LOGINIn Chicago's underworld, power is currency and loyalty is bought in blood. Jameson Connelly needs a wife to claim his throne. Catarina Vitale needs an escape from her gilded cage. Their arranged marriage should be simple—a business transaction, nothing more. Except nothing about this is simple. To the world, Catarina is the perfect Italian princess: refined, untouchable, ornamental. The truth is far more dangerous. She's been trained since childhood to wield blades with lethal precision, her family's most lethal weapon hidden behind designer dresses and polite smiles. When Jameson discovers her midnight blade work and weapons collection, all bets are off. He's grumpy, commanding, and impossibly sexy—everything she shouldn't want. She's lethal, sarcastic, and hiding secrets that could shatter his world. The attraction between them is instantaneous and absolutely forbidden. But their marriage has painted targets on both families' backs. Rival factions circle like sharks, and assassination attempts multiply as quickly as the stolen glances between newlyweds. When Jameson's uncle emerges as a threat from within, Cat must decide how far she'll go to protect the man she's sworn to resent. And Jameson must choose between the empire he's always wanted and the woman he never expected to need. In a world where trust is weakness and love is a liability, they'll have to forge something stronger than steel to survive. A gritty slow-burn mafia romance featuring grumpy meets curvy, sharp banter, dangerous secrets, and the kind of tension that burns hotter than any fire.
View MoreCATARINAFourteen weeks, and my jeans had officially betrayed me.I stood in front of the mirror, turning sideways, glaring at the small but undeniable curve that hadn't been there a month ago. It wasn't much. Most people probably wouldn't even notice unless they knew to look. But I noticed. I noticed everything about my body now—the way it had quietly started rearranging itself without asking my permission first."You're doing the face again," Jameson said from the doorway, tie half-knotted, watching me with poorly concealed amusement."What face?""The 'I'm about to declare war on my own wardrobe' face.""These jeans used to fit.""Cat. You're pregnant. That's generally how it works.""I know how it works, Jameson. I read the books. I have the app that shows me a fetus the size of a lemon every week. I just didn't expect the lemon to stage a full wardrobe coup this fast."He crossed the room, hands settling on my hips, chin dropping to my shoulder as he met my eyes in the mirror. "F
CATARINAThe cramp hit me at 6:14 in the morning.I know the exact time because I was already awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about paint colors like some kind of domesticated stranger wearing my skin. Then the pain rolled through my abdomen, sharp and low, and every thought about sage green versus butter yellow evaporated instantly.I went still. Assessed.Location: lower abdomen. Intensity: moderate. Duration: ongoing.Old training. Clinical distance. The same part of my brain that once catalogued exit routes and weapon placements now catalogued my own body like a threat report.Then I felt the warmth between my legs, and the training shattered completely.Blood.Not much. Just enough to make my hands shake as I sat up too fast, my heart slamming against my ribs.No. No, no, no.I pressed a hand to my stomach like I could hold every
JAMESONI heard the commotion before I saw it—hammering, footsteps, Rosa's voice carrying down the east hallway like she owned the place."No, no, the crib goes against that wall. Better morning light."Cat froze beside me in the foyer, her hand tightening on my arm."Tell me that's not what I think it is."It absolutely was.We rounded the corner to find Rosa directing two contractors, a decorator with a tablet of paint swatches, and a small mountain of furniture boxes stacked against the wall of what used to be an unused guest wing."Mama." Cat's voice could have cut glass. "What is this?"Rosa turned, beaming, entirely unbothered. "Catarina! Perfect timing. I need your opinion on crib placement.""You need—" Cat pressed her fingers to her temple. "You didn't call. You didn't ask. You just brought a construction crew into our home?""I c
JAMESONShe was still trembling when I finally answered her. "I want the truth. Whatever it is. You don't have to perform strength for me."Cat didn't say anything else that night. She just let me hold her until her breathing evened out, until the tremors stopped, until sleep finally took her under.I didn't sleep at all.By six the next morning, I was in the war room with Declan spreading printouts across the table—rotation schedules, perimeter sensor upgrades, updated personnel assignments. Marco arrived twenty minutes later with three of Carmine's men trailing behind him, all carrying folders thick enough to double as doorstops."The Vitales are offering four additional soldiers for compound security," Marco said, dropping into a chair. "Carmine insists.""Tell him I appreciate it." I studied the rotation chart. "We need coverage on the east wing increased. That's closest to Cat's usual route to the gym.""About that." Declan cleared his throat. "I've drafted a revised protocol for
CATARINAThe reception was a special kind of torture.Four hours of smiling for photographers, cutting a cake I had no intention of eating, and dancing with a man who held me like I was a business asset he'd just acquired. Which, technically, I was.The first dance had been particularly excruciating
CATARINAThe dress was a fucking nightmare.I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my childhood bedroom, staring at the monstrosity of white silk and lace that had taken three people to wrestle me into. The bodice was so tight I could barely breathe, the skirt so voluminous I couldn't see my
CATARINAThe dress hung in my room like a ghost.White silk and lace, layers upon layers of tulle that made it look less like a wedding gown and more like a monument to everything I wasn't. Everything I'd never wanted to be.My mother had chosen well. It was traditional, elegant, suffocating. The k
CATARINAIf there were a hell specifically designed for women like me, it would look exactly like Bella Sposa Bridal Boutique.All white silk and champagne flutes and mirrors that reflected back a version of myself I barely recognized. The air smelled like expensive perfume and desperation, and eve












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