COLD TRAP

MIRABELLA 

く 

When my eyes open the next morning, I find my husband sitting beside me, his lips stretched out into a grin, his face glowing with happiness while he watches me awe–struck. 

I yawn, stretching my limbs with a deep groan while I push myself up so that my back is resting against the headboard. 

“Good morning, baby.” Matteo says, his smile growing bigger. “I made you breakfast.” 

With a roll of my eyes, I whisper underneath my breath, “of course you did.” 

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, his fingers gently moving wild strands of hair off my face and tucking them into the back of my ear. I shake my head. in disagreement. He shifts closer, his thumb stroking my cheek. The action warms my face with a tint of red. 

I move to look away from him, but he grasps at my chin, keeping my face forward. “When did you start growing so shy, princess, hmm?” He asks, his words drawled. He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on my lips. 

“I’m not shy, just flustered.” I whisper my answer, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. 

Matteo drawls a hum, his lips dragging down my neck, “you don’t say…” His teeth nibble at my skin. 

I hoot with laughter, smacking his chest playfully. “You need to stop, Matteo, we have so many things to take care of today.” 

He grumbles underneath his breath, “I’ll be quick.” 

A scream elicits in my throat when I am swiftly lifted onto his laps. “Matteo!” I laugh, playfully smacking his shoulders. 

“Yes, mama,” he chuckles, “do you want me to stop?” 

My lips pull apart, wanting to provide him an answer when my stomach rumbles. I bare my teeth, snorting a laugh. “There’s your answer, big man.” I kiss him on both cheeks. 

He heaves a breath, “the baby must really be hungry.” 

“And distressed.” I add. “I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me, considering everything you did to me last night.” 

Matteo’s brows raise into a playful arch. “So you remember last night, huh?” 

“I sure do.” I answer on a sultry tone. 

Sighs of satisfaction wracks through both of us at the same time, our lips holding smiles of compassion, gentle love swimming in our orbs. We lean forward and fuse our lips, shaky breaths leaving us. The kiss, although lasting only but a few seconds, is filled with burning passion and love and devotion. 

When our lips part, Matteo whispers, “I love you, Mirabella, with all my heart.” 

“I love you more, amore mio.” I hush, my arms hugging him tighter. “But I’m hungry and we need to go and see my father. I need answers.” 

“Whatever you want, love.” 

When I walk into my father’s holding cell hand in hand with my husband, a 

feeling courses through my spine. 

The old man, although miserable looking, bruises decorating his face, stares me down with a condescending look, his eyes filled with threats. 

“I had a talk with Helen,” I start, trying so hard to keep my voice down, to perhaps give him an opportunity to explain himself. 

My father raises a brow, “so? What has that got to do with me?” 

“I just want to know why you hate me so much you’re working so hard to see that my marriage breaks apart.” I grit through clenched teeth, anger rising to my chest. 

He snorts a laugh, his eyes moving from Matteo to me, “Me?” He points a finger to his chest, shaking his head. “I am the one who’s working hard to break your marriage apart?” His tone sounds incredulous. “I don’t even need to lift a finger in that regard, Mirabella, seeing how husband do a very good job at it.” 

you and your 

Anger seizes my bones, causing my eyes to form into a vicious narrow. “I have given you so many opportunities to come clean, Marcelo, but you’ve chosen your path. I’ll leave you to my husband, I’m sure he has the best ideas for how to take care of you.” 

1/3 

My father’s lips curve into a smirk, his eyes darkening with anger. “So what? You came here, all smiles and giggly to prove a point? To show me that you and your husband still have the hots for each other?” 

HUN 

“That’s exactly what I came here to do. And also to give an opportunity to redeem yourself.” I shake my head in disappointment. “I guess you do not desire to be redeemed.” 

“You must really think you’re special,” he retorts. 

I turn to face him, my eyes squinting into a glare. Matteo’s firm hands massage my shoulders soothingly. “I don’t think it, I know it.” 

N 

“Why?” My father asks with a tut. “Do you think you’re something special because the Godfather of Italy keeps you under his roof and professes love to you? You think you’re anything special because you have his children and warm his bed?” 

“Marcelo…” Matteo growls, charging for him, but I grasp his wrists, pulling him back to my corner. 

way with 

you the 

way they 

“You’re nothing!” He roars a laugh. “Absolutely nothing. If you were anything special, those men wouldn’t have had their did. They wouldn’t have taken turns in fucking you like a dirty fucking whore. They wouldn’t have taken turns in plunging their blades into you while you had their cum dripping from your cunt.” 

A sharp breath leaves me, my skin trembling, pain crawling underneath. Tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill. I don’t let it. 

I’ll not break apart in front of this man anymore. 

But my father sees through my struggle and decides to taunting me. 

“You want me to sit here and talk about your mother and how special she was?” A scoff breezes through his parted lips. “She definitely was no special woman. She was a fucking cheat who brought her lover’s children into my home and made me bear the responsibility of being their father.” Surprise pull my eyes to widen, my heart pounding aggressively against my ribs. 

My father rumbles with a mocking laugh. Matteo’s skin tightens underneath my touch and I hold him tighter, keeping him from losing it on my father. 

“Are you shocked?” My father asks. “You think you and Annabella are my biological children? That’s fucking ridiculous.” 

I thin my lips into a smile, anger evident in my voice when I begin speaking. “You are a mentally unstable man, Marcelo. And as ashamed as I am to admit this, you are my biological father. Look at us, do you not see the resemblance?” 

“Then am I the only man on earth with these features?” He retorts. 

“So you’re saying that my mother had a fetish for men who looked just like you?” A small laughter vibrates in my throat. “You’re evil. You killed your wife and your daughter, but all you can do is sit there and point fingers?” 

“Your sister died of her own choice.” 

“What?” 

“She was better than you, special. I took care of her, trained her to become something,” he tsks. “But that ungrateful bitch let her mind be swayed by something as stupid as regret. That is not on me.” 

“You groomed her!” I yell, my voice raging with anger. “You were sleeping with her! She was carrying your child!” 

“What a shame that child couldn’t make it into this very perfect world.” He comments, seeming reluctant. 

“You’re…you’re unbelievable.” 

“I am,” he agrees, immediately shifting his gaze to Matteo. “Has she told you about the confession her little boyfriend made?” 

Matteo’s brows pull into a furrow, “what confession?” 

My father laughs, “didn’t I tell you that the secrets you both keep from one another will ruin you before any one of your numerous enemies has the opportunity to?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Matteo roars and I bite down my tongue, my heart beating faster. 

“Don’t listen to him, Matteo,” I attempt to plead him into calmness, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. His curiosity has peaked and nothing can be done until he hears the answers he craves. 

So before my father is able to say it, I beat him to it. 

“When you were unconscious, Ares confessed that he was in–love with me. This means nothing, Matteo, okay? It’s in the past, he said he was past those emotions and-” 

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11:04 AM 

“And you’re telling me now? Because your cunt of a father mentioned it?” 

“Don’t you trust me?” I ask, holding his hand. 

“It’s not about trusting you!” He yells angrily, “it’s about you earning my trust and you seem to be failing woefully at it lately.” 

A small gasp escapes from the depth of my throat, a muscle feathering in my jaw. “I apologize.” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, shame clouding my features when my father snickers. 

Regret morphs on Matteo’s face and he steps closer, sorting to hold me. I slap his hand away. 

“Mirabe-” 

“Don’t.” I grit, quick steps leading me out of the holding cell as the tears at the brim of my eyes make their way down my face. 

That man I call my father just needs to go. Permanently. 

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