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Runaway Bride
Description
Yesterday I was a mafia princess, powerful and beloved.
Today I’m crawling through a bathroom window in a wedding gown.
Look, I know how this works. Crime families war until there’s a ceasefire, then arranged marriages keep the peace.
Butmymarriage? To that Palladino psycho? To the man who killed his own father and brother; the man who looks at me like a three course meal?
Hell no. I’m not an idiot, thank you, and I’m nobody’s sacrificial lamb.
I’m outta here, veil and all.
And Palladino? He’ll catch me if he can.
Mia
Six weeks earlier
We meet on neutral ground, the representatives of two warring families coming together. Makes sense, right? The newfound peace is fragile enough as it is, and one wrong movement, one snide look and the whole thing could come tumbling down. That would mean bloodshed. More bodies in the street; more weeping widows. More freaking clean up. No thanks.
No one wants to risk that. We’ve been warring for long enough, and hell—between us, there’s a city to run. Everyone is bored of fighting.
So I don’t go to the Palladino compound, and my fiance doesn’t set foot on Serpico soil. Instead we meet in the middle on the rickety beach boardwalk, surrounded by tourists and sunbathers, the salt air tugging at our fine clothes.
He’s not what I expected.
For one thing, he’s the wrong brother.
I clear my throat as he approaches, looking for the right words. The smart way of lodging this complaint. I’m owed the heir, damn it. The Palladino kingpin. I’m not marrying some lower-down schmuck—it would be such a fall from grace.
“Hello, Mia.”
His eyes are a deep, rich brown. Nearly black. They bore into me as he comes closer, hands thrust casually in his suit pockets, the sides of his jacket flapping in the breeze. Despite his calm words, there’s something…offabout the way this man looks at me.
He looks feral. Hungry.
A wolf who’s caught a scent.
“Leo,” I manage, nodding respectfully. All around us, whooping kids, harried parents and old people in matching bingo t-shirts walk up and down the boardwalk. Dropping their ice creams in the sunshine. “Is Davide…?”
“Dead.” Ah, I see. The new kingpin smiles, sunny and cheerful, and those dimples have no business on a mafioso. “Very dead. No, you’ll marry me.”
Simple as that, huh? I purse my lips and turn to stare out to sea, hiding my bitterness from his eyes. It’s not that Iwantedto marry Davide, not particularly, but I do prefer to have a concrete plan. And I definitely like to be informed. It’s called respect.
“When did he…?”
“Last night.”
The wooden planks groan as Leo steps closer, leaning his elbows on the rail beside me. He peers at the glittering water like he’s curious what’s captured my attention, and I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to keep still. Even when I feel the heat of his body at my side. Even when my heart trips faster, slamming into my ribs.
Still, Mia. No sudden movements, and no insults.
“You wouldn’t have liked him,” Leo tells me, deep voice lowering like it’s a secret. When he leans closer, his shoulder brushes mine, and I catch the faint scent of a citrusy cologne. “My brother was a very bad man.”
They’reallvery bad men, and I’m no angel. This is bullshit.
