Prologue

I burst into the wedding I’m not supposed to be at with my hands still cuffed tight. I sprint halfway up the aisle, look the groom dead in the eye, and blurt out the truth behind this entire nightmare: “I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”The groom doesn’t speak.For one endless moment, no one does.And, honestly, I can’t blame them. I can only imagine what this must look like. What I must look like. Between getting kidnapped, escaping by the skin of my teeth, hailing a cab in the thick of Manhattan traffic, and stalking the man in front of me on all social media platforms until I could figure out who and where the hell he was, I didn’t exactly get a chance to look in the mirror.My hair must be a mess. Nothing like the braided work of art sitting on the bride’s tilted head.The rest of me isn’t much better. Instead of a delicate gold ring around my finger, I’m sporting a gleaming pair of handcuffs. I’ve sweated through every piece of clothing currently touching my skin and then some. My v

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

APRILNINE MONTHS EARLIER“Third Chance Tailor Shop, how can I help you?”Holding the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I sweep through the racks. It’s taking me forever to tidy up the approximately one million items of clothing Mrs. Kurt left lying around during her fitting. She must have found them interesting—because she took great care to pull each one off its hanger—and then not so interesting— because she took way less care in leaving them heaped in ragged piles in every corner of the shop.You can always tell when a customer’s an artist. A con artist, in Mrs. Kurt’s case, but an artist nonetheless. Being twice widowed and thrice married at the age of twenty-eight is nothing short of impressive, especially when your husbands are old enough to recognize your grandfather from the trenches.“We absolutely do make custom wedding gowns,” I say to the customer on the phone. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”Trick question: brides-to-be always do. As the customer launches in

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

“Just formal, then,” I settle on, knuckles whitening behind my back. Then I dive into the racks.Clothes are my kingdom. When my hands are buried in fabrics, I am in my element. I pick out three vintage jackets that look roughly the customer’s size, eyeballing the measurements of his broad shoulders, and lay them on the table.But there’s one in particular that I want him to pick; one that I just know would go stunningly with those blue eyes, his black hair, his fair skin. He may be an asshole, but he isn’t a bad-looking one. With that thought, I put my pick third.Most customers will be drawn to the option in the middle. Put a cheap jacket first, a wildly expensive one third, and the costly but fairly-priced vintage one in the middle. Whenever I want to find an old-timey piece a good home, that’s how I do it. Most of the time, it works like a charm.Sometimes, however, a customer will walk in and just smell like money. While we were talking—correction: while he was insulting me and I

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

I won’t be that tailor. I won’t ogle my customers, no matter how handsome or ripped or—“So?”Right, the rest. “The jacket’s a unique piece,” I explain with a gulp. “We can have matching trousers and waistcoat made on a custom order. The jacket’s our very own Mr. Turner’s work, so the integration will be seamless.” It’s easy to lose myself in work. If nothing else, it’s a welcome distraction from the man’s gaze. “We’ll take the rest of your measurements and schedule a fitting to make sure everything’s the perfect size.”“Hm,” the man says.And, for a while, that’s all he says.It strikes me suddenly how alone we are. The building is hushed like only quiet tailor shops can be. The windows are far on the other side of the room. There’d be no one here to watch if I knelt down from the stepstool and…“Well then?” he demands eventually, making me blink in confusion.“Pardon me?”He doesn’t even try to hide the eye roll. Asshole. “Aren’t you going to measure me?”“Oh, that’s—” I swallow har

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

APRILThat’s when I make my second mistake: ogling.I can’t help it. All my Good Girl™ resolutions crumble into a pathetic heap once my gaze falls over the stranger’s eight-pack. And I do mean eight-pack. Two, four, six, eight. Taut skin over bulging pecs, a sculpted V-cut barely concealed by his unbuttoned pants, and a washboard I could see myself switching careers for.I must be sweating away every drop of self-respect, because suddenly, I’m wondering if this guy’s in the market for a laundry maid. Uniform up for negotiation.Get it together, girl. Get it— “Should I get you a picture?”I snap back to reality. God, can this day get any more embarrassing? “I am so sorry, sir.” Covering my face with both hands, I make a belated attempt at respecting my customer’s privacy.Which would probably go over better if I hadn’t just gotten a full frontal of his happy trail.“That was inexcusable. I wasn’t thinking.”“You were thinking of something, alright.”I grit my teeth. “I promise I wasn’t

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

I gasp. There’s no mistaking the hardness pressing against my thigh, just like there’s no mistaking how badly it’s affecting me. Through my thin satin blouse and lace bra, my nipples are visibly standing to attention.I pray he hasn’t noticed the state of me, but it’s a short-lived hope. I can see him looking, licking his lips like a wolf cornering its prey.“That’s right,” he rumbles, low and dark. “It appears you’ve managed to bring me something to my liking after all. And I never leave something I like on display.”“I’m not for sale,” I say through gritted teeth.“And I’m not offering to pay.” He brings his face even closer to mine. One miscalculation, one little twitch, and our lips would meet. “Are you going to leave what you want on display?”He waits.He waits.I don’t say no.So he takes that for exactly the answer it is: Claim me.I kiss him.That’s my third and final mistake. I surge forward and claim his lips with mine, dragging him the rest of the way down. I use my teeth;

Last Updated : 2026-01-29

All Chapters of Cashmere Cruelty - A Mafia Romance: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

Prologue

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