Dangerous Secrets: My Mafia Stepbrother

Isabella stood there, a deer caught in headlights, as the man with golden hair like sunlit strands and eyes deep blue like the ocean gazed at her. His smile, seemingly polite and inviting, was a well-crafted mask hiding the wolf lurking beneath. She could feel it in her bones, a cold shiver running down her spine – anyone who ran with Emanuele was anything but simple, anything but harmless.

The Campbell Group, a name that echoed with power and dark secrets, was not just a corporate titan but a front for something far more sinister. The mafia. Isabella never imagined that Emanuele, a figure shrouded in mystery and danger, would be at its core. The sight of Clark, his lips pressing against hers, caused Emanuele’s brow to furrow deeply, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. This was supposed to be a day of joy, yet there he stood, his mood as dark as the clouds on a stormy night.

Pressured by Emanuele’s intense gaze, Isabella found herself responding, her voice barely above a whisper, her smile weak and wavering. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, her politeness a thin mask over the turmoil swirling inside her.

But Emanuele saw through it all. The gentle smile she offered others, the softness in her voice, the way she moved with such ease – all of it contrasted sharply with the cold, distant, and fearful façade she presented to him. It grated on him, the unseen side of her that he never got to see.

Emanuele’s anger boiled over. With a grip as tight as iron, he declared to the room, his voice thundering, “Isabella and I need to discuss something.” He pulled her along, his hold unyielding, towards the study.

The party continued in the banquet hall, but between Emanuele and Isabella, the air was thick with unspoken words and brewing storms.

At the study’s door, Emanuele’s push sent Isabella stumbling, her balance teetering on the edge of control. The door slammed shut behind them, trapping them in a world of their own, charged with tension and unspoken fury.

Emanuele, his face twisted in rage, grabbed her shoulder, yanking her toward him. His words were like venom, his voice a growling thunder, “Flirting with everyone, are you? Acting like a common harlot? Do you have any idea how much you’re embarrassing me?”

Isabella, taken aback, retorted with a mixture of shock and defiance. “You wanted me to marry, didn’t you? I’m just following your script. What more do you want from me?”

Emanuele’s expression turned even colder, his eyes burning with a fury that seemed to consume him. “What do I want? You think you’ve trapped Clark, my brother. But I have to ensure you’re worthy of him.”

His mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, an unsolvable puzzle. He wanted to crush her spirit, to dominate her completely. An irrational impulse surged through him, a fierce desire to break her defiance.

In a sudden, aggressive move, he yanked down the straps of her top, exposing the delicate curve of her cleavage, her skin pale as moonlight. Isabella’s scream echoed through the room, a sound of terror and disbelief. She fumbled to cover herself, her hands trembling, her face drained of color, tears brimming in her eyes.

“You’re insane! I’m your stepsister!” she cried out, her voice laced with horror as she scrambled away, seeking refuge in a corner, desperate to escape his touch. The reality was too grotesque, too unthinkable.

“Stepsister?” Emanuele’s smile was cruel, his tone dark and ominous. “Just a title. Remember, I rule Chicago. There’s nothing I can’t do.”

Isabella crouched in the corner, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. Her lips quivered, her breaths ragged and desperate. Her mind teetered on the brink of collapse; she needed her medication, her claustrophobia clawing at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

“Isabella, be good and obedient.” Emanuele suddenly crouched down and looked at Isabella in the corner. For a moment, he saw that she was really obedient.

Emanuele had rarely seen such a sweet side of Isabella, and his movements had softened a little.

Emanuele reached out and touched Isabella’s cheek. The rough rub of the man’s hand, thick with calluses from years of gun handling, touched her skin and made Isabella’s skin grow goosebumps.

Isabella wanted to scream and run away, but with no strength left, she was at the mercy of Emanuele.

He brushed his thumb against Isabella’s lip and held it there for a long time.

It was this mouth like a red rose that always said something that made him angry. But at this moment, looking at her sitting in the corner, slightly open mouth, breathing.

But it gave Emanuele an idea.

Trying to get her down on her knees, kneeling between his legs, holding his genitals, a mouth that was born to do that. Like her ass, she was born to be slapped in bed.

Evil thoughts swirled in Emanuele’s mind, and desire beat in his veins.

In fact, he disliked the feeling so much that he didn’t allow himself to lust after a woman who was hating him, which made him feel like he was being played.

So at this moment Emanuele’s desire to kill Isabella was even stronger, or else kill her.

The color of lust had not yet faded from Emanuele’s eyes, and there was more murder in it.

Just then, Isabella, nervous and feeling dry as Emanuele kept touching her lips, stuck out her tongue and licked them.

Who knows? Accidentally licked Emanuele’s finger.

The soft, moist touch on Emanuele’s fingers made Emanuele feel as if he had been struck by lightning, and his muscles straightened.

“Can’t wait for me to fuck you in a place like this? Isabella, you’re such a slut.” Emanuele decided to change his mind. He reached out and pry Isabella’s lips rudely open. His fingers went deep into Isabella’s mouth, one, two, three, and stirred rudely in her mouth, mimicking the act of intercourse.

Isabella had no idea what was going on, and was forced to hold Emanuele’s fingers, which made her feel even more suffocated, not to mention that Emanuele’s fingers continued to dig deeper into her throat.

Isabella struggled, but her strength was only scratching an itch for him.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Isabella looked up at Emanuele, asking for mercy, begging him to leave her alone, but her mouth was blocked and she could not speak.

Looking at Isabella’s wet eyes and the drool dripping from her mouth, Emanuele felt that his genitalia had become as hard as stone, and he wanted to fuck her in this place.