LOGINđ MATURE CONTENT WARNING! This book contains explicit language, sexual content and adult themes. If it's not your thing, you might want to skip this one. Otherwise; enjoy the ride!đ Gwendolyn thought she had the perfect life, a thriving career as a chef and a boyfriend she adored. But when he shatters her heart on their anniversary, she drowns her sorrows in a night of reckless abandon at a gay bar. One steamy encounter with Armando Denaro changes everything.  She never expected to see him again until he showed up with a shocking revelation. Armando isnât just any man; heâs the ruthless Mafia Don, and their one-night stand has put a target on her back. To keep her safe, he offers her only one choice: a contract marriage.  Thrown into a world of power, danger, and deadly secrets, Gwen must decide if she can trust the man who holds her fate in his hands. But as passion ignites between them, she uncovers a chilling truthâtheir pasts are tangled in ways neither of them ever imagined.  Now, love isnât just dangerous. Itâs lethal!
View MoreChapter 30: Mint and PlanningGwenWe spent the next week going through Lorenzo's documents. Marco coordinated with our tech people to verify everything, cross-reference information, build a complete picture of Anthony Ricci and his operations. What we found was both comprehensive and terrifying.Anthony wasn't just some low-level operative. He'd been groomed from childhood to take over his grandfather's operations. Money laundering, corruption, political connections that ran deep. And for the past year, since Santoro's death, he'd been planning something big. Something that involved me and Armando and Restaurant Agnes."He wants to hit the restaurant," Marco explained, spreading out surveillance photos on Armando's desk. "During a Friday night service. Maximum casualties, maximum impact. He's hired mercenaries, ex-military types who don't care about codes or honor."My stomach dropped. "When?""Based on communications we've intercepted, sometime in the next two weeks. He's still fina
Chapter 29: Black Pepper and old enemiesGwenSix weeks after the shooting, I was in the restaurant kitchen grinding black peppercorns for a steak au poivre when Marco appeared. I'd gotten used to his visits by now, the way he'd show up without announcement, always with news or updates. But something about his expression made my hands still on the pepper grinder."What's wrong?" I asked, setting the grinder down."Nothing's wrong. Actually, we might have a lead. On something important." He glanced around the kitchen. "Is this a good time to talk?""Dinner service doesn't start for another hour. Talk.""We found Lorenzo. He's in Sicily, working with the old families there. And he wants to meet." Marco pulled out his phone, showing me a message. "Says he has information. About your parents. About what really happened the night they died."My heart started pounding. "What kind of information?""He claims Camila didn't act alone. That there was someone else involved, someone who's still a
Chapter 28: Chicken soup and HealingGwenTwo weeks after the shooting, they finally discharged Armando. Dr. Chen gave us a list of restrictions longer than my arm: no heavy lifting, no strenuous activity, physical therapy three times a week, follow-up appointments, medications, warning signs to watch for. I listened carefully and wrote everything down while Armando looked increasingly frustrated."I'm not an invalid," he muttered as a nurse wheeled him to the car in a wheelchair. Hospital policy, she'd explained cheerfully, ignoring his protests."You're a man who got shot in the chest two weeks ago. Accept the wheelchair with grace." I helped him into the car carefully, mindful of his still-tender wound. The drive home was quiet, both of us processing the transition from hospital to real life.Rosa had transformed one of the ground-floor guest rooms exactly as promised. Hospital bed, monitors, a chair that reclined fully, everything we might need. But Armando took one look at it and
Chapter 27: Carbonara and RecoveryGwenA week later, they moved Armando to a private room on a regular floor. It was progress, even though he chafed at the continued hospitalization. I'd finally agreed to go home occasionally to shower and change clothes, but I still spent most of every day at his bedside."You're going to get bedsores if you don't move," I teased, helping him shift position for the hundredth time that day."I hate this. Being stuck in bed. Being weak. Having nurses come in every two hours to check my vitals." He grimaced as the movement pulled at his still-healing wound. "I want to go home.""Two more weeks, the doctor said. Then you can go home and be miserable there instead." I sat on the edge of the bed carefully. "Though Rosa is already preparing. She's turned one of the guest rooms into a recovery suite. Hospital bed, monitors, everything you might need.""So I'll be stuck in a different bed. Great.""Stop complaining. You're alive. That's what matters." I kiss
Chapter 21: Cinnamon rolls and coffee dateGwenSix months into our marriage, I was kneading dough for cinnamon rolls when my phone rang. The dough was sticky and warm under my hands, mixed with butter and sugar and that perfect amount of cinnamon that made the whole kitchen smell like Christmas mo
Chapter 14: Forbidden Fruit and kissesGwenWe didn't go to meet Lorenzo that night. At the last minute, Armando's second-in-command called with news that changed everything: Lorenzo's hostages had been rescued by a rival faction that wanted to see the brothers destroy each other. The immediate cr
Chapter 10: Fruity Dinner and the DevilsGwenThe engagement ring felt foreign on my finger, a constant reminder of the surreal choice I'd made. Three days had passed since I'd agreed to marry Armando Denaro, and in that time, I'd learned more about his world than I ever wanted to know. The mansion
Chapter 9: Watermelon and weightsGwenI didn't sleep that night. How could I? The contract sat on the nightstand in the guest room where I'd been relocated after my dramatic kitchen meltdown, its crisp white pages mocking me with every glance. Twenty-four hours. That's all I had to decide whether












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