Prologue - Viola

Hey everyone! I've read some stories here and decided to share something that's been on my mind for a while.

I apologize for any mistakes and hope everything remains clear to my readers since English isn't my first language.

Read the trigger warnings carefully!

Enjoy!

TRIGGER WARNING

This book is a dark mafia romance with a reverse harem and heavy themes that may trigger some readers. The male leads disregard conventional morals, and their relationship with the female protagonist is toxic and intense.

This book includes detailed depictions of:

1. Forced arranged marriage and restrictions on freedom

2. DubCon and erotic degradation

3. Graphic violence, mafia torture, murder.

4. Psychological pressure, manipulation, and isolation.

5. Rough sex & sharing

If you're looking for a traditional love story with sweet, gentle characters, this book is NOT for you. Please read at your own risk.

My trembling fingers gathered the beautiful, perfectly white dress around me, reflecting every trace of my innocence.

I hadn't closed my eyes for even a second the night before. Panic over the event paralyzed me, gripping my throat and stealing my breath. Don Giovanni Fabiano would walk in any moment to escort me to the altar. Beautiful hairpins glistened in my hair, and my veil trailed four meters behind me. I could hear the chatter and festivities downstairs, but I couldn't even get my legs to the window for a glimpse outside.

My face looked paler than my dress. Fainting wouldn't help. I had to accept my fate. In less than an hour, I'd become a wife, bound to someone else's life. Actually... that might've been great if it was just one person's life. But I wasn't ordinary, and I wasn't going to become an ordinary woman.

The corset squeezed me in all the right places, accentuating my waist. I looked thinner than I was, and even the slimmest Barbie would envy those curves. The corset served as the only thing keeping me upright. It broke me, and the laces at the back pulled my breasts so tightly they threatened to spill out.

"Viola." His voice came before the knock. "It's time."

His cold tone didn't surprise me, but it still made my heart pound harder against the prison of my ribs.

Yesterday, I turned eighteen. Today, I was already in a wedding gown, and downstairs, my four husbands-to-be were waiting.

The contract would be signed in front of many witnesses, followed by an extravagant feast, from which one would eventually drag me away, as by morning, the girl was expected to become a woman. I didn't even know them. I knew their names, but not their faces.

The Moro family took over Naples years ago. Their fathers weren't blood brothers, but they raised their sons together. Inseparable, they earned the nickname The Cousins and chose a neutral surname, carrying it proudly. Or so I had heard; I had never met them face to face until tonight.

Don Fabiano struck a deal with them: a contract for a working relationship. I was the bargaining chip - a hostage for the assets, business, and survival of the Fabiano family.

I stumbled toward the older man. He squeezed my delicate wrist with his rough hand. His face twisted into a terrifying grimace, and for a moment, I thought he was about to hit me.

"Pull yourself together, you pathetic brat!" he practically spat in my face.

He yanked me sharply, and I lost my balance. My leg buckled, and I crumpled at his feet.

"Get up!"

My eyes filled with tears, but I swallowed them back to avoid ruining my makeup. I didn't want to know the punishment for that. I pressed my lips together and let him haul me to my feet. A throbbing pain exploded through my ankle. The high-heeled sandals looked beautiful, but not made for rushing, running, or being dragged around.

His fingers tightened around my wrist like cuffs. The wrinkles on his face deepened.

"Is this what I spent my life raising you for? You ungrateful wretch!"

I flinched, bracing for the slap that should've come, but something stopped him because the blow never hit. He breathed heavily, like an enraged bull ready to crush everything or simply unbuckle his belt.

Nothing surprises me anymore.

"I'm sorry, Don Fabiano."

"I was gonna remind you of your place, but I don't have time for that."

My perfect appearance shouldn't ruin either, I reminded myself.

Life in the Fabiano estate felt like a nightmare. He could lose his temper any second, deciding I'd done something to displease him and unleashing his hatred onto me. But it was all I'd ever known, and as cruel as it was, it gave me a sense of security.

In less than an hour, I'd leave everything behind and start a new life with four men whom every son and nephew of Don Fabiano feared. Even if he wouldn't admit it, I could sense he was scared of them too.

I heard stories about the Moro cousins.

Ruthless killers and abusers. They stopped at nothing. A few years ago, they stormed the Gallo family home. Don Giovanni wasn't on good terms with them and clashed on several occasions. A struggle for territory, as it was called at some official events. But the Moros ensured the Gallo family was no longer a competitor because they no longer existed.

"Viola!"

Paola was Don Fabiano's fourth wife. She hurried over and quickly arranged my dress to fall right after my fall had left it disheveled. Only a few years older than me, she had been his wife for three summers. I knew she worried about angering him, just like I did. We couldn't afford anything less than a flawless bride.

"Be more careful! We haven't started dinner yet."

Yeah, I was already limping.

I swallowed the pain in my ankle and wrist and stepped toward the stairs, trying to control my trembling.

The music started as we passed through the back doors into the garden of the lavish estate. Decorators had adorned everything with flowers, arches, and lights. White pathways stretched from the top of the stairs, across the grass, and branched off in different directions.

My eyes took in these key locations. Everything would begin beneath that arch. I recognized one man who often visited Don Giovanni's estate with various folders. He had one now, too. Maybe he would witness the contract signing between Moro and Fabiano.

To get there, we had to walk along the paths between the tables, where various guests were celebrating. Some were Don Giovanni's friends, while others were unfamiliar faces.

The music filled the space, and conversations died down. It felt like thousands of eyes were locked onto me.

Don't tremble, Viola. Walk confidently. Don't show pain or despair. That's what monsters feed on.

I kept repeating those words as I descended the broad staircase. Paola held my veil, ensuring I reached the spot for signing, where I would pledge my loyalty to the Moro family.

The path narrowed before me. I felt faint. I stumbled, but Don Fabiano's grip kept me upright. I just had to make it to the end. Then I could lean against the table or...

"Who gives this woman away?" the man with the folder asked.

"I do. Giovanni Fabiano."

"Who takes this woman?"

"I do!"

His voice sounded deep and heavy. The kind you hoped to hear only with a face. With effort, I raised my eyes to him.

His blond hair was shaved on both sides, replaced by intricate designs. Tattoos barely registered. The top was styled messily to make him look younger. Fine lines appeared around his eyes as he narrowed them and sized me up.

"Angelo Moro."

Now the face had a name. In a more beautiful world, untouched by blood and terror, his name might have meant he was an angel. But the man before me looked more like he had fallen from heaven than served God.

"Me."

Another man stepped forward, and everything lost its meaning when he pierced me with his icy blue eyes. They were so pale that, without the dark rings around his irises, they'd have blended into his eyes.

My lips parted as I imagined the warm breath cloud in the cold air radiating from every pore of his body. I shuddered, unable to control it, but he wasn't finished.

He reached out and took my hand - the one Giovanni had gripped mercilessly. His fingers disappeared into his palm, surprisingly warm - a stark contrast to the suffocating cold that seemed to come from him.

"Leonardo Moro."

"And we."

A young man who didn't look much older than me caught my other hand. With a kind smile, he bent down and kissed my knuckles.

"Nicholas and Rocco Moro."

Two?

I hadn't noticed the other man lurking behind my suitor like a shadow. They looked like brothers, with one deeply unsettling difference.

Deep gashes ran across the last man's face. Knife scars or a broken bottle? I didn't want to find out. Honestly, I never wanted to see him again.

And yet, contrary to everything I thought, I couldn't look away from his.

He may have been handsome once, but the man before me was a monster from a fairy tale or horror movie. Deep red lines marred his lips, carved into his cheeks, and crossed one eyelid.

Monstrous.

I tried to step back, but my hands were held, and my twisted ankle throbbed.

"Then, since everyone agrees, please sign this contract," the man with the folder continued.

Everyone?

They asked the man giving me away and the men taking me. The men now repeating their promises to protect me like the apple of their eye, all for peace between the Moro and Fabiano families.

Me.

No one asked me.

I still couldn't take my eyes off my scarred husband, even though he was now just a profile. The red lines ran down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his white shirt. Unlike the other three, he hadn't said a word.

"Viola?"

I jumped at the sound of my name. Five pairs of eyes stared at me.

Not knowing what to say, I bowed my head in a practiced apology.

"Repeat the words so everyone can hear you."

"I..."

"I'll take care of my family."

"I'll take care of my family."

My voice trembled at least four times, but I hoped no one noticed.

"To protect our legacy."

"To protect our legacy."

"To bear strong sons of the Moro family."

Don Fabiano should've been proud of me for not throwing up in front of everyone. I didn't stain my dress, faint, or let my legs move, even as the voice in my head screamed to run.

"To bear strong sons of the Moro family."

"Very well. I declare this contract done. Please sign the document."

When my turn came, I steeled myself and forced myself to be strong. Maybe they'd kill me quickly, end this charade of a fake contract, and return to their war with Don Giovanni. If I was lucky, it would be quick, like a bullet to the head.

"And now, let's celebrate!"

Cheers erupted from every corner of the garden. Sparkling wine and hard liquor flowed into glasses, and I spotted some suspicious substances on a few tables. The music grew louder, and I thought this was my chance to disappear.

No, I wasn't going to run away. That would be pointless. But maybe I needed some time alone, a moment to fall apart before I exploded.

"Will my beautiful bride dance with me?"

I couldn't believe I attracted someone's attention. I would have preferred not to, but here I was, with the handsome one, as I'd nicknamed him, showering me with attention. His warm, chocolate-brown eyes tried to convince me he was harmless, but I had heard all the stories about the Cousins. People compared them to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, all named Death.

"For a moment, we thought old Fabiano might pass off an ugly girl on us, but I'm pleasantly surprised. With you, I gladly do the marital duties of all my brothers, even several times a day."

Maybe he was joking, but that thought made me feel even sicker. I didn't think that was possible. My stomach twisted into a knot.

I was terrified of them handing me over, living with four men under one roof, watching my every step... that I completely forgot the sons I promised to bear minutes ago actually had to be... Someone would have to put them inside me to give birth to them... And the way he--

"You limping? Does your leg hurt?"

I nodded, and I didn't speak.

He laughed, shaking his head.

"You're as talkative as Rico. I'd love to watch you two converse. Come on, sit down. We won't be long. All of us have had a long day."

I had no problem with the delay. I would have happily stayed in the chair he helped me into for another few months. Or until I turned sixty, when I could be sure they wouldn't have the slightest interest in me. Not one of them.

"Tonight, before they come for you, drink this. It'll all be a bad, hazy dream, and if you're lucky, you might not remember anything."

I started. I didn't expect anyone to come so close.

I didn't have any friends or anyone close in Don Fabiano's family. But Paola dared to approach me. She handed me a little purple pill and gestured for me to be quiet, then slipped the packet into my cleavage.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe someone would miss me after all.

She kissed my forehead like a caring sister and smiled as she stepped away.

"Trust me. It's better."

I decided I could trust her. We'd never been close, but she didn't treat me badly either.

"Thank you," I mouthed as my blonde husband drifted away with her.

Angelo stopped in front of me, deadly serious in his black eyes, and told me exactly what I had dreaded since I learned I was being sold.

The first! Wedding! Night!