Elena, the daughter of a notorious mafia family, was offered as a tribute to the leader of the Morello family by her father. In an attempt to escape an arranged marriage, Elena marries a complete stranger. What she doesn't know is that this mysterious husband of hers is none other than the legendary mafia king... and now, he’s also her new boss...

Elena Vitale never should've come back to her childhood home. It was a mafia den of cold cruelty that choked out anything good in life. That's why she had left in the first place.

But she needed to get the money from her old savings account to pay off her student loan—an account her father technically owned. It was linked to his banking account, after all. He used it to show the U.S. government how much of a good, law-abiding citizen he was.

"I could've saved you the trouble. It's empty."

Her father was already in the doorway. The look on his face promised an incoming storm.

"What?"

Blind or uncaring to Elena's dismay, her father walked into his study unbothered.

"Your brother wanted a new sports car," he said simply.

"That's not fair. It was mine!"

The second the heated words left her mouth, Elena knew she'd made another mistake.

"Not fair? Not fair?" Her father towered over her like a raging flame. His face was nearly as red as one.

"I let you go to school to be a doctor, didn't I? I let you live under my house for eighteen years, didn't I?"

Elena wanted to protest that he hadn't let her do anything.

She had to pay her own way through medical school—that's why she had killer loan repayments. Afterwards, she had to find her own apartment to prevent her father from using her as a pawn in his latest power play within mafia circles. Everything Elena had done, she had to do by herself.

She wanted to spit at her father for his arrogance.

"You're my daughter, Elena," he said. "Family. You remember what that means, don't you?"

Truth be told, Elena didn't. Her real family broke apart when she was just three years old. When her mother left the mafia life behind and never looked back.

Her father grew cold afterwards. He moved on fast, remarrying and having a son within a few short years. But as for his first child, Elena might as well have been invisible.

Family had always meant shadows and secrets. Power and control. A tight fist and held breath.

Her father looked down at her, clueless as to her thoughts. His nostrils flared.

"If family needs money, you give it. My word is law. I would've thought you learned that after your marriage proposal."

"I told you already, I'm not marrying Don Morello," Elena spat back.

The Morellos were everything Elena's family, the Vitales, pretended to be. Rich, powerful, and unquestionably in charge. Where Mr. Vitale played at being an old school Italian mafia boss, he was a simple capo compared to the don that was Mr. Morello.

Don Morello was the actual boss, the leader of both the Vitale and Morello families. And he was no doubt pissed at the Vitales for their late payments of tribute.

Now, Elena had become that tribute.

Her father laughed. "You don't have a choice. He's family, and you'll-"

"I won't be a tool so you can move up the mafia ranks."

Elena has no idea what Don Morello promised her father, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't trade her own freedom for anything.

"Don Morello always gets what he wants. And sooner or later, you'll learn there's nothing more important than family."

"Is that why mom left?" Elena asked harshly.

Her father slapped her face. Hard.

Elena's face stung and her eyes were watering. But she still glared at her father before she retreated from his office and his dark prison of a home.

Back at her apartment on the other side of town, Elena tried to calm down. Her money being stolen was unfortunate, but she'd be fine.

She'd be fine.

Elena checked her phone. She had a missed call telling her that, despite her qualifications, the hospital she applied to had chosen to go with a different candidate. About a dozen similar rejection emails waited in her email inbox, too.

This really wasn't her day.

Nobody wanted to hire Elena Vitale, the eldest child of a mafia family, as a doctor. Despite how hard she had worked, her degree was useless.

Her phone rang. Elena almost didn't answer, but the name on her caller ID made her change her mind.

"Mr. Fabio, what's up?"

"Would you care to join me for dinner?"

A city bus ride and an hour later, Elena was finally enjoying good company.

"Really, Mr. Fabio," Elena insisted, gesturing with her wine glass, "I did what anyone would've. You don't have to be so kind."

"I should be saying that to you dear." The elderly man smiled. "There aren't many good neighbors left—not everyone can spot an old fool having a heart attack, let alone call for help."

"Still, that was weeks ago… You're feeling better though, right? Nothing's off?"

Mr. Fabio laughed. It was nothing like her father's laugh. This was hearty and cheerful.

"There you go proving my point. Yes, I'm well. And you?"

Elena felt bad about lying to someone as good and nice as Mr. Fabio. So she didn't.

"I met up with my father. It's not enough his name and influence are preventing me from getting an honest job—he keeps trying to get me to marry some jerk."

Mr. Fabio listened intently and frowned. "Maybe you should get married."

Elena snorted.

"If you want to, I mean," Mr. Fabio insisted. "Arranged marriages in the mafia don't deal with divorcees. Their ideal mafia woman needs to be pure, after all."

Only Mr. Fabio could bring up the mafia traditions without sounding scared stiff or like he was threatening someone. Just another reason Elena admired the old man.

"Are you offering to marry me?" Elena joked.

"No,” he laughed. “I'm offering my grandson. He needs someone like you in my life, my dear."

Elena hesitated. The mafia was feared by non-family members for a reason. Getting a stranger involved with her family felt wrong.

"I don't know. I wouldn't want to get someone you love tangled in all my problems."

"He's a paranoid, unfriendly guy. Marrying him would solve one of my problems, actually. He'll never find a wife otherwise."

Maybe it was the wine or Mr. Fabio's kind reassurances, but Elena found herself agreeing to the plan. Mr. Fabio suggested meeting at her apartment to handle the paperwork tomorrow morning. The sooner this was settled, the better.

Imagine Elena's surprise when Mr. Fabio showed up the next day with no grandson.

"I take it your grandson didn't agree?"

Mr. Fabio shook his head. "No, my dear, your groom got held up with work. But I've got everything you need."

He did have all the right paperwork—already signed by her mystery groom and the necessary witnesses. That didn't strike Elena as exactly legal, but having been raised in the mafia, she couldn't complain.

It also reminded her of the mafia in other ways. Signing a woman's life away to someone based on one fatherly man's opinion. Elena would still be marrying a total stranger.

Was this the right choice?

Elena took a deep breath and signed her name confidently. This was the only way she'd be able to start living her own life.

And at least this way, it was her choice.

Hours later, Elena couldn't help feeling giddy. She was free.

She checked her phone. Mr. Fabio had sent her a congratulations text and told her to keep up her spirits in her job search.

"It should get better soon," his last text read.

On impulse, she pulled up her father's number and sent him a photo of her marriage certificate.

"You couldn't control Mom, and you can't control me. I'm not your political pawn."

She could imagine how mad he'd be getting that text. She smiled to herself and blocked his number.

Her phone chimed, letting her know she got another email. Elena frowned. She didn't want another rejection letter to spoil her good mood.

Only it wasn't a rejection letter. It was an acceptance letter. Elena had been hired by one of the most prestigious hospitals.

If you were in the criminal underworld, that is. The hospital was run by the Ferraro family. It was the pet project of the most powerful don in the city.

The Ferraro's hospital, known to normal citizens as St. Camillus Hospital, served as the perfect emblem for the mob family. It was old as dirt, efficient, and beyond flaws. Nobody, not cop nor criminal, dared whisper anything bad about the Ferraros or their pet project.

It's why Elena even applied to St. Camillus, despite its seedy connections. It wasn't her first choice, but Elena wanted nothing more than to escape her family and start over somewhere new. And the only way to do that was by earning money.

As far as swallowing morals went, St. Camillus wasn't a bad option. Many businesses in the city had mob ties. But most of them were small fries who'd bow down to Capo Vitale or Don Morello in a heartbeat.

The Ferraros were a different story. They'd been on indifferent terms with the Morellos and other crime families, content to let them have their own slice of the city.

But if things ever got dicey? Everybody knew how it would shake out.

The Ferraros set the rules that all other crime families followed—no child prostitution or underage drug deals had occurred for two decades because of the Ferraro's laws. The Ferraros were also the reason contract breeches were punished by death. If anyone crossed them, they'd get wiped out like dust.

The city lived or died at the Ferraros' whims.

So Elena accepted the job offer.

Elena's first week as a doctor at St. Camillus was pretty much what she expected. The work was fulfilling but grueling. She tried not to pay too much attention to who was in her hospital beds—her patients extended the same courtesy.

Her coworkers were more complicated. Elena wasn't turning heads as the Vitale Girl but as the only female doctor in the entire hospital. It took the full week, but the other doctors realized she was more than a pretty face.

Elena was so busy she had barely noticed she'd yet to meet her mystery husband. That was just fine by her. She felt a little bad for Mr. Fabio, but, considering what her former life was like, Elena couldn't feel bad about how things were.

And so a whole nine days passed since Elena's marriage and the start of her new life.

On the tenth day, Elena discovered a new mystery. Massimo Ferraros, the current don of the Ferraro family, was visiting the hospital. According to the gossiping doctors, he was going to pick one doctor to be his family's personal physician.

"Best of luck," Elena told her colleagues.

"You're not interviewing?"

Elena shrugged. Things were going well already—why ruin it by having her life devoted to a mafia don?

On the streets, Massimo Ferraro was called the Boss of Blood and Ice. He was said to personally destroy any mafia member who broke the Ferraro's rules. Apparently, he wiped out every trace of the Lombardi family ten years ago—save through names on headstones.

Not a man she’d want to get entangled with.

"You must be set for life already for a salary of 900k to be below you.”

"Nine hundred thousand dollars?!” she shouted, suddenly glad she had already finished her coffee. Otherwise, she'd be spitting it out in shock. “Neurosurgeons don't even make that much!"

With that kind of money, her student loans would be gone. She could pay for an apartment—no, a house—on the other side of the globe, and still have money left over for a new life.

"Where did you say you had to sign up for an interview?"

Elena got the last appointment of the day. She tried to lose herself to her work but couldn't stop wondering how Massimo Ferraro compared to the rumors.

Finally, it was time to find out.

A man she'd never seen before introduced himself as Ferraro's personal assistant and led her to an unused office in the hospital. That, too, she'd never seen, but the family name on the wall made it clear why: this office was left empty for the mafia don.

The assistant knocked twice. He turned to Elena. "Don Ferraro will see you now."

It wasn't lost on Elena that he was now using mafia titles. While he called his boss "Mr. Ferraro" out in the public wing of the hospital, that had been playing at normal. Here, in private, he could admit all that the Ferraro family was, and, by extension, all their physician might deal with.

Elena had grown up keeping her mouth shut and staying out of mafia business. She could handle ignoring how the Ferraros got injured and focus on treating them.

She opened the door.

The office was pristine and modern. Elena recognized the desk—an abstract, chic thing—from a catalog her father followed: it cost seven thousand dollars. The bookcase Massimo Ferraro was browsing likely was worth triple.

Massimo looked up and stared at Elena.

Massimo was clean shaven with a handsome jawline. His black curled hair was swept into a low, short ponytail. His eyes were like emeralds that danced under starlight.

He also looked a lot younger than Elena expected. He couldn't be more than a decade older than herself, could he?

Elena met his gaze.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Elena—"

"You can go."

He spoke with no emotion. That, as much as what he said, threw off Elena.

Massimo walked slowly to his desk, scowling the whole time. He reminded Elena of an injured cat, snappish but content in his disagreeable nature.

Elena took a steadying breath.

"I'm here to interview for the personal physician opening. Your assistant confirmed that this is my appointment."

Massimo typed on his computer, thoroughly engrossed in the screen. "You're a woman."

He didn't ask it like a question, but Elena nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Then you don't belong here."

"You've got a bad limp," Elena said evenly. "You must've injured it... maybe two weeks ago at most, probably closer to one judging by how much you wince. Your former doctor either told you it'd take too long to heal, or he botched the job entirely."

Massimo stopped typing. He looked at her.

"Go on," he said.

"Like I was saying, I'm Elena Vitale. As you probably know, my father is a capo to Don Morello, but I share nothing with my family aside from my name. I have no contact with them, so you can be sure where my loyalties lie."

Massimo raised an eyebrow, but he didn't interrupt.

"I graduated top of my class. In one week, I've shown every male chauvinist you've employed here how indisputably capable I am. If you give me the opportunity, you will find I’m the best family doctor you could ask for."

It was quiet in the study for a long moment. Then Massimo lifted his left leg onto his desk.

"Tell me how you would treat my limp then."

Elena hesitantly rolled up the pant leg to get a better look at the injury.

"Well," Elena started, "I'm guessing this is a bullet wound of some kind. Your old doctor might've fished out the bullet, but, judging from the sloppy stitch work, he didn't clean the site. Might've not even fished out all the shrapnel."

"If you're so confident you could do better than me, hop to it."

"YOU did this?"

Oh, Elena was screwed. But she didn't have a choice. She took Massimo to his own hospital room and did as he ordered.

While she had pride in her work, it was hard to keep her cool. Massimo stared at his leg as if seeing it for the first time.

"You're hired," he said slowly. "Provided you pass the probation period."

His assistant entered the room with paperwork for Elena and a new suit for the don.

"You're on call at all hours. If Don Massimo needs you, you're expected to be there in a flash," the assistant explained.

Elena nodded. "Is there any chance I could get an advance on my salary? I have some student loans I need to make sure don't default."

The assistant looked at Massimo, who gave a disinterested wave of his hand.

"If you provide the correct information before the end of the day," the assistant replied.

Elena nodded and excused herself.

She hadn't expected them to agree to that. Granted, this job wasn't going to be easy or have any long-term security. She should take whatever she can get.

Elena also hadn't expected them to start talking as soon as she closed the door.

"Luca, I need you to pick up some gifts for my wife."

"Anything in particular, sir? A Windsor watch, Newman cigars, or Magnanni loafers perhaps?"

"All of them."

Elena had to clamp her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. The don's poor wife must've not had a good gift from her husband in ages. Elena felt her energy renewed by this revelation—she should get back to work.

"Are you going to see her tonight, sir? It's already been ten days since you were married."

"I'm not sure..."

His voice got quiet as Elena walked away.

"What a weird coincidence," Elena thought to herself. "He got married on the same day as I did."

Elena considered herself lucky that she just had an absentee husband, not one that was a mafia don.

Elena didn't spare Massimo and his wife another thought. She needed to pack up her things and get ready for Massimo's probation period. It was her path to freedom, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.

But, as she boxed up the little trinkets and equipment she had gathered during her short stay working at the Ferraro's hospital, Elena's thoughts drifted to her own marriage. More specifically, her own husband. A mysterious man she had married ten days ago.

She really didn't know anything about him. All she knew was what Mr. Fabio had told her: he was hopeless with women, distrustful of others, and not very social. It wasn't a lot to go on.

Surely Mr. Fabio had said something else about his grandson, maybe in passing? Before he ever brought up the idea of an arranged marriage?

Elena focused and recalled when she had first met Mr. Fabio. She had been giving him medical treatment and asked if there was anyone to call. Mr. Fabio had informed her that his only relative would be too busy to arrive.

"What does he do?" Elena had asked, hoping the question would distract Mr. Fabio from his pain while she worked.

Mr. Fabio had stayed quiet for a long moment. "He's a mechanic."

The old memory didn't give her many more details, but it was something. So Elena knew the following about her husband: he was a cold, workaholic recluse who had a job as a mechanic.

It didn't paint a flattering picture.

Still Elena hoped she'd get to meet him some day. If Mr. Fabio vouched for him, he couldn't be all bad.

But Elena had to focus on the here and now. She might not work at St. Camillus anymore, but her days would only be getting busier. Being the family doctor for the Ferraros would require her full attention.

She decided to head to the grocery store and meal prep for the week. Then she'd stay up studying, brushing up on her medicinal knowledge. She was determined to pass Massimo's probation period with flying colors.

Contrary to what his grandfather thought, Massimo wasn't unobservant. He wasn't unfeeling either. For example, he felt quite strongly that his entire life situation had taken a turn for the ridiculous lately.

Massimo knew that he was a total outlier in the mafia world. Only 27 yet the mafia don of the most important criminal family, he walked a perilous path.

Add in that he was unmarried and had no legitimate heir, and it became easy to see why Massimo worked as hard to establish himself as he did. Grandfather could call him a workaholic, but Massimo knew the truth: his position required his total focus—otherwise, he'd lose the other families' respect.

Once that was gone, it'd be impossible to stay in control. And Massimo would not lose the position his grandfather had entrusted to him. Not over something so trivial and preventable.

He didn't have time for scheming women—he had enough problems dealing with scheming dons and capos. The big city never slept and neither would Massimo if there was any work to be done. He needed to be ruthless and efficient.

Luca, his second-in-command, approached his desk, interrupting Massimo's musings. Luca's expression was purposefully neutral, which meant he had news that was going to piss off his boss.

"Your grandfather is on the phone, Don Massimo."

With a sigh, Massimo took the phone Luca offered him. "Hello?"

"Have you still not met your wife?" His grandfather, Fabio Ferraro, immediately asked. The old man could really be stubborn and impatient.

"I told you, I'm busy."

Massimo looked back at the reports Luca had handed him an hour ago. The work done by the Morello family looked fine on paper, but his gut said something was fishy. He needed to look into it more closely...

"You'll have to meet her eventually," Fabio scolded, like Massimo was still a young child. "You should do it sooner rather than later. In fact, you should've done it the day your marriage was registered."

"You know I was busy managing the families," Massimo hissed. He really didn't have time for his grandfather's lectures today, not after he lost so many hours interviewing potential doctors. "And then I was shot—you want me to meet this floozy while I'm bleeding out?"

"I didn't raise you to talk to your elders like that," Fabio scolded. "Mind your manners, boy."

A rant was no doubt at the tip of his grandfather's tongue, so Massimo figured his best bet was to play mediator.

"I know, and I do appreciate you arranging the whole ordeal. I also know you think I need an heir, but I don't understand how I'm supposed to accept a stranger."

"A stranger who saved my life," Fabio said. "You have to meet her at least once because of that. But I promise you, Massimo, she's the right girl for you."

Massimo scoffed.

"I mean it," Fabio continued. "She's a wonderful girl with a sweet personality—far too good for a terrible grandson like yourself."

Great, Fabio was either going to talk his grandson's ear off complaining about Massimo's shortcomings or his fantastic mystery wife. There was no winning.

Massimo hung up the phone and handed it back to Luca. This whole wife business felt terribly suspicious. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

Fabio had raised Massimo to be cold and distrustful—the sort of person who could survive in the harsh mafia world. And now that Massimo was finally ready for it, Fabio kept pestering him about grandkids. Has his grandfather gone crazy?

Massimo should be focused on mafia affairs. His grandfather was retired and needed to stop bothering Massimo and distracting him. Massimo would meet his new wife when he had time.

And he didn't have time to spare today. His work was too important to delay.

"Sir," Luca said impassively. "Your grandfather sent over your wife's address. Should I prepare the car?"

Massimo wanted to scream but he settled for balling his hands into fists. Fabio really wouldn't let this go, would he? Not until he got what he wanted.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

His wife's apartment was on the humble side of town. Massimo carried the gifts Luca had prepared and tried to work his expression into something more friendly than a scowl. But as he got closer to the apartment door, that became impossible.

The tenant inside was having sex. Loud, passionate groans and pants echoed along the hallway.

Massimo almost walked out immediately. But, for the sake of his grandfather, he merely ground his teeth and knocked on the door.

A kind, sweet girl? The sounds beyond the door confirmed that wasn't the case.

The door opened. But instead of seeing the woman who had tricked his grandfather, Massimo was greeted by a man. One that had nothing on but his boxers.

"I'm here to see the woman that lives here," Massimo said coldly.

"Wait in line outside, buddy. We're kinda in the middle of something."

With that, the door slammed shut. And whoever was beyond it resumed their earlier activities. If anything, the sounds were louder now.

What little was left of Massimo's patience died. He dropped the gifts at the door and marched right back to his car.

Luca did not immediately drive to his next appointment, which only further aggravated Massimo. Instead Luca glanced hesitantly into the backseat to look at Massimo.

"How did meeting your wife go?"

"She's a slut, just like every other woman in New York. Now let's get back to work."

As a fancy black car peeled away, Elena entered her apartment, carrying her grocery bags. She knocked twice before entering. She didn't want to startle her roommate.

"I'm back!" she declared as she made her way to the kitchen.

Her roommate Aria was already sitting at the countertop. She was staring at items Elena had never seen before—must be gifts from her latest boyfriend.

"Elena, can you believe this: some guy left me a watch, cigars, and men's loafers. Who in their right mind would ever give a woman these?"