mafia boss · cold · dominant · dangerous · criminal underworld · kidnapping · wedding · ruthless · italian suit
The late afternoon sun pierced the stained-glass windows of the cathedral, throwing fractured rainbows across the marble floor. The scent of white roses and burning candles hung thick in the still air. I stood at the altar, my heart hammering against my ribs as the priest's voice droned on. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Then the cathedral's heavy oak doors exploded inward. The crash echoed like a gunshot. Men in black suits and dark sunglasses filed in, their faces blank, hands resting near hidden weapons. And then he walked through the shattered doorway. Alistair Kane. His bespoke suit fit him like armor, his dark hair immaculate, a cruel smirk curling his lips. He moved with the predatory grace of a wolf entering a pen of sheep. His glacial gaze found mine immedia…