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?"

Sitting in that car surrounded by those men only reminded me of my encounter with Filippo on the night we were officially introduced as fiancés. Even though, for a fleeting moment, I almost forgot all the evil they were capable of, just by hearing them talk about how a supposed woman wasn't completely submissive.

But it was clear that was just a distraction, a way to make me fall easily into the Camorra's clutches. Their badmouthing of my father and Filippo was proof of that-they wanted me to switch sides, but that wasn't going to happen! That's why, when the car door opened, I ran.

Not that I believed my father or his allies were good people. I knew exactly who Giovanni Mancini was-he sold me without a second thought.

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

But I had to remind myself that I was now in front of Marco Falcone, known as the Demon of the Camorra, and not just as a courtesy from his men. Marco had earned his reputation, and my father had told me stories.

Right after the engagement was settled, my father called me to talk and showed me the atrocities they were committing against women seeking refuge from the war between the mafias. He told me that was one of the main reasons for my marriage to Filippo-uniting forces would weaken the Camorra.

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

"Talk or be tortured?" I answered Marco's question with another.

His arms were wrapped around my waist, and he was beneath me. When I tripped, I braced for the impact with the ground, but instead, strong hands grabbed me, preventing me from falling onto the floor and instead landing on his solid body.

This was inappropriate in so many ways I couldn't even begin to explain. Our closeness was wrong, yet I didn't move to push him away or stand up.

"I don't know where you got the idea that I torture women, but I'd be more than happy to show you my skills," he said, sliding a finger across my cheek, brushing a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear, making me swallow hard.

"Your torture skills?" My voice came out as a whisper while his fingers lingered in my hair.

"Yes, if you want to learn, I can teach you all the tricks of torturing someone, from the simplest to the harshest," he said. My eyes drifted from his dark gaze to his full lips. "You could be the She-Devil of the Camorra by my side."

Marco

I had no idea what those words of mine implied, but I was serious. I wanted Angela by my side, becoming the terror of our enemies, especially her father. We'd set the world on fire together if she wanted.

But she pushed herself up, pressing her hands against my chest and standing, stepping away from me instantly. From my position, I could see her long legs-they looked so soft, and I wondered if they were as soft as they seemed.

"Stop being indecent!" she shouted. As soon as she noticed my gaze, she tried to pull the dress back into place, doing her best to cover herself with the torn and crumpled gown.

She had no idea what it meant to be indecent, but I'd love to guide her in discovering the world of debauchery, teaching her every promiscuous and indecent thing.

"I don't think it's wrong to look at my future wife," I said, standing and brushing off the gravel stuck to my body, noting the damage done to my clothes-not that they were in great shape after being stained with the blood of all the guards.

"I'm not going to be your wife! Get that and any idea of us being together out of your head. It's never going to happen!"

"Angel, Angel," I shook my head, stepping closer and touching her face, brushing some dirt off her cheek, but she was quick to slap my hand away.

"Keep your hands off me and stop calling me Angel. My name is Angela Mancini! To you, it's Miss Mancini!" Her firm voice and attitude drew a smile from me. She was the perfect woman for me and didn't even realize it.

I pulled off my suit jacket, tossing it to the ground, then moved to the buttons of my bloodstained shirt, feeling her eyes watching my every move.

"Soon, I'll be calling you the Queen of the Camorra, and you'll love it. You don't understand now, Angel, but you will soon," I said, unbuttoning the last button and looking up at her, only to see she was staring at my bare chest. "Liking what you see?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Angela turned her face away, embarrassed at being caught checking me out.

"It'll all be yours as soon as you say 'yes' in front of the priest, don't worry," I said, irritating her further. "Now, let's go home. I want to clear things up before you keep getting stupid ideas about running from me."

I started walking toward the mansion, not caring if she was following. Angela must have realized by now that she had nowhere to go inside those gates.

And even outside them, if I already wanted to marry her before meeting her, now I wanted her by my side even more. There was something about this small woman that fascinated me-whether it was her strength, her beauty, or her courage, maybe it was the whole damn package.

The fact was, I wouldn't let her escape me. I'd have her one way or another, and if I played my cards right, I was sure I'd soon command not only the Camorra but have the Cosa Nostra at my feet, and her father would pay for toying with me!

I heard her hesitant steps behind me as we reached the house. Her heels clacked unevenly against the wooden floor, and I turned just in time to see her limping behind me. But Angela kept her expression hard, showing no sign of pain.

"Brother, where's Frank?" my sister asked as she approached, but as soon as she saw the other woman in a tattered wedding dress, she froze. "What happened to you, dear?"

"Your brother happened," Angela didn't hesitate to say, raising an eyebrow and looking at me with pure defiance. "But I guess I should thank the demon for not setting my wedding on fire."

She was bold, and the fear she'd shown earlier in the car was clearly gone. I wondered how long this tough act would last.

"Sorry for the joke, but you really look like you've been through hell. Why don't we find something less... less *this* for you to wear?" Melissa was quick to offer help, as always, but I had other plans for Angela right now.

"Later. For now, she's coming with me. We have some things to clear up, and I want to do it as soon as possible," I ordered, resuming my stride, knowing Mel wouldn't contradict me, at least not in front of strangers.

I heard the heels following me without complaint. We walked down the long hallway decorated by my mother with expensive artwork I didn't care about-just another testament to our wealth, like the many houses, cars, staff, and other possessions we owned.

I stopped at the door to my office, unlocked it, and held it open for her to pass through first. With a sidelong glance, she entered, limping and clutching the hem of her dress but with her head held high, showing she wouldn't be easily intimidated.

Little did she know, I already had a full show prepared to convince her of the monster her father was and that she'd be better off by my side.

"I bet your father told you some lies about me. I'm not here to pretend I'm a saint. I earned my reputation as the Demon of the Camorra because I truly deserved it. I killed for the first time at eleven, and since then, that list has only grown." Angela brought her hands to her mouth, telling me they'd kept that part from her. At least I was being honest. "Torturing my enemies became an art, and though I have people to do it for me, I prefer to handle those matters personally."

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered, leaning on one foot, reminding me she was in pain.

"Because I want to be honest, unlike your parents or anyone else in your life ever was." I stepped closer, and Angela took a step back, still trying to escape me even while limping. "I don't want to lie to you and say I'm a good Samaritan." I grabbed her waist, ending the distance between us, and her hands flew to my bare chest, trying to keep me from getting closer.

I stared at her hands touching me, knowing she could feel my warm skin, while her breathing became uneven again, making her breasts rise and fall in the tight dress.

"Are you... are you going to... abuse me now?" Her stammered question made me hate her father even more for putting those damn ideas in her head.

I was certain this was part of Giovanni's plan to keep me away from his daughter, because he knew that after betraying me and giving her to another, I wouldn't let it slide.

"I could take you right here and now. I could put you on this desk, rip off your dress, and slide my hands over your soft skin until I found your pulsing pussy, desperate to be licked and then truly fucked." I slid my hands along her sides, and Angela squirmed at my touch. "I could cover your flesh with my mouth and lick you until you were screaming and begging for more beneath me. Then I'd enter your tight pussy, claiming your virginity and driving you wild with pleasure."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, shocked, and gasped when I placed my hand at the small of her back and pulled her against my chest, closing the space between our bodies.

"But I'd only do that if you said it's exactly what you want. I wouldn't do anything against your will." Her irises had darkened, and I was sure she could feel my erection. "So, Miss Mancini, is that what you want?" It took a second before Angela swallowed hard and shook her head in refusal. "Good. Then let's talk about all the women your father said I raped and tortured."

I sat her in a chair before walking around the desk and pulling a folder from the right drawer, containing the names and new lives of all the women. I handed it to her.

"What is this?"

"These are the women and the lives they chose." Angela quickly opened the folder, flipping through the pages, looking at the photos to confirm. "I didn't have to torture any of them for information. Some fled from their husbands, others from their own parents and the horrible futures awaiting them. Two of them came from one of the brothels your father owns. They all came to the Camorra in exchange for protection, using the only thing they had for a second chance: information."

"You're saying you gave these women shelter, money, and sent some to other countries as they wanted, just for information? You really expect me to believe that lie?"

"It's not a lie, little angel. Those who chose to leave were taken to the places they wanted, with new identities and some money to start over." I sat back in my chair, resting my hands on the desk. "Some chose to stay and joined the Camorra. You can meet them and ask them directly."

"And why me? What's so special about me that you'd kidnap me? I didn't ask for a second chance like those women, and you must know my father wouldn't accept a union between the two mafias, even with you taking me."

"I know that. Your father doesn't care about your well-being, or he wouldn't have handed you over to that piece of shit." I growled, unable to hide my anger at the thought of Filippo's hands on her. "But I knew I had to save my little angel from that idiot's clutches. You weren't made for him."

"And you think I was made for you?" she challenged, still not understanding.

"I'll prove it to you, darling! I'll show you that you were sent to this world to be the wife of the Demon of the Camorra."

I would do it. I would win her over and break down the barriers where the real Angela had been trapped all these years. I would turn her into her father's worst nightmare!