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“I'm so sorry, Leo,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. Tears of guilt and self-blame streamed down my cheeks as I stood before him, eyes cast downward. Despite the fact that I was his prisoner and he was my warden, I couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to him. I told him, “It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you go-” “Damn it, Alessandra. I don't want your apology,” Leonardo snapped, lifting my chin with a firm finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice was hard as steel as he continued, “I want you to write a fucking essay about how much you think about me. How you crave my touch. I want to hear you say you love me, because I swear it in this life, mia principessa, there won't be anyone else but me.” ----------------------------------------------------- When Alessandra Scavelli is forced into marrying Leonardo De Castello, her childhood sweetheart turned feared mafia kingpin, her world is thrown into chaos. Leonardo, still madly in love with her, sees this as a chance to reclaim their lost romance. Alessandra, however, is torn by a secret mission handed to her by her family: infiltrate Leonardo's syndicate and bring it down from within. As she delves into Leonardo's dangerous world, Alessandra finds herself conflicted between her family’s demands and the undeniable pull of her own heart. The once clear lines between loyalty and love blur, and she must navigate a treacherous path where betrayal lurks at every corner. Will Alessandra follow through with her family's plan, or will she surrender to the passion that threatens to consume her?

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,

Everyone said I was Domenico Calvetti's most obedient woman. On our first wedding anniversary, he flirted with a pair of twins at the gambling table. He had lipstick smeared all over his shirt. I smiled and wiped it away with a silk handkerchief, but he swatted my hand aside. "Don't kill the mood." In the third year, the star performer from the club he ran showed up at my door with a gun pressed to my temple, demanding to take my place. Without flinching, I disarmed her using the technique he taught me and disposed of the body myself. Behind me, he held his new lover and laughed softly. "Lucia, you always know what to do." In the fifth year, he blew up the library my father left behind just to make his new flame, Marilena Rossetti, smile. That library was my mother's favorite spot when she was alive, and it held the only photographs of our family of three. The explosion made me the laughingstock of the city. People whispered, "Signora Calvetti can't even protect her own memories." Everyone believed I could never leave the Calvetti family or Domenico, but they forgot how this all started. Back then, he rescued me from my adoptive father and fell in love with me at first sight. He knelt and begged to marry me, swearing he would protect me from blood and pain for the rest of my life. For ten years, I held onto those empty words. At our tenth anniversary party, his hundredth mistress arrived. Alice Russo, fresh out of college, held a glass of red wine and poured it down my gown while Domenico watched. "Signora Calvetti, this dress is so old. Given your position, you should be wearing something better." Everyone at the party waited to see my humiliation. Instead, I lowered my eyes and dialed Domenico's father's number. "Father, the ten-year agreement is over. I won't be Signora Calvetti anymore."

"I will do whatever you ask." I said, my voice steady even as my heart pounded like it was ready to fly out of my chest. "But I won't be a second Isabella. Not for you, and not for anyone else." Matteo's eyes darkened. "You are already her replacement. I think that counts as a second Isabella." *** Valentina Russo never expected her to take such a turn. When her sister, Isabella, flees from an arranged marriage to the ruthless Mafia Don, Matteo Nevarro, Valentina is forced by her mother to take her place. Trapped in a world of betrayal, deceit, and power, Valentina must find a way to survive and find her sister while also trying not to fall in love with her husband.

My ex-husband is getting married. and.... I’m the one hired to plan the wedding. My name is Arabella Paloma Garcia. Five years ago, I was arranged to marry an Italian heir with an angel’s face and the personality of something between a blizzard and a natural disaster: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. We spent one year of marriage arguing hard enough to make a lawyer retire early. Then his ex came back, and I left with a divorce bracelet on my finger… and a pair of babies in my belly. Now I live in San Francisco. I own a wedding planning company, I’m a single mom to two demon twins, and I’m very, very proud of the fact that the name Ricciardi doesn’t appear anywhere in my life. Until one email lands in my inbox: Ricciardi–Marino Wedding. Groom: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. Bride: Alessandra Marino… the woman who once became the reason I got kicked out of his life. I should’ve said no. But Alessandra is infuriating, and I want to prove I’m over Rafael. So I take the job. But he walks in with a cold stare that sends my stomach straight to the floor. No recognition. A helicopter crash two years ago wiped six years of his life. Including me. Including our marriage. Perfect. I’ll plan my ex-husband’s wedding, send him down the aisle, and go back to my life. The plan goes smoothly. Right up until the wedding day. The bride disappears. The guests are waiting. The media is already rolling. And Rafael closes the bridal suite door… drops a bomb that earns him my fist in his face: “You’re the one who going to walk down the aisle with me.”

I took a drugged drink for Moretti, the Don I had loved for seven years. He helped Bella, my frightened sister, to her feet first. "Bella is fragile. I'll get her to the car." "Iris, wait here. I'll come back for you soon." My stomach burned like fire, but my fingers were turning cold. I stood there frozen for a long moment before a bitter laugh slipped out. It was the ninety-ninth time he had chosen Bella. In college, I once waited for him in the library with a fever, expecting him to take me home. Then Bella called and said her panic attack was back, so he told me to wait. Years later, I entered the Valtieri family and became his underboss. I balanced his books, negotiated his deals, took bullets for him. He still believed I would always wait. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay clear-headed while I handled another round of probing from the rival family. At one in the morning, Moretti still had not come back. Bella's post appeared first. In the photo, Moretti was making her a late-night meal. That was when I understood. This time, too, he would not come back for me. And I no longer wanted to wait. I opened my phone and bought a ticket to Sicily three days later. Moretti, goodbye.