Page 43 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

I stop, eye-level with Liam.

He studies me. This close, I can see the bags under his eyes, and the darkness against the edges of his lips.

Liam isn’t fucking happy about this.

In fact, I’d say the opposite is true.

“I don’t know what your fucking game is, De Luca,” he says under his breath, “but if you fucking touch one hair on my sister’s head, all bets are off.”

“What bets?” I say, the picture of innocence.

His lips press into a line, and he lets out a growl. “I’ll fucking show you how deep the crazy runs in this family, you bastard. That’s the fucking bet. You think Kieran and I are different? We’re fucking not. The only difference is that I can keep my leash on, and he never could.”

Nowthatis fascinating.

I tilt my head and give him a smile, then clap him on the shoulder. “I look forward to spending time with you, Liam. It’s always nice to know more about Roisin and where she comes from,” I smirk.

Liam’s nostrils flare and I know I’ve hit a sore spot.

I hear female voices from further inside the house, and I brush off Liam’s shoulder, following them in.

Despite the fact that I’m supposed to be here to help Roisin, I find that I’m intrigued all around.

Something is rotten in this house. Something is strange about why Stassi, who can have literally anyone she wants, would choose to shackle herself to Liam.

The game has changed. I’m no longer here to help Roisin, which I never really wanted in the first place.

I’m going to do what I do best.

Figure out how to protect my fucking family.

At all fucking costs.

I follow the sound of Roisin and Stassi’s voices as they echo down the hall, noting the details of the house as I go. I’m no stranger to family homes that carry a lot of history. Supposedly there’s a De Luca estate in Italy still, but I’ve never been.

I have, however, been to Elio’s family home in Italy. Fucking stunning. I went when I was in college, and he was there learning the ropes from his dad, a real old-school Italian who had a dark, booming laugh and more than a few raunchy stories always ready to tell.

For a minute, my memory clouds. I remember being so jealous of their relationship. My father was… harder. I never quite knew why, but some of the documents that I found after his death gave me some kind of clue about what might have hardened him.

Including the fact that my mother had an affair.

Including the fact that his father, and his uncles, were all sent to jail in the 80s on bullshit RICO charges, and they left him to run the business alone.

His journal, which I found nearly a week after their deaths, as well as my mother’s journals, all told a story that I had never heard, but explained a lot.

However, a child should not know those things about their parents. After they died, and I couldn’t ask any questions?

It was too fucking much.

“Oh my god. This looks incredible,” I hear Roisin breathe.

Blinking, I take myself back to the present.

And I find myself in a fucking sea of white lace and pearls.

I look around the room, my eyebrows winging up as I do.

There are wedding dresses… everywhere.

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