Pregnant by the Mob Boss {18+}

1

ROSE

I had been standing in the kitchen for hours, kneading the dough in my hand because baking was my therapy, and I badly needed to vent.

Not only was I about to marry in eight hours.

I was about to marry my half-sister's ex-boyfriend.

An ex-boyfriend she loved showing off at every family gathering before they broke up a few weeks ago.

The same ex-boyfriend she used to fuck around me on purpose because my room was next to hers, and I could hear every single thing they did, their moans and groans.

Of all the people, I didn't want to marry him, but I had to.

I didn't want to marry him since he loved my sister. They had to break up because of the arranged marriage between him and me.

But I had to marry him, or else I would lose my trust fund.

The trust fund had over 300 000 dollars, and I wasn't to let that money go to my half-sister.

If I didn't marry her ex-boyfriend, she would get my entire trust fund, even if she already had her own.

She couldn't marry him because she was my half-sister, an illegitimate child born out of wedlock.

I would have felt an ounce of pity for her, but she was loved by everyone, nobody would dare to harm her.

My half sister who hates every inch of my being, and made it known by throwing gallons of horse shit all over me, putting shredded glass in my drink, or fucking my ex-boyfriend in my bed.

I kneaded the dough harder, imagining it was her face.

See? Baking can be very therapeutic.

We didn't know we were half-sisters, until one day, six years ago. Back then I found out my father had cheated on my mother and had a child outside of marriage.

My parents didn't divorce and never would.

It would look bad for them, instead my mother adopted my half-sister as her own.

Six years ago I was happy to have found out that I have a sister because I was always surrounded by my three older brothers.

But even the devil can wear a mask of eternal beauty.

Around me, she's the most horrific creature, but around my family she's a sweetheart, who don't believe she could have poured horse shit all over me, or put shredded glass in my drink.

Now I had to marry her ex-boyfriend because there was an agreement between our powerful families and a score to settle. 

"Oh gosh, why aren't you already wearing your wedding dress?" My aunt gasped by the entrance of the kitchen.

The woman had stormed into my apartment again.

I had changed the locks in the past, but they always find a way to break in, crossing my personal boundaries.

"Your hair, your face... it's a monstrosity!" The overdramatic woman almost shed tears.

My long honey blonde hair and my face were covered in a little bit of flour, nothing to cry about.

"I can wash it off." I rolled my eyes, placing the latch batch of whatever I was baking into the oven and set a timer.

"You better shower, young lady, your look and reaction is bad for us." My aunt, a woman in her mid-forties, scolded me.

Unlike me, she was already properly dressed in a navy tight dress reaching over her knees along with a blazer.

The wedding was seven hours and fifty-five minutes away, what's the hurry?

"How should I react? To jump out of joy, when I got that call, two days ago, in the middle of the night, that I had to marry Marcella's ex-boyfriend?" I argued with my aunt, passing by her.

Marcella Spencer, my most gorgeous and loveliest half-sister, who was the same age as me, twenty two, and had everyone on her knees.

She was the it-girl, the kind girl, and the beautiful girl, with a successful modeling career, featuring on many cover of magazines, due to her blonde hair and crystal blue eyes.  

I was always reminded that I'm nothing compared to her, even if I thought I'm good enough, my family enjoys reminding me who is better.

'You also want to become a model? You can't because you're not your sister.' - my mother.

'Of course your grades are low. You're not smart like your sister.' - my father.

'Your sister slept with your boyfriend? I would to if I was him.' - my ex-best friend.

"Don't think like that. This is an opportunity for you! You will become the wife of a respected and feared man." My aunt could sit all day arguing with me about this topic.

I strode into the living room, while my aunt trailed after me.

The makeup artist was waiting for me, but a horrific expression crossed her at the sight of flour everywhere on me.

"Go and shower! I don't think your future husband would like it if you showed up looking like a ghost!" My aunt pushed me towards the stairs of my apartment that was located in the center of Manhattan.

My aunt wanted me to shower and get ready because in seven hours and fifty-three minutes I will walk down the aisle towards Mr. Knight, and become Mrs. Knight.

But that title belonged to my half-sister, never me.

I was not the one he loved.