In His Grasp: A Mafia Romance

Chapter 3: Marrying Her Off To An Old Man

Chapter 3: Marrying Her Off to an Old Man

The instant Emanuele's hand closed around Isabella's neck, she recoiled as if electrified. The room fell into a stunned silence, their companions' eyes wide and fixed on the pair.

"What's amiss, Isabella?" Sophia queried, her voice laced with worry.

"I'm fine. I just need to freshen up," Isabella replied, swiftly rising to her feet and making a beeline for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

The temporary escape from Emanuele's stifling presence was like a gulp of fresh air. "Damn it," Isabella muttered under her breath, the bitterness of her words echoing her resolve to sever any ties with them.

Emerging from the restroom, a walk through the garden corridor was all that separated her from the dining room. But to her shock, she found Emanuele engrossed in a phone conversation. His tone was icy, his words as cutting as a winter breeze, "The swine won't divulge his boss' whereabouts? Then sever his limbs, throw him in a pit with rats, and let him watch as they feast on his flesh!"

Emanuele's chilling declaration sent a wave of dread coursing through Isabella. This man was as she had feared – a devil incarnate. Exclusive content from NôvelDrama.Org.

Just then, Emanuele spotted Isabella, his voice dropping an octave lower. He exchanged a few curt words before ending the call and advancing towards her.

In the dim light, his predatory gaze made him resemble a vampire on the prowl.

Without a second thought, Isabella turned on her heel, heading back towards the house.

She believed that at least in front of the others, Emanuele wouldn't dare to harm her. Little did she know, she would soon hear Emanuele's voice from behind, "If you take one more step, I will shoot and break your legs!"

The menacing presence of Emanuele froze Isabella in place. Within moments, he was looming over her, a towering figure of intimidation.

"Please, I heard nothing. Let me go," Isabella implored, her voice barely a whisper.

Emanuele's dark, sinister laugh echoed in the tense air. "You're that scared of me, little sis?"

Isabella's frame quivered under his gaze, and she tried to invoke a pitiful image, hoping to stir some semblance of familial affection in him. "Emanuele... I'm your sister. Please, show mercy."

The corners of Emanuele's lips curled up into a smirk at her plea, as if he found her fear amusing. He drew her close, his strong arms wrapping around her trembling form. He saw the defiance flicker in her eyes, beneath the layers of fear. He observed her revulsion, thinly veiled behind her pleas for mercy.

The contradiction intrigued him - why did she tremble with fear, yet refused to succumb?

Fascinating indeed!

Emanuele had been aware of this stepsister long before her appearance in his life. Her sudden presence presented a complex dilemma. His father's remarriage, two decades after his mother's passing, didn't bother him. However, this stepmother's daughter attempting to weave herself into their family fabric was something he wouldn't tolerate.

It signified the potential division of their family's power and wealth. Everyone knew the Lombardi family held a significant influence on this continent. Numerous women yearned to be associated

with them. The notion of a random woman aspiring to become a mafia princess within their ranks was nothing short of audacious!

So, he had conducted a thorough investigation, learning that she was a twenty-two-year-old college graduate-to-be, currently interning at a hospital. Upon their first encounter, he had to concede that she possessed a captivating beauty. Her skin was as creamy and flawless as porcelain, her auburn hair silky soft. Her features were exquisite, eyes always alight with a brilliant sparkle.

Her world was pristine, untainted - a crystal-clear lake in a world of chaos.

She carried a unique, intoxicating scent, a blend of blossoms and ripe fruits, embodying youth and vivacity.

In complete contrast, he is the harbinger of death from hell, striving for what he wants in a dirty, bloody world. He took over their family business ten years ago and, over a decade, expanded their territory by stepping over countless bodies. After that, they moved to their large estate in Chicago.

He has killed so many people that he can't even count them anymore. The bloodthirsty brutality deep within him has turned killing into a pleasurable indulgence.

As he looks at Isabella in her fragile state, for some inexplicable reason, Emanuele's bloodthirsty nature awakens. He entertains cruel thoughts, desiring to crush her and watch her beg for mercy as she kneels in pain.

Shattering beauty must be a most delightful endeavor, right?

"You shouldn't be here," Emanuele, with one hand holding Isabella and the other pinching her chin, caresses her face. He smiles cruelly, "Tell me, how should I deal with you?"

Deal with her? Thinking of the methods Emanuele had just used to deal with his enemies, Isabella immediately said, "Please, when we return tonight, I will cut off all contact with your world. I'll

disappear from your life."

She was on the brink of tears, scared out of her wits. Death had filled Isabella with profound fear, and Emanuele's sadistic ways only deepened her dread.

Her voice was sweet and melodious. It was particularly alluring when she begged like this. Emanuele's blood began to boil. He even thought about how she might beg in bed.

Gently patting Isabella's cheek, Emanuele spoke in a tone that was both chilling and calm. "Innocent girl, it's too late. The moment you stepped into our family, you crossed a line that can't be uncrossed."

A sudden spark of an idea ignited in Emanuele's eyes, and he erupted into a harsh laughter. "I've got it! Why not have you marry George, my father's most trusted aide? He's a decade younger than our father and probably won't outlive him by much. You'll lead a comfortable life over there." His smile twisted cruelly, "Although, I've heard George's sons have a particular fondness for tormenting women. No woman who has entered their household has survived beyond three days. If you were to marry him, it would save me a lot of hassle."

Isabella was petrified, her eyes welling up with tears. "I don't want to marry. I'm still young, please, big brother..."

She was fresh out of college, had a promising career ahead of her, and she didn't want her future to be marred like this.

Thinking of this, Isabella couldn't help the lump that formed in her throat. The overwhelming feeling of being suffocated returned. Her claustrophobia reared its head during times like these, making her fear confined spaces and moments that made her feel trapped.

However, Isabella's tears seemed to only fuel Emanuele's perverse delight. For some strange reason, the thought of shattering her beauty and leaving her in ruins was exhilarating to him.

"What are you two doing?" Grazia's voice broke through the tense atmosphere. Emerging from the dining room, she scrutinized them with curiosity.

She harbored the feeling that Isabella's absence had extended beyond the acceptable length, her concerns escalating towards the possibility of her companion's misplacement. It was during this growing apprehension that her gaze chanced upon the intertwined figures of Emanuele and Isabella.

For Isabella, Grazia's presence was akin to a beacon of salvation. Once freed from Emanuele's grasp, she managed to regain her breath, a much-needed respite.

"Isabella had a moment of panic after encountering a mouse and nearly stumbled. I was merely assisting her," Emanuele provided an explanation.

At this juncture, the transformation in his demeanor was palpable. Gone was the intimidating persona that Isabella had encountered earlier, replaced by a veneer of gentlemanly charm.