Reborn as the Mafia's Bride

#Chapter 4: You Want It Believable? "You stole my first kiss. Why not steal my last name next?" Enzo's teasing tone hung in the air. Taken aback by his question, Brielle blinked several times. "Huh? Are you stupid or just high on drugs?" she shot back, her brows furrowing in disbelief. At that moment, Enzo's trusted assistant, Franco, appeared. He felt his heart freeze at the audacity of this woman calling his boss stupid. *She called him stupid and is still breathing?* Andrew thought, pinching himself to ensure it wasn't a dream. Ouch. It was all too real. This woman had truly called his boss stupid and was still standing. Andrew glanced at the arm that Enzo was holding. *This girl...* "Marry me," Enzo said, amusement dancing in his eyes. He had never been interested in a girl since... "No," Brielle replied coldly, her gaze unwavering. She had just escaped from a wedding; why would she even consider marrying another stranger? What for? It was time for her to leave. Brielle pulled her arm back harshly and glared at him, genuine confusion etched on her face. No one had ever held her hand for so long and not faced dire consequences. Why wasn't she disgusted with his touch? It took a while for her to get over James's touch, but with this man, it felt almost... safe? This was crazy. "The last thing I need is boy drama," she muttered, shaking her head. "Thank you for your service," Brielle added, turning to leave. Franco dashed to Enzo's side, who was still watching the girl leave in awe. Clearing his throat, he tried to get Enzo's attention, but Enzo remained fixed on the fleeing figure. "She has escaped. We can't find her," Franco reported, swallowing hard. The V-neckline of his shirt was covered in sweat from running after the girl. "What?" Enzo's brow furrowed. He shut his eyes in annoyance, feeling his jaw tick. "The girl was shivering like she had pneumonia before the wedding, but now she suddenly has the strength to run away?" "You shouldn't be surprised, boss. Only the mention of your name sends shivers down the spine of the president of the country," Franco reminded him, his chest swelling with pride. Being feared was a necessity in their line of work. "I need a bride if I want to put an end to my father's power." His voice thundered, the words echoing off the walls as he unleashed his fury. "I know, boss." "I need a bride now. Find my nephew and give him the assignment." The frustration and anger in Enzo's voice were evident. "You mean James Ricci? Didn't he break into your warehouse last week with that assassin, Bloody? Are you willing to trust him?" "Trust?" Enzo lit his cigarette, a smirk forming on his lips. He clenched his fists, the knuckles white with tension, as he struggled to contain his temper. "I don't trust my own mother; why would I waste it on him? If he could betray his girlfriend, why wouldn't he do the same? James is trying hard to get a promotion. This will be good news for him." James? Although she was at the end of the hall, Brielle overheard their conversation, her heightened hearing kicking in. She pinned her hair behind her ear to ease the tension. *James Ricci was her ex-boyfriend-the one who had killed her.* *So this is your uncle?* Brielle thought, her eyes drifting back to the man. *You must be adopted because you don't look anything like him. Poor thing.* James was a lower grade in looks, especially compared to his uncle. It was hard to believe they were related at all. *And he's looking for a bride?* A smile crept onto her face, the corners of her mouth curling upward like a sunrise breaking over the horizon. She glanced down at her wedding dress, with sleeves stripped and half the bottom cut. It ended knee-length but was still beautiful-perfect for some badass pictures. In the next moment, Brielle found her legs moving toward the man, each step elegant as if convincing him to accept her as his bride. "I accept," she said solemnly. "Accept what?" Franco frowned, confused. However, Brielle maintained her calm composure, arms crossed. "I will marry you." Enzo raised an eyebrow at her bold confession. A strange emotion flickered in her eyes. "Do you know who I am, little girl?" *Little girl?* She was not a child. Someone with her experiences couldn't be categorized as such. "No," she answered boldly. "Neither do you know me." Enzo let out a dark laugh at her response. "I am Brielle Smith, daughter of Sylvia and George Smith. I am twenty years old, enrolled at Lancaster University majoring in fashion. My favorite color is pink, and I love pizza," she rambled, reciting information as if it were a memory. Pink? Enzo examined the girl, incredulous. It sounded unbelievable. Rather than answering further questions, he continued, "I am Enzo Ricci, thirty-three years old. I work in the paper-making industry and don't have a favorite color. I hate pizza." "Practically soulmates," she joked, a smirk playing on her lips. *Paper-making industry?* Franco almost laughed out loud when he heard this. What was his boss up to? Watching this rollercoaster, Andrew pulled his boss aside and whispered, "You're going to marry this lady? She does not seem ordinary, and she might be a spy." "I guess we'll find out," Enzo replied, a sly smile creeping onto his lips. While Brielle eavesdropped, her shoulders relaxed when she heard what he said. "Let's get married," Enzo declared. Upon arriving at the Bureau of Civil Service and Affairs, the man in charge jumped to his feet upon seeing Enzo. He wore a black suit, barely holding it together over his potbelly. As expected, there was another girl with him. This girl was the prettiest of them all; there was something about her eyes that gave him the shivers. She looked innocent, but he could tell she was trouble. Unlike the other girls, she wasn't screaming, crying, or looking nervous. This girl was, in fact, too composed. It frightened Franco a lot. "Mr. Ricci," he called, eager to start kissing up, knowing everyone-even the country's president-was scared of this man. "I'm back, Larry," Enzo answered, spreading his arms. He was determined to get married. "I can see that," Larry replied, his voice shaky, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Are you ready to be a husband?" Andrew raised an eyebrow, realizing they were only here to get married; Enzo had no interest in any relationship. Upon realizing he had overstepped, Larry's face fell. He regained his composure and led them inside. "Look at the camera, and could you move closer?" the cameraman at the Bureau of Civil Service and Affairs asked. As if on cue, Enzo and Brielle glanced at the cameraman, causing him to stumble back. Larry rushed to help him up. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing his employee's panicked face. "They look like they're going to murder each other, not like they're in love." "Shut up!" Larry warned. However, the cameraman was a bit bold. He asked, "Could you actually smile?" Brielle massaged her face, attempting to smile. It felt like something was climbing up her face, and the smile looked very unnatural. "Sir, you have to smile to make this marriage more believable." "Don't bother; my husband has a facial disorder; he can't smile," Brielle replied in a sickly sweet voice. Enzo frowned at her. "You want believable?" He leaned down and kissed her. It was unexpected; Brielle raised her hand to his chest to stop him, but he held it against his chest. The photographer took the photo of them. It came out beautifully, and everyone could tell they were in love. This was the most intimate photo he had taken for a marriage certificate photo. Rather inappropriate. Still, this was Enzo Ricci, the most feared man in the country. The photographer could not dare to ask for another photo if he wanted to live. Brielle was left breathing hard after the kiss. She pointed her index finger at him. "Don't you dare kiss me again, or I will slit your throat and watch the blood drop on your designer suit!" Stunned by her threat, Enzo touched her lower lip with his finger, desire intensifying in him. He laughed darkly, "Oh honey, you are made for me."