I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the dress my father had insisted on choosing for me. In all my twenty years, I had never worn anything like it. I was almost certain that my childhood clothes were more modest than this dress.

"Angela looks like a prostitute," Alessia muttered, still leaning against the wall.

My mother sighed, looking at me with disapproval, but she had contributed to this circus, overdoing my makeup in a sensual and provocative way. My eyes were painted with dark shadow, and my lips were marked with bold lipstick, drawing more attention than I ever had.

"Your sister is a Mancini; she'd never be mistaken for a prostitute," my mother said, giving me one last look.

I highly doubted that, dressed like this, I wouldn't be mistaken for a prostitute. After all, my father had made me wear this tight, low-cut dress to show Filippo what he'd gain from the marriage.

I was disgusted by it all, disgusted with myself for letting myself be handed over like this, so compliant, without fighting or resisting, just letting myself be displayed like one of the women who stripped at the nightclub I knew my father and his men frequented.

The only difference between them and me was that I was being forced to do this, would receive nothing in return, and could only do it for my husband-a man I didn't even choose.

The red dress hugged my hips and waist, ending high on my thighs, leaving my legs exposed. The top had a deep neckline that revealed much of my breasts, forcing me to go without a bra, with only the dress's built-in cups supporting them.

My hair was let down in waves, cascading to the floor. I wished I could wear something more modest.

"You look like a woman," Enrico murmured, staring at me with confusion, and that alone could make me smile in this situation.

"I am a woman, Rico. What did you think I was?"

"No, you were my friend. Now you look like a boring grown-up woman."

I laughed, smoothing the fabric again, wishing it would somehow stretch to cover my thighs, at least down to my knees, but that wasn't going to happen. Tonight was my exhibition, and if my father wanted, I'd be wearing a damn bikini.

"Trust me, boring is the last thing the men downstairs will think of our little sister," Alessia said, finally stepping closer and appearing beside me in the mirror's reflection.

"This isn't for the other men. None of them would dare look at her with ulterior motives!" my mother interjected. "This is for Filippo. Your sister is just showing that she's a woman-beautiful, sensual, and confident, proving she's perfect to be the wife of a future capo."

I was sure Filippo would like it. My cousin had texted me about my future husband's promiscuous life-a bastard who went out with more women than was respectable. The man was no good, but what could I do? Even my father acted like that, keeping a long line of mistresses despite being married for so many years and having so many children.

"Here," my mother said, handing me a pair of high-heeled sandals. Without arguing, I slipped my feet into them, with Alessia helping me tie them around my ankles.

Mom forced a fake smile and looked at me as if she approved of what stood before her, when we both knew that wasn't true.

"Mom..." I said hesitantly, but she stepped back, heading to the door and opening it.

"Let's go. It's time. We can't keep them waiting any longer," she said. I moved out of the room, followed by my siblings as she led the way. "I'll enter through the side with your siblings. You need to appear alone. Your father will formally introduce you to Filippo, and then you'll have a few minutes alone with him."

"What?" I asked, stunned, because they hadn't told me that part.

How wonderful-dressing me up like a slut and throwing me into a room alone with a man who was supposed to approve me as his new acquisition. I couldn't even imagine what he might do to me.

"Calm down. You won't be alone for long. We'll be waiting for you in the dining room," she said, placing her hands over mine in solidarity with my trembling. "He'll probably kiss you. Don't pull away, daughter. He's your fiancé from the moment your father introduces you."

"Mom, I've never kissed anyone in my life!"

"He'll like that. He'll be happier to be your first! Just please him, let him do everything, and when you feel ready, respond." I opened my mouth in shock, unable to believe this conversation was actually happening. "Remember what's at stake tonight. Don't challenge him and risk ruining the deal. Things could get very ugly."

For a moment, I wanted to grab her hand and beg her to stay with me, to not leave me alone with that man, but instead, I sighed and lifted my face, pretending to be tough.

"Good luck!" Alessia shouted as Mom dragged her down the hallway toward the living room.

I stood there in front of the door, my heart nearly leaping out of my throat, thinking of a thousand and one ways this night could go wrong, how this marriage might not happen, and especially how many different ways Filippo could kiss me and be crude.

Men's laughter echoed from behind the door-my father and my future husband, in a room full of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country, and I was supposed to walk in. A lamb alone among wolves.

Without thinking further, I grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door. Even before stepping inside, I could feel the eyes on me. Without looking at anyone in particular, I walked a few steps, my movements faltering, until my father appeared in front of me.

The conversation had died down; the laughter stopped. Everyone just stared at me. He took my hand without a word and led me further into the room. As we passed the crowd, I saw my mother talking in a corner with other mafia wives.

When my father's steps slowed, I turned my eyes forward and came face-to-face with Filippo. His piercing gaze left me frozen. He scanned every curve of my body in a lascivious way, as if undressing me, then set down his whiskey glass before approaching.

I quickly scanned the faces of the gathered men, all staring at me as if they'd never seen me before-and maybe they hadn't, not dressed like this.

"This is my Angela!" my father announced, as if everyone didn't already know, and placed a hand on my back, gently pushing me forward.

My father studied Filippo's face, looking for approval, as if expecting him to fall to his knees in admiration. But seeing the raw, filthy desire on that jerk's face made my stomach churn.

I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole. I had never been subjected to so much attention. The way Filippo looked at me sent shivers down my spine.

"You didn't exaggerate when you said little Angela had grown into a beautiful woman," Filippo said, licking his lips and stepping closer, taking my hand and planting a kiss on it.

I couldn't believe my father had said those things about me to him, offering me up like an expensive piece of meat he was buying.

This was about the war. He should be happy about uniting and gaining a better chance against the Bratva, but apparently, they only cared about me.

"Why don't we leave the future bride and groom alone for a few minutes?" my father announced with a smile, and my heart raced.

I looked around for any objection or comment, but everyone began leaving the room, including my father, who smiled triumphantly. Alessia and Enrico were the last to leave, pulled along by my mother, and then the door closed behind them, nearly making me jump.

"Good to finally be alone with you, little bride," Filippo said, circling me, assessing me. "I've been dreaming about this all week."

His hand slid over my backside, and I jumped, stepping away from him, shocked by his boldness, knowing everyone was in the next room. Filippo curled his lips into a sickening smile and took a step forward, closing the distance. He grabbed my waist, holding me tightly against him before lowering his face toward mine.

His lips touched mine, and the smell of alcohol invaded my nostrils, making me gag. Before I could process his body so close, his mouth, his scent, his tongue forced itself against my lips, making me even more nauseated.

"What's wrong? Open your mouth, little bride!"

"I... I've never kissed before," I mumbled, embarrassed, hoping that would make him go slower.

"That's going to be fun, but don't worry, I'll teach you everything I like in bed and train you to please me." He brought a hand to my chin, gripping it tightly before rubbing two fingers over my lips. "Open your damn mouth." He forced two fingers inside, making me part my lips, and shoved them in. "You'll be perfect for swallowing my cock."

Disgust overwhelmed me, but I remembered what my mother said-I couldn't do anything that might start another war tonight. So he leaned in again, replacing his fingers with his repulsive tongue.

I stood there, waiting for it to end, but Filippo had other ideas. His hand on my waist grabbed my backside, and I protested, trying to pull away as his fingers dug into my flesh. His other hand slid over my chest, tracing the neckline of my dress, and fear gripped me about what he might do next.

I shook myself free and pushed my hands against his chest, shoving him away until I broke free from his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, stepping back further.

Before I could get far enough, Filippo grabbed my hand and yanked me back against his chest with force.

"I'm touching what's going to be mine!" he growled, sliding his hand over my body again, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. "I want to see you try to escape me like this when we're married. You'll be mine, and I'll do whatever I want with you."

That only made me more nervous. Then he let me go, shoving me carelessly, and reached inside his suit jacket. For a ridiculous second, I thought he might pull out a gun.

But instead, he took out a small black velvet box and opened it with a bored expression while I watched his movements. He pulled out a solitaire ring with a large diamond-an engagement ring.

Filippo grabbed my hand and forced the ring onto my finger, pushing harder when it felt tight, not caring about the pressure. For a moment, I thought he might break my finger.

"Thank you," I felt obliged to say, even forcing myself to look at him, though the same couldn't be said for his eyes. They looked furious.

"Proof that you'll soon be mine. I just have to wait until the end of the month!" he said, extending his arm. I forced myself to take it and let him lead us out of there.

I should've been relieved that we'd be surrounded by other people, and he wouldn't be able to touch me inappropriately. But how long could I delay this? As the bastard himself said, I only had until the end of the month before I'd be declared his, losing any right to my own will.

My father led me down the church aisle, with hundreds of guests divided on both sides staring at me-Cosa Nostra on one side, 'Ndrangheta on the other. Their watchful gazes were fixed on me: some with pity, others with greed, and some I couldn't decipher. But they were all there, witnessing the virgin in white being handed over to her next owner by her own father.

I looked toward the end of the aisle, where Filippo stood. Tall and strong, with a sickening smile on his lips, waiting for me as if it were the happiest moment of his life.

Perhaps it was for him, but for me, it would be my end.

My father tugged at me, and my legs seemed to move at their own pace while my body trembled with nerves. Red rose petals covered my path, softening the way toward a harsh and sorrowful future.

I knew how horrible Filippo was and that he would never respect me. I would be nothing more than a piece of meat, a body for him to bury himself in, a vessel to carry his children.

My father's grip tightened around my fingers, and I knew I should lift my face and look at my future husband, but I wanted to flee from him for the last few seconds I had left.

The walk felt like an eternity, yet it ended far too quickly. I wished I would never reach the end of the aisle. My father stopped in front of the altar, lifted the corners of my veil, and handed my hand to Filippo.

"Hey, little bride," he said. I forced a smile, not because I liked when he called me that, but out of obligation.

After he cornered me in a room at our engagement party and forced his tongue into my mouth, all my disdain for him turned into a mix of disgust and dread. I knew that tonight, he would force himself on me without caring about my feelings, simply because I was his property.

"You'll see how you'll try to escape me once we're married. You'll be mine, and I'll do whatever I want with you," he had said when I tried to dodge his revolting lips.

The priest, dressed in a white robe, greeted us and the guests before beginning his opening prayer.

I tried to breathe deeply and stay steady, even though the tight corset cut off my air, making it hard to breathe. The only thing keeping me focused was his hand gripping mine, rubbing suggestively just to unsettle me.

When the priest finally reached the end of the Gospel reading, my legs were even weaker, while the man beside me kept that smile on his lips.

"Filippo and Angela, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"-NO, I wanted to scream. "Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife until death do you part?"

But before we could answer, synchronized footsteps, like combat boots hitting the church floor, echoed through the space. All the men drew their weapons, except Filippo, who kept holding my hand, seeming overly confident.

Perhaps he was right to think it wasn't an attack-after all, the guards outside the church hadn't said anything, and no sounds came from outside.

But before anyone appeared at the door, the sound of metal hitting the floor rang out in the silent church.

"Grenade!" someone shouted, and the crowd erupted, running, screaming, and bumping into each other.

Filippo looked around like a confused roach, desperate for cover, gripping my hand so tightly I thought he'd break my bones. Then something exploded around us, the sound so loud it assaulted our ears. He turned, running and shoving me. I couldn't balance in my heels and fell to the ground, my knees hitting the hard, cold stone.

The chaos around me left me disoriented. The pain in my knees made me want to cry, while my ears still rang painfully. My head spun, and all my senses were in disarray.

I brought my hands to my ears, trying to muffle the sound or at least think clearly, while people ran around me, pushing, trampling, and hurting me without care.

"Mom! Dad!" I screamed, trying to find someone.

There was no fire around, just white smoke making it impossible to locate anything. I couldn't find my parents or siblings, and even our security seemed nowhere near.

When I thought I'd be left there, forgotten, to be trampled or killed by our invaders, large, firm hands wrapped around my body, lifting me and cradling me in strong arms.

I couldn't see through the smoke and chaos, but I let myself be carried by the man who held me with skill and protectiveness, taking me out of that hellish place straight to the safety of a car.

I breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed, and the car sped off. With luck, I might have gained a few more days without a husband. I could only hope there weren't too many injuries and that my family was safe.

I hadn't even realized I was sitting on my unknown savior's lap, but one glance to the side told me something was wrong. None of the men in the car belonged to my father-I had never seen them before.

"Who are you?" I asked, already pushing against the man holding me, wanting to free myself from his grip and get off his lap, even if there was nowhere else to sit.

My hands came back wet, and when I looked down, I saw they were red. The man holding me had his white shirt stained with blood, as did the men beside him, but none of them looked at me.

"Good morning, angel. Sorry for ruining your wedding like this, but it was the only way to make your father see reason," the deep, commanding voice of my savior sent shivers down my spine. I frowned, confused, still trying to pull away from him and keep those hands off me, but he just shook his head in refusal. "Marco Falcone."

His intense brown eyes, framed by thick eyebrows, locked onto mine, sending a wave of heat through my body. I wasn't used to being stared at so boldly-men always averted their eyes when they knew who I was.

Then his name clicked in my mind. I had heard it somewhere before...

"Falcone? The boss of the..."

"Camorra!" he finished my sentence, to my utter shock, flashing a beautiful yet terrifying smile.

But all I could think was that I was dead. This was my end, I realized, staring into those hypnotic irises and coming to terms with who was in front of me.

"The Demon of the Camorra."

The man who had pulled me out of the church, carried me in his arms, and still held me close, sitting on his lap, was him-the most feared man of all, who had built his monstrous reputation since he was a boy and took pride in it.

The boss of the Camorra and one of my father's enemies. What did he want with me? Taking me from the church after attacking us in the middle of the wedding, covered in blood, only told me his plan was terrible.

"None other than me, angel. And it's a pleasure to finally meet you, my future wife!"

Angela looked at me, terrified, her hands outstretched in front of her, trying to keep some distance between our bodies, even though just a second ago, she had been nestled against me, so relaxed after being saved that I could feel every curve of her body.

It wasn't hard to find the woman in white collapsed on the floor, being trampled by everyone around her. One minute before we stormed in, she was their salvation from war or total ruin. Angela was there to marry for the *Famiglia*, and they showed how much that meant to them: nothing!

Even that bastard of a groom couldn't protect her. Filippo pushed her to the ground before running for his life, and I saw it all clearly.

"What do you want? What are you going to do with me?" she asked frantically, her voice almost breathless as she glanced at my brother Nero and Frank in the seat beside me. "I'm sure my father will pay any price to have me back unharmed. Please, don't hurt me!"

Her sweet, brown eyes turned back to me, and I wanted to smile at the irony of her words.

"As far as I know, it was your people trampling you in that church. We were the good guys-we saved you!" I said, raising an eyebrow, earning a look of outrage from her.

"Everything was fine until you threw bombs in there and attacked everyone!" she shot back, showing that maybe she wasn't just the little princess everyone thought she was.

"Sure, you were just being handed over in marriage to a scumbag who's already slept with half the city," Nero grumbled beside me, sounding bored with the topic. But when I saw her horrified expression, I elbowed him to rein it in. "What? I'm just telling the truth. As his bride, she shouldn't be so surprised by the jerk. Just last night, he was at his father's brothel screwing whores until two in the morning."

Angela gasped in shock, staring at my brother with her mouth agape, which finally seemed to shut the idiot up. He might be right about Filippo-he was no good, not even by mafia standards. But I doubted Angela was used to such crude language. Knowing about sex was probably unlikely for someone like her.

Before I could say anything, she recovered, lifting her chin defiantly.

"As if you're all pure saints! You're all the same! You all think women are property, puppets you can manipulate and do whatever you want with!" she shouted with all her fury, and I was certain those words had been bottled up inside her for a long time.

Silence fell over the car. We all sat there, stunned, staring at her, while my mind raced with thoughts of what she must have suffered at her father's hands, what Angela had seen, and worse, what Filippo might have done to her.

"I wish my wife thought like that," Frank was the first to speak, breaking the ice and making us laugh.

"My sister will never think like that. She may be a Rossi now, but she's got Falcone blood in her veins!" Nero said, and I had to agree. Melissa had always been the most stubborn of the three of us. No wonder she got married before either of us.

"God help me when our daughter is born. I hope she doesn't have her mother's temper!" he said, raising his hands to the sky.

Angela stared at the two of them, seeming overly interested in the conversation, almost as if she couldn't believe their words. Then she shook her head in disbelief and let out a sarcastic laugh, growing louder by the second until it caught everyone's attention.

"We value our women, *Angel*," I said. She narrowed her eyes, challenging me. "We may be ruthless with our enemies and traitors, merciless and tough with our men, but our women are sacred. We don't force them into anything, and that's why they marry willingly and always choose men who will honor the Camorra. Very different from the husband chosen for you."

"What do you know about Filippo? You know nothing about him or how my father treats women or the *Famiglia*!"

"I know a lot more than you, *Angel*..."

"Don't call me that!" she growled, clenching her teeth and furrowing her brow.

"Your father has more mistresses than a brothel owner! And Filippo is just as rotten as him!" I shouted, tired of trying to stay calm while she refused to see the obvious. "Neither of them is any good. None of the men in your *Famiglia* properly care for their women or value what they do for them! Otherwise, they wouldn't have left you on the floor getting hurt. They would've protected you first and thought of their own lives later. They would've died protecting you, who was saving them from a war and bringing them more allies!"

She stared at me with wide eyes, seemingly shocked by everything I said. Even Frank and Nero stayed silent, seeing that my patience had run out.

"You think you're better than them, but you just kidnapped me... and you're already saying I'm your future wife," she replied, her voice faltering, almost as if she were afraid of me-the same fear I saw in her eyes when she realized who I was.

"Yes, you're my future wife, but because I'm certain you'll want to marry me when you see what your life can become."

"And I'm certain you'll abuse me like you did the other women who fled the Cosa Nostra," she said so quietly I almost couldn't hear her. Nero and Frank leaned closer to listen better.

"What?" Yes, I knew about the women who fled, and they were all sheltered and placed in safety wherever they wanted in exchange for information. "What are you talking about?"

"You... you raped and tortured them... until they gave you all the information you wanted... and then you killed them without mercy," her chin trembled, and she looked at the two men beside me with terror, while I was still stunned, processing what she had said. "That's what you're going to do to me, isn't it?"

The car stopped, and Angela looked outside, seeming even more terrified. I was so focused on our argument that I didn't notice when we entered the estate. As soon as my driver got out and opened the door, the woman leaped off my lap and ran.

"Sir, I'm sorry, should I go after her?" he asked as we watched her run down the gravel path, clutching her wedding dress haphazardly.

"No, I'll go after her myself."

"Looks like I won't be the only one with a fiery woman," I heard Frank say as I started running after the crazy woman.

She wouldn't get far, not in those heels, and even if she weren't wearing them, there were still the gates and the guards. I had no idea what Angela thought she'd achieve by running like that. Did she really believe she could escape?

I was almost catching up to her when the complicated creature turned around, coming face-to-face with me, just an arm's length away. The little angel tripped on the lace of her dress and was about to fall when I grabbed her by the waist, spinning her body with mine, making me hit the gravel with my back to keep her from getting hurt.

Her body landed on top of mine, my arms tightly wrapped around her waist, holding her there. Her surprised gaze met mine, and even with her hair falling around her face, I could see her flushed cheeks from the run, her lips slightly parted with uneven breaths.

Damn, she was beautiful, and now she looked like an aroused little angel, ready to be fucked. Shit, I couldn't think about that now, not before I'd married her and could rub it in her father's face.

"Ready to stop acting crazy and talk like a normal person?"