down with a ferocity I had not seen before. This was another Isabella—the lady who had been my pawn, once terrified but now stood resolutely. And I struggled to determine if I respected her will or worried more about maybe killing her.Marco Russo, her father, stood sloppily, his hands still in his pockets, but he had a menacing shine in his eyes. This was not the dad who had just offered his daughter for sale. This man carried more cards than anyone could have imagined."I will ask you once more.," Isabella spoke wit