The Mafia Protocol

of the white silk dress Riccardo had laid out for her. Not a gown-nothing dramatic

wasn't l

bouquet. No bridesmaids. Just tre

He looked like he was headed to a corporate board meeting, not his own wedding. His

asn't

a bra

nd you're not dragging me

l? Camilla, I own hell. I'm ju

efense. Because beneath her sarcasm was

a church, not re

ckering candlelight, owned by one of Riccardo's many shell companies. No gues

lips, collar pressed with military precision. He opened the bib

ink. Didn't stutte

ou, Camilla Moretti, to be my wife-by o

ds were too smooth. Too practi

her turn, sh

y. Her heart poun

" she

r. Close enough that o

murmured. "Or I'll b

eath c

hate

re than she'd ev

you, Riccardo Falcone, to be my husband...

f anyone objected. No o

ed, "You may now

with a possessive grip, and kissed her-not tenderly, not gent

. But her lips burned lo

e back w

the window. Somewhere in the city, brides

on her finger and

th bowed heads and hushed voices. No one

, Riccardo handed his jacket t

he said dryly. "The house. The

threatened my father to

live, i

r n

sharpened. "Is

e that I'm not as

on-respect, maybe. Or hunger. She w

finally. "For now. I need to make

t phase?"

already w

Camilla co

tried to take it off-only to find it wouldn't budge. L

e exp

dors, and locked doors. Cameras in every corner. No pho

artment. Dozens of shelves, thousands of books, and a

n just to distu

Sicilian Defense," came

ound, heart

way, sleeves rolled up, a

to wake you

. I don't s

er arms. "Bec

"Because o

locked acro

me, Camilla... are you

ened. "Would it

imply. "Because

he thing about kings. Eventuall

etched between them

ing that almost mad

ant to do t

d. "Then w

e I trusted the wrong man once. And it cost me

to you?" she asked

or one brief second, somethi

d. "You're a

rned and w

la returned to her room, s

phone. A br

No rest

e conta

car

it, a

ve. But if you do,

by

lse who knows

screen, pulse thun

rapped in

king she ne

from now on... would be