The Mafia's Runaway

retti stood at the altar, her hands clutching a bouquet of white roses so tightly that the thorns bit into her palms. The pain was a welcome distraction f

too perfect-his dark hair slicked back, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and his smile as cold as the diamonds adorning her fingers. But B

she was about to lose. She glanced at her father, seated in the front row, his expression unreadable. He had always been a man of few words, but his silence spoke volumes

to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the pries

until she could barely breathe. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

n, her voice tr

drowned out everything else. Sh

pped back, the sound of roses hitting the floor like a g

of her dress and bolted down the aisle, her sneakers slapping against the marble floor. The cath

s, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors. The streets of New York were alive with

with something solid. Strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her, and sh

sence. His dark hair was tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and his eyes-a piercing, icy blue-seemed to

his voice low and accent

l away, but his grip was firm. "Let me

smirk playing on his lips. "A

of shouting echoed from the street.

lanced at Bella, then back at the approaching figures. "You're in t

hed. "Please," she

e. Then, with a sigh, he pulled her deeper into the shadows.

unding. The man stepped forward, his presence radiating menace. "This is So

him. "We're just looking for someone,"

n't reach his eyes. "If she's on m

didn't argue. They turned and left, t

th her. Sokolov caught her, his arms strong and steady.

m, her eyes wide. "

Let's just say I have a weakness for pretty things," he said.

h twisted. "Wh

the first time, Bella felt a flicker of fea