Dangerous Secrets: My Mafia Stepbrother

“If you move again, I’ll finish you right here,” Emanuele warned, his voice dripping with menace.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Isabella immediately froze, her heart pounding with fear. She couldn’t believe how physically aroused this man had become, and it terrified her. She dreaded that Emanuele might force himself on her again, using her as a tool to satisfy his desires, just like before.

But amidst this fear, a disturbing desire emerged within her. It was a desire she found repulsive, something completely unlike herself. Isabella couldn’t comprehend these conflicting emotions.

Emanuele, on the other hand, struggled to maintain control. At first, he hadn’t regarded Isabella as a woman, but now, her body and scent were driving him wild with longing. He could feel her warm body pressed against his, her softness, and the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume. All of it was tearing at his restraint, urging him to strip her bare and claim her right then and there.

Isabella dared not move and could only lie helplessly in his arms. She responded to his earlier question with a trembling voice, “Yes.”

Emanuele’s hand moved from her face to her hair, expertly undoing the bun she had tied up for work. Her long, chestnut curls cascaded down, shimmering beautifully under the dim light.

His index finger traced patterns through her hair, making Isabella feel as though she were an object of amusement. She was utterly defenseless in his grasp.

“Then he drove you back here. What did you talk about downstairs?” Emanuele inquired.

Isabella couldn’t believe that he knew about this as well. Did he have people monitoring her every move?

“He asked why I had moved here. I told him about what happened last night, and he offered to drive me in the future,” Isabella replied truthfully.

“He offered to drive you?” Emanuele’s brow furrowed, and he felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. He didn’t like the idea of someone else ensuring Isabella’s safety, as it made him feel inadequate in protecting his own.

“Isabella, you’re a clever girl. You should know how to decline Clark’s offer,” Emanuele said as his hand traveled down her back.

Isabella felt like a helpless pet under his touch. She longed to get away from this man who treated her like a plaything.

“I understand,” she replied meekly, still maintaining her obedient facade.

Because Isabella had been so compliant, Emanuele felt a sense of satisfaction. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll have Tony and the others drive you to the hospital. The cars have been modified with bulletproof glass and top-notch safety features to withstand even the impact of a truck. Safety is guaranteed from every angle.”

Isabella let out a sigh. She couldn’t comprehend Emanuele’s sudden shift from wanting to kill her to wanting to protect her. Their relationship had become increasingly bizarre, neither fitting the mold of siblings nor friends. It was an unsettling, complicated connection.

“Protecting you doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill you,” Emanuele, as if reading her thoughts, said callously. “It’s about upholding the dignity of being the head of the Chicago Mafia. Even if you were a mere dog by my side, I would protect you.”

Isabella’s anger flared, and she clenched her fists. How dare he compare her to a dog?

“Oh, by the way, your luggage has already been brought here. It’s in your room. You can go check it,” Emanuele said, releasing his hold on her in the process.

Isabella promptly jumped off his lap and headed to her room. She found most of her clothes were intact, and, most importantly, the iron box was there. She opened it and saw her belongings inside, letting out a sigh of relief.

Emanuele watched as Isabella lovingly held an old Barbie doll, and he couldn’t help but sneer, “An old, tattered Barbie doll? You adore this?”

When he had opened the box earlier, he had found family photos, her mother’s picture, and some strange diary entries with just a few keywords. They seemed to be written on days with bad weather. He couldn’t understand why Isabella would keep such items so preciously.

Isabella, still hugging the Barbie, turned to Emanuele and said, “She’s not just a doll; she’s my cherished possession from childhood.”

Emanuele snorted, “In any case, I’ve kept my promise to you, Isabella. I hope you can keep your promise to me. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind if you married Clark tomorrow.”

Emanuele suddenly thought that if Isabella married Clark, she would be under his protection, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her safety. It might even facilitate further cooperation with the Campbell family. However, the idea of her being with another man filled him with a strange discomfort. It was as if something he owned was being taken away.

Isabella, feeling cornered, immediately protested, “I don’t want to get married.”

Why did Emanuele always push her to get married? It was so contradictory. He wanted her to marry Clark, yet he didn’t want her to be with him. The situation was baffling.

Seeing Emanuele’s stern demeanor, Isabella softened her tone, saying, “At least, not right now.”

“You’re graduating in July, with just a month to go, Isabella. I’ll discuss it with Clark. You’ll marry him in a month,” Emanuele declared.

A month? Isabella’s heart raced, and she felt a choking sensation in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Why did Emanuele always vacillate between appearing good and being utterly infuriating?

She watched Emanuele leave, but his presence seemed to linger, suffocating her. After some time, when her emotions had somewhat calmed, she picked up her phone and called Clark, “Clark, do you want to marry me?”