THE MAFIA’S MISTAKEN BRIDE

Xavier’s POV

CHICAGO

For a moment, I didn’t want to believe the stark naked truth in front of me, including her narration about her encounter with Vicenzo.

The truth was right in front of me all along but I pretended not to see them. I had my doubts but my ego blinded me, stopping me from knowing that I am the wrong one here.

Despite everything, I still want real evidence to know that I am wrong. All of these might just be a ploy, who knows? I need real evidence before I can finally admit I am wrong and let her go.

Carefully lifting my head from the two pictures in front of me, I lock my gaze on one of the local restaurant’s cooks.

He seems extremely nervous and clumsy as he darts his eyes away.

This was the restaurant where we found her. I should have known that Andre, that spoiled brat would never settle for less, not working in a local place like this just to throw me off the rail. I should have known. Maybe I know but I decided to ignore my instincts. I guess I should blame that on Andre’s unpredictable behavior. I can barely say what she can do or what can come out of her mouth the next minute even though I always claim to say that I know her like the lines in my palms.

Glancing down at the two pictures, I see a huge difference.

They are both beautiful.

Sexy.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

With the same face but different personalities.

Different eyes color.

Different hair color.

And finally, I see the last thing.

They are both curvy.

Jasmine is petite in figure but Andre isn’t.

Anger shoots through my veins at the realization.

Why didn’t I see all of this that night? Why was I so bent on getting her back to even take note of any difference?

I should have known the very moment I saw that strange hair behind Jasmine’s fake wig. I should have known when she cowered under my intense gaze. I should have known when she didn’t try to run away again.

I was too blinded by my rage and desire for revenge. Now, I have a strange woman in my home. Trapped with me forever because of my mistakes.

I drop the two pictures with a sigh and signal to Mathew to bring the cook to my table.

Vicenzo would have been the perfect person to ask about Jasmine but he is on the run and I have my men on his trail. He won’t get away with what he did to her.

He knows what I am capable of yet he tried to hurt my woman. I am going to teach him a lesson he will never forget.

The extreme peak of my curiosity brought me back to Chicago. I want no more doubts left by the time I get back to New York by midnight.

I knew I already figured it out last night after the party and I took her home. I was examining her features and I knew she wasn’t Andre at that instant.

I knew it but something else kept denying that fact until she told me she knew who Vicenzo was.

That story irked the shit out of me for no reason. I wished she never said a word about knowing him.

Knowing him meant she isn’t Andre.

I watch Mathew go close to the trembling cook and whisper something into his eyes. His eyes go wide all of a sudden as he settles them on me.

My dark angry look must have him behaving like that.

This is the second time I am coming here so I’m sure he doesn’t know me. He must just be wondering who I am or maybe he has it all figured out.

With Mathew behind him, he walks up to me and I signal to him to sit in front of me. The restaurant is closed already. I asked him to close up and I intend to pay him for the time we spend here before leaving.

“Do you know any Jasmine Cooper?” I demand from him as soon as he is seated.

He looks up with his brows raised. Slowly, he nods and I watch his Adam’s apple gulp down his spit.

“Who is she? Where is she? Where does she live? I want to know everything about her”, I lean back in my seat, watching him curiously. I don’t mind visiting where she stays if that will be enough to clear every percentage of doubts left in me.

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen her in a while. She stopped coming to work”, he responds, avoiding my gaze and shivering underneath my gaze.

I nod at that.

She is with me. In my house. As my wife.

I haven’t seen her since I left home this morning.

“Where does she stay?”

He hesitates for a moment before answering. “I don’t know where she stays.”

“So she went missing and none of you could find her? How can you not know where your worker stays?!” my voice is raised at this point.

What if it wasn’t me who had her kidnapped? What if it was someone else? What if Vicenzo had found her before I did? Is this how they would have handled the whole situation? Nonchalant about someone who was obviously missing?

As he adjusts in his seat, he wears a look of fear and I have a feeling he knows something. He is hiding something.

“Did she skip work before she disappeared?” I demand from him and he jerks up immediately, surprised at my choice of words.

“Disappeared?” he asks back but I ignore him. After a moment of silence, he gulps down again and replies. “Jasmine is punctual. She doesn’t skip work at all.”

“How long has she been working here?” I can not resist asking more questions as everything unfolds in my head. The more he answers my questions, the more my doubts are cleared.

Now, I guess this is all that is left. If his answer aligns with her narration from earlier this morning, then it means a lot is going to change between us onward.

I have to let her go. I can’t continue keeping a strange woman in my home. Not when I know the whole truth now.

“If I am not mistaken, a year and a half or more. I started working here a year and a half and I met her here”, he responds, trying hard not to look intimidated now.

All my questions are answered but I feel something is left out. What else do I need to know about her for me to let her go? Why is it hard thinking of letting her go?

“Do you know Vicenzo?” I find myself asking out of the blue.

Confusion consumes his expression as he shakes his head vigorously.

I begin to nod when something else clicks in my head. “Do you know any Andre then? Andre Moore?”

Why am I even asking that? Andre would never come here. I doubt if she even knew Jasmine existed at all.

“No, I don’t”, he says, staring at me, blinking severally, his fear back in full force. Before I can try to figure out what must be on his mind, he asks me. “Do you know Jasmine? Why do you say she is missing?”

I stand up abruptly, making him shoot to his feet as well. I don’t intend to answer that question.

I need to find Andre. She should be made to pay for her sins, not someone else.

Andre would never come here even if she knew Jasmine existed.

Why do they even look alike in the first place when they are not related by blood? If Andre knew about Jasmine, would she come back home?

As I drop a bunch of cash in front of him, watching his eyes grow wide once more, I twirl around immediately and walk to the door when it strikes me.

Mrs Moore hasn’t come to the house to see her daughter since the wedding. That is unlike her. If it was Andre, I’m sure she would have visited to catch up with her daughter.

Mr. Moore on the other hand, clearly told me she isn’t his daughter and he hasn’t visited either.

Does it mean Mrs. Moore knew Jasmine isn’t Andre too but she decided to hide that fact? Does it mean Mrs Moore wanted me to marry Jasmine just to get her daughter off the hook?

Apparently, this was the plan. I was a fool.

Andre will be found, no matter where she is hiding and Jasmine will be free from me.

I just hope I will be able to let go now that Vicenzo is involved.