Her Cruel One-Sided Love – Arranged Marriage Read Online Marian Tee

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He wants my sister...but his family wants me as his bride . The whole world knows that powerful billionaire mafia boss Massimo Marchetti is dating my perfect younger sister Ynez. But what nobody knows is that I met him first ...and we both wanted each other then. My terrifyingly cruel and irresistibly gorgeous husband clearly hates me. But I don't care. I'll do everything except give up on us without a fight. I want Massimo to believe in me despite all of Ynez's lies. I want my husband to realize we're meant to be. I want my mafia boss to choose me over my sister...but he doesn't. This is a fast-paced, instalove standalone romance. HEA guaranteed.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Part One

One

Ysabel

Something wicked this way comes may be a thing outside the Shining City Upon a Hill, but here in Boston, it's the other way around, and as soon as the sun begins to set on the 30st of October, it's us who are eagerly and quickly heading down Comm Ave for the wickedest - and coolest - place to be.

For almost the entirety of the year, the Marchetti Mansion looms over our city like an untouchable and invincible deity in granite and limestone. It's the only property around here that's large enough to have its driveway and private grounds, and boisterous cheers erupt from the crowd as soon as its towering gates of steel slowly part open.

"Halloween, here we come, a-woo!" Julio's loud howl draws a series of laughs, and ever the limelight-loving extrovert, my cousin shamelessly relishes the attention and lets out another howl that has guys at the back howling in return.

The way everyone's acting, it's as if a new tailgating season has started, and it's the same level of excitement you'd expect when the Red Sox seems poised to win the World Series. But this time, instead of baseball caps and jerseys, most of us are wearing dark gray Boston Says Boo shirts and matching face masks (all we had to do was click 'yes' on an Eventbrite link, and we get both free of charge).

Halloween is that one time of the year the Marchetti Mansion graciously opens its doors to the public, and even though where we're standing is at least a mile away, what I can see of the sprawling multi-storied home still makes a frighteningly impressive sight.

I've always imagined the place as Hogwarts that's been magically transported to the Conjuring universe; it even has gargoyle sentinels perched on its domed shoulders, and it's the kind that looks terrifyingly capable of snarling into life and flying down at any moment.

Then again, maybe that's just my subconscious thinking.

Growing up, I've always known that our city has famiglia secretly ruling over it for years and years, and the knowledge has made me feel I'm being monitored and protected all at the same time.

Toe the line if you know what's good for you—-or a gargoyle in suit will snatch you out of bed, and no one's ever gonna hear from you again.

That's what famiglia occupying the seat of power mainly comes down to. It's like tough, old-school parenting on a grand scale, but you won't get any complaints from me, since it's also why our crime rate has been at its lowest in modern times.

Well-hidden speakers start playing Blue Oyster Cult's Don't Fear the Reaper, and Julio once again gets everyone going as he starts dancing and waving his arms in the air even when we're still in line. Destiny Child's Say My Name plays next, and a smile quirks over my lips.

Well, well, well.

Color me freaking impressed—-since only another horror buff would have come up with this kind of playlist. The first song was from the Halloween movie franchise. This second song is from Candyman, and...whoa.

I mentally bow down in worship when Joan Jett and the Blackhearts croon out Season of the Witch as the line finally starts moving.

Well freaking played, unseen DJ.

The only witch in our midst is obviously none other than our very own Khaleesi, albeit thrice her age but minus the madness, and instead of 'queen', we refer to her as La Strega with equal amounts of fear, fondness, and respect. The words translate to 'the witch' in Italian, and the Marchetti matriarch is indeed the baddest witch this city has seen and will ever see.

"PARTY TIME!"

The words, yelled out by a sunglass-wearing driver of a convertible, takes me away from my thoughts, and I absently watch the guy's red-hot Camaro slow down to let security inspect his car with metal detectors and bomb-sniffing dogs.

Guests who aren't from around here may think this is overkill, but this is famiglia territory, after all, and so security here has always been White-House-levels tight.

'Evening, ma'am,' I overhear security address the other passenger. 'Mind if you open the glove compartment for inspection?'

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