Substitute Bride: Taming The Masked Mafia Don

o P

imsy in my hand. The room was decorated in cloying pastels, a saccharine pr

pulled out a satellite phone. It was heavy, solid,

rom memory. It connec

voice was cris

million dollars is coming your way tomorrow

ions about where the money came from. Just c

I laid out the steps, the firewalls, the shell corporations. "And Edd

his tone. "Boss, the Don of the Valachi family... th

f, my voice sharp, "ar

tossed the phone onto

ette

yer. My voice oozed smug confi

esent, in person, to claim it. And she has to verify she's alive eve

ust laughed. "Just do it. She won't live past tomorrow. T

ristine bank card myself. My smile was a grotesque pa

scanning the dense legal jargo

handed him the folder and the card. Their eyes met for a

irk playing on my lips

buzzed. A text

lance of your trust

pure rage. I jabbed at my phone, screaming at my lawyer, at my bank

ed. Utterly a

one against the wall, where it shat

, my face a blotchy red, as Cleo walked down the grand staircase. She

e stairs, her eyes finding min

nk

ed and walked

ien

state. The shadows clung to me like a second skin. Kyle O'Neil, my

nings has been replaced by her older sister, Cleo Long. She was

n my finger. The silver mask covering h

as jealous and schemed to take the marriage for her

nd the mask-not quite a laugh. She must be y

onstantine is still a p

e through the mask's opening fixing on

l plan. After the ceremon

s,

with the shadows and the rain. I watched the droplets trace paths

e to. She was a Jennings. And like all pawns, she woul