Match Made in Hell

Chapter Two

Dimitri's Point Of View

Self-righteous. Arrogant. Cold. Misbehaved. Outspoken. What do all of the words above have in common? The different words to describe my future wife, Moya Vitiello but not my words. The words of her family and the Italian mafia but perhaps their traditionalist views on women have blocked their eyesight. They would have called her strong, daring and powerful if she were a man and in my eyes that's what she was.

She ran away from me and this marriage arrangement that was organised from when she was seven. She was stuck in this cruel and ruthless fate of being married to me, despite the seven year age gap between us. Three whole years have passed from when she was eighteen and meant to be handed over to me to marry and made mine. Her family didn't have a hold of her at all; the better phrasing for that is she dissociated from her family and doesn't help that she has plenty of underground connections that help her vanish.

Her renown identity as a professional in doing the most dangerous heists marked her success in the criminal worlds. Everything she does relates back to the missions she completes; she doesn't need to do it but she likes the thrill of it. A woman like that should scare me but I am more than intrigued by her and keeping her close to me is my main aim.

"Boss, we're here. Do you want to wait to do a sweep of the mansion?" Gregor asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts completely. We were already at the Vitiello mansion in Italy; I had finally came back to claim my fiancée, whether she likes it or not. It's about time she returned back to me and finally to Russia.

"No need." I stated while getting out of the car with Gregor, my second in command. A few Russian soldiers of mine broke into the mansion and managed to round up the family that was in the mansion and put them into one room. Gregor had entered with them while I settled into the living room, while slowly the Vitiello family members poured themselves into the rooms. All men. Moya's father, brothers, cousins and uncles were all in the living room with me.

"Is there a reason you've broken into my house? It's like you have a death wish," Moya's uncle Sergei bellowed at me, clearly with his temper catching up to him quickly. Sergei Vitiello was known for his temper and short fuse paired along with his power in the mafia world has led to destructions. Sometime for better while other times for worse; and the worse had led to arrangement like my marriage to Moya to be formed for stronger alliances between us to keep the mafia safe.

"No. What's a death wish is when you can't even keep the promise you made to my family in giving me my wife three years ago," I snared back at him and watched him recoil completely, almost taken back my tone and attitude. I wanted the wife I was promised three years ago and I plan on taking her today. She won't slip out of my hands' reach; not again.

Last time was last year. I saw her and I was so close to have her cornered and take her back to Russia. In Martinez' club in America, I saw her. It may have been dark but I knew it was her. The way her melanin skin radiated her. When her British accent asked the bartender for a scotch on rocks and the way the gold on her fingers, ears and neck radiated on her skin, I knew it was her. The moment we made eye contact on the 21st January last year only gave me confirmation. She was in my reach but for the split second I turned around to leave, she was gone. I looked everywhere and even forced Martinez to look into the CCTV. Moya was so close to me and yet managed to escape.

Of course, I was infuriated with her escaping from me but I was more amused and interested in her. I grew more fond of her, the more I learnt about her. She was talented although she had to put up with the multiple other men in the mafia and their traditionalist views. If the really opened their eyes, they would realise that she would make a powerful tool and was someone who you didn't want to be on the wrong side of. However they would always be thick in the head not to appreciate a woman like her; a powerful goddess like her.

Sergei's eye retreated with both anger and fear swelling up, perhaps questioning how I left Russia to collect my indebted wife who had run. He spoke no words and instead Moya's brother Alexander spoke up, " we have no clue where she is". My eyes snapped towards him. His dark brown eyes weren't scared but more daring but the deceit was seeping through them so clearly.

I walked towards him (he was tall but still shorter than my height) and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the wall aggressively.

"Do not lie to me."

He was in my chokehold and struggling to breathe but just like the other Vitiello he had pride and a hell of a lot of it. His breath shortening by every second but my grip around him wasn't getting any looser than it was before. Eventually he gave in as the words 'please' came out of his mouth reluctantly so I let go after ten more seconds. I gave them mercy not because they asked but because they had the one thing I want and always want to have: Moya.

"She has a fashion show so I presume you knew she was in town,: her father, Antonio, finally spoke up. When I didn't respond, he chose to carry on talking, "I can call her number,". He pulled up his phone and dialled her number and offered me the phone. I was inclined to take it and as soon as I did, Gregor took his gun and pointed it at Antonio, in case they tried to make another move completely.

The phone call went through and started but she didn't say a word on her side of the line so I took the chance and said to get to her fathers house before he was dead. In a normal instance, I wouldn't presume that she would come to save her father but I knew that she was aware she couldn't run anymore. I had to got to extreme length to make sure that she couldn't leave Milan even if she tried to. My own men plagued the city watching the motorways, the airports and the streets to make sure she didn't slip out of my grasp any time. She was mine and I was planning on taking her home with me regardless of what anyone has to say.

After I cut the phone call, I looked back to the room where Antonio, Alexander and Sergei were in the room and I sat down on the sofa opposite them. None of them were at ease since they had no idea what could happen next with me being explosive and Moya being unpredictable.

Sergei decided to speak up "we have an alliance, there's no need for any violence" he stated while signalling to both Gregor and Dima, who both had their guns aimed at them, ready to pull the trigger if I were to say the words which I won't deny I was tempted to do.

"An alliance means nothing if I don't get my wife by my side especially after the three years that she was promised to me." That shut him up and they all sat silently for the next few moments. My own phone began to rang so I picked it up, it was my own father.

"How's business going in Italy?" he said gruffly.

"I'm nearly done here; I'll come back to Russia with my wife with no fucking doubt." I responded. After a few minutes of him providing me of updates of what was going in Russia since I left, I ended the phone call and the door clicked open.

My head snapped towards the door's direction and there she stood. Moya fucking Vitiello: the woman I had been chasing for three whole years. The only woman who runs crazy in my head despite making no contact with her: I was unimaginably obsessed with her. She was gorgeous in the photos but god in real life. No one would dare to ever disrespect her because they would have to deal with me. Finally she was in my view and now that she is she will never leave.