All Chapters of The Mafia King's Accidental Fiancée: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

"Serena, open this door. I swear to God, I will break it down."I flinched at the sound of my own voice. It echoed off the bathroom walls, sharp and desperate and nothing like the woman I used to be. My hands were shaking. My chest was heaving. The red dress I had chosen for tonight felt like a noose around my throat."Sloane! People are waiting. Devon is asking where you are."Devon. His name hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the marble sink and stared at my reflection. The woman looking back at me had wild eyes and trembling lips. She looked broken. She looked like she had been crying for hours.She had."Sloane, I am not playing games. Open the door."I closed my eyes. For a moment, I was back in our apartment. Our bed. The silk sheets tangled around our bodies. His lips on my neck. His whispered promises.You are the only woman I will ever love, Sloane. You are my forever.The bathroom door rattled again. I opened my eyes. The reflection in the mirror was still th

I did not sleep that night.The room Damien had shown me to was beautiful. Silk sheets. Marble floors. A window that looked out over the estate gardens. But it felt like a prison cell. Every shadow seemed to move. Every creak of the old house made my heart race.I sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing my red dress, my phone clutched in my hand. The ring on my finger felt heavier than it should. I kept touching it, turning it, trying to convince myself it was real.I was married.To a stranger.A man who knew my father. A man whose name had made the blood drain from Richard Cross's face.What have I done?I unlocked my phone. Three missed calls from Natalie. Twelve text messages. The last one just said: CALL ME OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE.I called her.She answered on the first ring. "Sloane. What the hell happened? I saw you walk into that ballroom with a man and then my mother dragged me out because she said there was going to be a scene and then I heard—""Natalie. Slow down.""S

I woke to the smell of coffee and the weight of a ring on my finger.For a moment, I forgot. For one blessed second, I was just Sloane Cross, a woman waking up in a strange bed after a long night. Then I opened my eyes and saw the silk curtains, the marble floors, the golden ceiling. And I remembered everything.The wedding. The stranger. The lie that became true.I sat up slowly. My red dress was crumpled and uncomfortable. My hair was a disaster. My makeup had smeared across my cheek. I looked like a woman who had been crying. I had been crying. I just did not remember when.On the nightstand, there was a tray. Coffee. Fruit. A single white rose in a crystal vase. And a card.Come to the study when you are ready. We have much to discuss.No signature. He did not need one. His handwriting was sharp and elegant, just like him.I drank the coffee. I did not eat. My stomach was twisted into knots. I found a bathroom attached to the bedroom and washed my face. I tried to fix my hair. I l

"Isabella is not easy to impress," Rowan said as the car pulled into the underground garage of an exclusive club. "Do not let her see you sweat.""I never sweat," I said.He looked at me. That small, dangerous smile again. "You are sweating right now."I wiped my palms on the black dress. He was right. I hated that he was right.The club was called Onyx. The name was carved into the wall in letters that looked like they had been burned there. Two men in dark suits opened the doors before we reached them. They did not look at my face. They looked at Rowan's.Inside, the music was low and heavy. Red light bled across the floor. Women in silk dresses clung to men in expensive suits. Everyone was beautiful. Everyone was dangerous.And then Rowan walked in with his hand on the small of my back, and the room went silent.Not a single chair scraped. Not a single glass clinked. Every head turned. Every eye followed. The women looked at me with open jealousy. The men looked at me with somethin

“Someone was in my room,” I said. My voice did not sound like mine. “Someone stood over my bed.”Rowan was already out of it, pulling on his trousers, his movements controlled and terrifying. He picked up the phone.“Damien. Sweep the east wing. Now.”He turned back to me. I was still sitting in the sheets, the photograph face down beside me.“Get dressed,” he said. “You are not sleeping here tonight.”“Where am I sleeping?”“My room. Where I can see you.”I should have argued. Instead, I pulled the sheet up to my chest and looked at the photo again. Me, in my red dress, smiling at the ballroom. Before my father burned. Someone had followed me there. Someone had followed me here.“It could be my mother,” I whispered. “She was at the wedding.”“Your mother does not leave threats under pillows.”“Then who?”“That is what I am going to find out.”Damien found nothing. No fingerprints, no forced entry, no trace. The guard outside my door had seen no one. That was worse. It meant whoever h