Dangerous Secrets: My Mafia Stepbrother

In the grip of Isabella’s anxiety and restlessness, the day of Sophia’s wedding had arrived.

The evening before the nuptials, Isabella returned to her sanctuary of solitude, only to find Emanuele there, once again. His silent, unannounced appearances left her wondering if he saw her home as an extension of his own.

“Mr. Lombardi, could you extend a touch of courtesy towards my privacy?” Isabella demanded, her eyes flashing irritation at Emanuele.

From that point on, she made it a point to fortify her doors and windows before surrendering to sleep. She even shifted a cabinet to barricade her doorway, haunted by the fear that Emanuele might materialize in her home during the ungodly hours of the night. The thought was unnerving!

Emanuele couldn’t suppress his amusement, his smile revealing his mirth. It was as if he found the audacity of a captive bird demanding freedom and privacy from its captor rather amusing.

“I’ve brought you a set of clothing. Give it a try,” Emanuele motioned towards the gift box on the bed, directing Isabella to change into the attire.

Upon opening the box, Isabella was taken aback. It was the latest CHANEL haute couture, a symbol of opulence and grandeur.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

The dress was a soft shade of blue, its fabric gentle against the skin, adorned with intricate patterns woven from fine golden threads that shimmered under the light. No woman, least of all Isabella, could resist the allure of such exquisite clothing. She had never laid eyes on such a luxurious brand before.

Isabella found herself caught in the thrill of imagining how breathtaking she would look in that dress.

Emanuele noticed her reaction, and peculiarly, her delight brought him a sense of satisfaction. He hadn’t anticipated that a simple dress could evoke such joy in this woman.

Although Isabella was tempted to adorn the dress, she couldn’t bring herself to accept this devil’s gift, especially when it bore the taint of blood money. She was a doctor, sworn to preserve lives, so how could she accept a gift from someone whose hands were stained with the blood of countless lives?

“I don’t want it,” Isabella declared firmly. “I’ve already chosen my attire for tomorrow.”

With that, she retrieved her own simple white dress from her closet.

Seeing the elegant yet somewhat modest dress, Emanuele’s expression turned stormy. His brow furrowed, he challenged Isabella, “Isabella, have I been too lenient with you?”

His words sent a chill down Isabella’s spine. She was genuinely terrified of him.

“If it weren’t for your remaining usefulness, you would already be a corpse,” Emanuele said ominously.

Emanuele, known for his deep love for family, showed a softer side at home. But outside that circle, his patience thinned, especially for those he deemed worthless. Isabella was an exception, her usefulness keeping her alive. Had it not been for that, he would have eliminated her effortlessly, like squashing an ant, on the night she entered their world.

Confronted with Emanuele’s threats, Isabella felt her claustrophobia creeping in. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her panic. She couldn’t risk more defiance against this devil. Biting her lip, she agreed to his demands, silently.

Resigned, she turned to change into the dress.

In the mirror, Isabella’s transformation was startling. The dress clung to her like a second skin, its shimmering fabric accentuating her figure in the light. She looked almost ethereal, a stark contrast from her usual attire of a plain white blouse and khaki pants.

“Are you done?” Emanuele’s impatient voice came from outside the door.

Stepping out, Isabella caught Emanuele’s eye, rendering him speechless. He saw her not just as a nuisance, but as a woman in full bloom. Isabella, with her voluptuous curves and full figure, defied the trend of slim beauty. The dress highlighted her generous breasts and rounded hips, presenting her as the epitome of seduction.

Her fair skin, set against the light blue of the dress, seemed to radiate a soft glow. The V-neckline drew his eyes to her cleavage, sparking a curiosity in him about the feel of her skin. Watching her hips sway as she approached, he couldn’t help but imagine the allure of her in his arms.

Emanuele felt a dryness in his throat, a fiery desire building within. There was an undeniable attraction to Isabella, a yearning he found hard to suppress.

Isabella, sensing his intense gaze, froze. She didn’t want to get any closer, fear mingling with a strange sense of vulnerability.

But Emanuele, acting on impulse, reached out and pulled her onto his lap.

“Let go of me,” Isabella protested, pushing against his chest. His masculine scent overwhelmed her, igniting a desperate need to escape.

Emanuele’s words were like venom, “You’re such a temptress,” he taunted, his hands a marauding presence on her soft flesh. “So beautiful, and those men tomorrow will be ensnared by your allure.”

His hands, hot and unyielding, traced the contours of Isabella’s body, igniting a storm of humiliation and fury within her. This was a trespass too far. In her heart, a dark wish bloomed-if only she could end this man’s existence!

He held her close, his gaze a predator’s survey from her chest to her neck. Her skin, smooth and delicate, contrasted starkly with his rugged touch. He fought an urge primal and dark, to mark her neck with his teeth, as desire surged within him like a tempest.

But then, his eyes met the fierce inferno in Isabella’s, a vehement refusal to yield, despite her vulnerability. It was a challenge too intoxicating to resist.

Suddenly, Emanuele was jolted from his trance of desire. This could not continue.

He released Isabella abruptly, standing to assert his command. “Tomorrow, wear a dress to the wedding. Defy me, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” he declared, his exit as swift as it was unyielding.

Alone, Emanuele grappled with his longing for Isabella. The night was deep, their solitude in the room a dangerous catalyst. Her image, dressed to allure, haunted his thoughts, tempting his resolve.

Emanuele, despite his power to claim any woman, despised the grip of his desires over his reason. His tenure as the Chicago Mafia’s head had thrived on his cunning and self-control. Those who underestimated him had found their fates sealed in shadow.

Left alone, Isabella’s composure slowly returned. Each encounter with Emanuele left her teetering on an emotional precipice, torn between fear and a desperate urge to escape his suffocating presence.

What could she do? Could her mother offer sanctuary? Did she have any means to shield her from this tempest?