Wildfire

Wildfire

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    Reads 451
  • WpVote
    Votes 193
  • WpPart
    Parts 9
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 9m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Sep 17, 2024
"I hate you!" Demetria yelled, clenching her fists as she stared at a tense and frozen back. A back she wasn't familiar with. A back she had prayed to see before when she could have sworn she wanted nothing more than to be freed from the persistent pestering beauty that was Ygritte Martel. The daughter of the very man she was trying to expose for covering up the murder of her parents as a mere accident. The girl that had somehow managed to consume her every thought and ignite a passionate fire that she had tried and failed to put out. "I know," came her curt reply as she tried to storm away again. "I hate you for making me feel this way! I hate you for barging into my life with your crude jokes and making me need you only to leave! How dare you! Who do you think you are?!" Not a very romantic confession. In fact, it was the perfect way to start a fight but things had never been peaceful when it came to them. Theirs was a tale of heartbreak, betrayal, societal scrutiny, religion, power play and political games. In a country still stuck in the 19th century like Harlem despite the current times, it's quite easy to see how love between two respectable ladies was a recipe for disaster. But don't worry, it gets worse.
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When my family owes The Don of The Italian Mafia money that they don't have; how do they repay him? The answer, an arranged marriage. With whom? The youngest daughter, of course. Who is the youngest? Me. Isabella Morello. My life wasn't always rainbows and a field of flowers on a sunny day. But, I thought I meant more to my family than this. Who do I have to marry? The net heir of the Italian Mafia. I thought I would find love on my own. I thought I would marry the love of my life. I thought a lot of things by my life isn't a book and this isn't a fairytale. I have to abide by my parents' arrangement; even if it means I lose my heart to the Devil himself. He's arrogant, cruel, heartless, but under his cold exterior there has to be a soul inside, right? Will I have my hert intact or will his coldness shatter it in the process? Will this be a tattered love or a love that could last? Will he ever love me, that's the real question. "ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪ'ᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ; ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ; ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ'ꜱ" -ᴀʟᴇꜱꜱɪᴏ ɢʀᴇᴄᴏ "𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍." -𝙸𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘

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