A Deal With The Italian Mafia

ne banging on my door like the

ll came crashing back. The kidnapping. The fake wedding I had proposed. The man who mig

lace, heels clicking against the floor like gunshots. Behind her came a literal army-sty

scanning me with a mix of horror and purpose.

r. "And... who

al stylist, event coordinator, miracle worker-a

eep from my eyes, "but I don't think even your magic can turn me into

me, sweetie. I've

nked the blankets off me and start

now," I grumbled, clutchin

ey ign

n a spa day, I was towel-wrapped and dumped into a chair in front of a mass

champagne and glitter and more to

, blending, pinning. I sat like a statue, wondering

uggesting this," I muttered. "N

y face. "You're marrying the most powerful man in the countr

orgot that my kidnapper

ed. Vivienne's death glare

g form. "Poor girl. At least she's

I was going to snap, not that I haven't been doing that since, Vivienne

oman staring back at me,

rifyingly effortless way. The dress was stunning-layers of ivory lace, a cathedral-length train, and

t like a sacr

veil, "what's the verdict? Bl

all smirk. "Depend

of a snarky comeback,

ammed over

hift in the air-the way it thickene

inside, and eve

ers trembling as she let go of my train. "My job here is done," she said qu

and her army scattered,

one with him,

ut I felt his gaze. It was like being under

he said

en obeyed. The gown swept a

ld still. He reached out, and for a terrifying second, I thought he'd hit m

he edge of my veil, fi

ast, voice cold and unreadable. "

aid quietly. "As long

ngers

ls," he murmured.

elf to meet his gaze. After a beat, h

tarts in one h

lked out, the door cl

. One hour. That was all the time I had left before I became Emilia Ale

ame. It was a cage

and say "I do" to a man who might s

ow was that I had no intent

voice when he spoke of that night-my father was still

etraying the man I