Cold Trap

MIRABELLA.

I am stuck alone.

A word whispered through tears, one that forged an uncommon bond with my own self. A lifeline that has kept me anchored.

I have lived alone.

I have survived alone.

I have strived alone.

Me against me. Me for me. An unspoken rule.

For the first time in months, a decision is finally made to leave my research laboratory, intending to visit my apartment in town.

This weekend, my desire is to achieve a well deserved rest.

Weaving my keys through my fingers, my eyes sharp and fast, move rapidly around the dimly lit street, my heart racing with suspicion. A lump forms in my throat and I gulp down on it.

By the gate leading into my compound, a shadow casts over me, bringing me to an abrupt stop. Another shadow casts over me, this time, it’s a gasp that escapes me.

I stay rooted on the spot, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Two men in black emerge, taking their stance at both sides of me. I suck in a breath.

This has become a continuous event in my life. Today, I’m free, and tomorrow, I’m a hostage.

It’s the reality of the world I belong in—the world of crime. My relation to Cosa Nostra is not a thing of choice, but of blood ties.

My father, a mafioso and the consigliere of a powerful crime family in Italy. A man who holds power—the one string that connects me to the mafia.

He's a man of very little words, and yet, he’s surrounded by a thick cloud of darkness. A catastrophic, greedy, person who revels in the pain of others. His least favorite people especially.

I am my father’s least favorite person.

One can only imagine how ruined the entirety of my being is, and the only crime I've committed is to be born into a family that loathed me.

My constant abduction has nothing to do with the crime society, but has everything to do with my father.

When I find myself in situations like this, there’s only one person behind it. Emiliano Marcelo.

What father derives pleasure in kidnapping his own daughter?

Mine.

With a roll of my eyes, I put my hands behind me waiting for the men to bind my wrists and blindfold me as they’d always done. “This doesn’t count as kidnapping if I’m willingly going with you,” I snort a laugh as they lead me into the black SUV.

Having a father like mine can pan out to be very detrimental to your mental health. A father whose only interest is money, power, fame, and more money. Never once has he shown any interest in putting his family in order, but plays himself out to be a responsible man in the eyes of the public.

Still blindfolded, I realize the car has come to a stop. Strong hands tug my arms harshly, dragging my staggering form into the usual place.

It never gets old with mio padre.

The blindfold is taken off me just as powerful footsteps approach. My lips form a smile.

“This has become quite predictable, father. If you desired the audience of your daughter, isn’t it courteous to have asked nicely?” The sarcasm in my tone of voice stuns my father. His brows form a crease, his face wearing a scowl.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I quirk a challenging brow at him.

My bold demeanor is a facade—one that might drop seconds from now. My racing heart and trembling fingers give away my fear.

Naturally, whenever my father’s minions are instructed to abduct me, my restraints are immediately taken off once I'm secured at the manor. But today, hours after we arrived the manor, I’m still bound to a chair. In the basement.

It can only indicate one thing, this isn’t the usual rodeo. Something else is at play.

“Sorella.” The gruff voice of my twin sister snaps me back to reality. Her emerald green orbs, glazed with loathe, scrutinizes me from the far end of the basement. I force out a smile, my eyes squinted with irritation.

The corner of her lips curve up into a smirk.

Like father, like daughter.

My twin sister–Annabella– has always taken after my father, and I on the other hand, takes after my mother in more ways than one. Which explains the special bond she shares with mio padre.

With my sister, a lot of similarities are shared. Wavy, jet-black hair, symmetrical face, doe-shaped eyes, perfectly full heart-shaped lips, and child-like features.

One could mistake one for the other. But luckily for me, our eyes might be of the same shape, but we spot differences in eye color.

The features of my eyes have continuously gained me public attention with their uniqueness. With one globe appearing as blue as sapphire stone and cold as ice. And the other globe the color of an emerald sapling field, holding depths of mystery.

My features are the reason heads turn to glance at me twice in less than a second, except, I haven't had the pleasure of so many heads turning to peek that second glance at me. Twenty six years of my life has been utterly and completely boring. Just the same routine everyday.

The first ten years of my life was spent acquiring knowledge within the four walls of my home. My mother who had been my tutor unfortunately passed, giving my father the opportunity to ship me off into a facility far far away from home.

It had been a stupid excuse of a boarding school. After long months of enduring excruciating pain, an opportunity to escape that hell-hole presented itself. I took it.

My escape had been my rebirth. My freedom. Or maybe it was me who had deluded myself with the idea of freedom.

With the vast knowledge gathered from my mama, I became a lab scientist, and I’ve since been confined in the four walls of my research laboratory.

During the years when I was hidden away from the world, Annabella had been lucky enough to live freely. She attended the best schools, and when she came of age, mio padre had trained her in the ways of the mafia. And today, she’s a renowned assassin.

So, Anabella and I might share a few similarities, but we’re two worlds apart. And the loathe we share for one another is stronger than the blood ties that binds us together.

“Your sister will be getting married in two weeks.” My father announces.

My lips stretch into a genuine smile. “Well, father, you should’ve just sent me an invite. I’d have been more than happy to attend.”

That’s when I see the look in his eyes. The look that says he’s in a difficult situation and needs saving. And if I’m still strapped to this chair, I guess I’m the one doing the saving.

“What do you need?” I ask.

With a sigh, my father breathes out a sigh, his voice a deadpan when he says. “You’ll be standing in for your sister.”

“What?”

“There’s a mission requiring her attention, and I wouldn’t appreciate it if she missed out on this opportunity because of this marriage arrangement. She’ll be gone for at least six months. Until then, you’re to remain married to her husband.”

With a shake of my head, a chuckle rumbles in my chest. “I’m certain the gentleman can wait six more months.”

“That could be true,” mio padre agrees. “Except the groom seems to be revolted by this arrangement. Any more delay, and he’d see enough reasons to call it off.”

“If he doesn’t want to marry, papa, let him be.”

Laughter erupts in my father’s throat. His eyes, dripping with venomous rage, shoots me a glare. A muscle feathers in my jaw. “Your stupidity has no end, does it?” The low growl of his voice meets my ears. “It is important that we become a part of that family, Mirabella, and you will play your part. You can no longer run away from your duty to your family.”

“My family?” I snort a laugh, making certain my sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. “Why is it so important, becoming a part of the so-called family you speak of?”

“Because, Mirabella, why be a consigliere when you can become the Don, hmm?” My father whispers, laughter bubbling out of him. My eyes narrow at him, my brain running in circles, the desire to fully decipher his words tugging at my heart.

My eyes widen in understanding.

“You greedy basta—” the palm of my father’s hand connects my face. Hard. His fist curls around my hair, yanking my head backwards with a sneer. A yelp escapes me. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes. Papa’s hand connects my face again, drawing an even louder scream from my throat.

“You’ll watch your mouth when speaking to me, Mirabella. You’ll walk the path curated for you silently, do you understand.”

I fume. “Throwing me to the wolves? Is that the path? If you want to be Don so bad, why don’t you just kill them all? Why do I have to be married to someone for so long just so you can get whatever it is you want?”

Mio padre’s hand surrounds my neck, his fist tightening so hard my airflow almost cuts off. With a shake of his head, he tsks. “You’re going to marry that arrogant son of a bitch, Mirabella. You’ll become a part of them, gain their trust, and gain inside information. Do you understand?”

“You’re consigliere, I’m certain you have access to more than enough information.”

“I need more. I need something greater than what I have, and you’ll help me get my hands on it.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I breathe out a defeated sigh, knowing that no amount of arguing can get me out of this. My lips finally elicit the question that has hung on the tip of my tongue from the commencement of this conversation. “Whom am I marrying?”

“Matteo Messina Denaro.”

Matteo?

Matteo.

I’ve had little or no association with made men, but this name has a familiar ping to it.

Oh God.

Matteo. He’s the. . .

“Hell no. Please no. You can’t get me married to that monster. Please father, I’ll do anything but not him. I’ll be dead even before Annabella returns to take her place.”

Rope after rope of tears relentlessly slide down my cheeks. He’s a monster, an inhumane, selfish, arrogant man. It’s impossible that I survive as his wife.

This is the same man whose sister, brother, and grandparents lost their lives to over some misunderstanding. Matteo Messina Denaro is a vile man. The most dreaded of all made men.

A man willing to do anything for power. A man who’d rather soak himself in blood than accept the idea of peace. That is the same man my father wants for me.

It becomes clear as day. There’s no mission requiring Annabella’s attention. My sister is too precious to my father, so much so he cannot bring himself to give her away in marriage to that demon.

My lips tremble, my heart pounds hard and fast against my throat, almost drawing bile. Gulping down the lump forming in my throat, I ramble.

For long minutes, I ramble, pleading that I’m spared from this brutal judgment. Mio padre is unheeding.

I remind him of Matteo’s and Anabella’s previous encounters, reminding him that he’d spot our differences from afar. Papa reasons that a disguise has been made ready. I remind him that my personality differs from my sister’s, and he reminds me that they’ve only met once, making it impossible for Matteo to know so much of my sister with just one meeting.

There’s no way out of this, that much has become clear.

“You’re having dinner with his family in two days. Anna will put you through whatever it is you have to know before then. Please, Mirabella, do not disappoint me.”

My father’s tone of voice is commanding, a ring of challenge to his words. Like a dare. More tears slide down my cheeks, regret, pain, and sorrow tugging painfully at my heart.

All the years spent chasing freedom, gone to waste.

It is happening. In just two weeks, I’ll go from being a lab rat, to becoming the wife of the most dangerous man in the Italian mafia.

The heir and soon to be Don of the most powerful famiglia of the Sicilian mafia.

MIRABELLA.

Wanting to take a glimpse of yourself through a mirror is a desire to see yourself through your own eyes.

Looking at my reflection, I am not content with myself. I am no longer myself. I am now a different person, trying to be someone whom I’m not.

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.

Lost in thought, my nervous fingers tug at the straps of my extravagant dress, ripping them off. The dress pools at my ankles. I step out of it. The heavy makeup plastered across my face is the next thing I discard.

In my moment of absentmindedness, I begin to wonder how long my father has had this plan thought out. There has to be something he’s not telling me.

Could this be the reason he made certain I never got introduced to the underworld? Because he didn’t want people knowing he has two daughters who are inexplicably 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. I eye my father through the mirror.

Of course he’s boiling in rage, seeing that 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.

My father pulls out a chair for 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 and 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, Adam’s 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?”

Matteo is a beautiful man for certain but he’s annoying and I see that he loves disrespecting and putting people down.

With a clear to my throat, I relax better on my seat and begin digging into my plate knowing well that I just ignored my so called fiancée; and of course his eyes are burning holes through me.

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’; very friendly duo and I ask myself how Maria was able to conceive someone such as Matteo.

Someone so withdrawn, someone whose presence can make one shiver; just the way the whole room feels so uncomfortably cold because of his demeanor.

How am I supposed to live with this man for six months?

I finally excuse myself to use the restroom after I’ve had enough of Matteo’s intimidating eyes tearing me down and cursing me out even when his lips has said nothing.

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 and my heart goes ballistic. Sweat immediately trickling from my forehead and I continue swallowing on nothing.

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

“I-isn’t it normal for a bride to get nervous once her big day is nearing?”

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

“Don’t you want it? Matteo?”

“Oh 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 trails 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 immediately.

“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,” Matteo orders and I slowly bring my gaze up to meet his. He holds my jaw for a minute while looking into my eyes as though searching for something, and when it finally feels like he found what he seems to be searching for, he let out a scoff and gives his head a slight nod.

Matteo moves out of the way and gestures me towards the door. And as I twist the door knob, he says something that stops me in my tracks. “Mirabella?”

He calls out in a way that seems like he knows who I truly am. I halt my movement as a cold sensation takes possession of me but I do not dare look back at him or even say a word; and from where I’m standing, I can hear him chuckle like a maniac.

“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; dumb fuck.

I hurriedly storm out of the restroom but I hear Matteo muttering ‘sure she does’ before letting out a very disturbing laugh; and I immediately know that every rumor about him is true.

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 way possible, he finally brings his car to a halt in front of my family’s mansion and as I open the car door, I’m met with my boyfriend Simon, who seems to be drunk out of his mind and screaming my name frantically until he spots me.

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 and I tightly shut my eyes, hoping that this is a nightmare and someone will just wake me up.

“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 get cut off my Simon, “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 is one thing to lose someone so dear to you in this manner and it is 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,” my father orders in whisper and 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 shudder and begin walking into the house without looking back.

I really want to look back but I cannot; for some reason, I don’t want my cover to 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.