Wedded to my Sister's Mafia Groom

Chapter TwoMatteo POVSomething was wrong with my bride.I had known it since the start of the ceremony.It was not a feeling — I didn't deal in feelings, I dealt with facts — and right now the facts didn't quite line up.But I was almost certain she was not my bride.It was in small things, the way she held her bouquet too tightly, knuckles white against the white roses. The fraction of a second's delay before she turned when the priest addressed her by name.Her frame was smaller, not enough that it couldn't be explained away, but like I had said, it was the small things.I was a man who was good at reading people. I had spent the better part of my early twenties learning to spot a liar, reading the body language of people who were pretending.So I was sure I was good at it. And while my bride hadn't spoken a word to me beyond the ceremonial ones, which on its own wasn't unusual — Isabella DeLuca had made clear during our engagement negotiations that she had no interest in performi

Chapter FourMatteo POVShe had grit. I'd give her that.Most people, when cornered, either fell into one of two categories — hysteria or submission.Alessia DeLuca had done neither.She had sat on that bed with my hand wrapped around her throat as she glared straight at me.She wasn't going to beg me either.I turned to face the door, my mind running over the thousand details from the story this DeLuca sister had spun.I didn't trust her. That hadn't changed.But I could respect what she'd done, even while I turned it over in my head, looking for the weak link in all the plotting.She was right about the war.That was the part I couldn't argue away, no matter how many angles I approached it from. I had spent what felt like an hour standing at the dresser after she finished speaking.I tried thinking of how exactly I could escape this. If I sent her away, then I would be disrespecting the Mafia king who had set up this alliance.An alliance that had been three years in the making. It

Chapter SixAlessia"Who asked you?"His fingers were going to leave marks. I could already feel the deep ache of a bruise forming beneath the skin of my stinging cheeks. I blinked looking up at him directly, the way I had taught myself over the years after I realized that looking away only ever made it worse. "Isabella was dead, Papa." I muttered, thinly fisting my fingers in my dress. "The wedding was in four hours. What exactly would you have had me do?""Come to me." His grip tightened on my hand. "You come to me. You do not make decisions that affect this family without my knowledge, without my —""There wasn't time." I huffed "You do not interrupt me."I pressed my tongue against the inside of my split lip and said nothing.He was not finished. He was never finished — my father was the kind of man who had been for so long that a slight move of defiance required extended punishment to correct. He released my wrist only to begin pacing, which was somehow worse. Vittorio

Chapter Eight AlessiaThe door clicked shut behind Matteo and the room went quiet.I remained seated exactly where he had left me, a hand pressed flat against my stomach, trying to calm myself.I did what had always worked for me and I took inventory.My wrists were — bruised, tender, would need a long sleeve for the next four days, the split lip and swelling, nothing that wouldn't close on its own. My pride — well that was the only thing intact, and the only one that mattered.I was fine.I just had to close my eyes and move on.I rose to my feet and moved to the window, looking at the gates that marked my husband's home and estate.Husband.I couldn't believe it in the best of days but having him standing up for me was even more unbelievable.Matteo Ricci was my husband.The man who had wrapped his hand around my throat four days ago and the man who had just stood in this room, blocking me from my father's reach without moving an inch — those were the same person.I filed the thou