Revenge at the Altar

The gardens of the Moretti estate were lit up, and all the core family members had gathered to celebrate my twenty-third birthday.

The thought that I would never again receive a birthday gift from my papa was a sharp, stabbing pain in my heart.

"Happy birthday, my love."

Robin wrapped his arms around me from behind, kissing my ear.

I leaned back against him, as if he were the only thing holding me up. "When my papa passed, I thought my world would collapse."

My voice trembled with a perfectly calibrated fragility.

"But it didn't," I said, turning to gaze at Robin with the most adoring eyes in the world. "Because I have you."

Robin's chest puffed out, his face a mask of undisguised pride and satisfaction.

"It was you, Robin, who became my light in my darkest hour," I said, placing my free hand over his on my arm. "To my fiancé. My protector. My everything."

I drained my champagne glass.

The great hall erupted in applause. Robin, completely melted by my performance, leaned down and whispered possessively in my ear, "Soon, they'll all be calling me Don Gallo."

The hunger for the Moretti family's wealth and power was practically boiling over in him now, an ambition he could no longer hide in his eyes.

Three days until my revenge.

I simply smiled at him, then turned to my brother, Marco.

"Brother, I feel a little dizzy," I said, pressing my fingers to my temple and swaying slightly.

Marco understood immediately. He steadied me. "My sister needs to rest." He spoke to Robin with a tone that left no room for argument, then guided me through the crowd toward the back of the estate.

We didn't go to a guest room.

We went to my papa's study, through a secret door hidden behind a bookshelf, and into the true heart of the family's power—a soundproof, windowless chamber.

A man was already waiting for us.

Dante Falcone.

Even in the dim light, his silhouette was flawless and dangerous. A black suit, ice-blue eyes, and a face that had captivated countless women.

But it was obvious that, as my future husband by arrangement of our family, I wasn't here to admire him today.

"Don Falcone," I said, closing the door behind us. The frail woman from moments ago was gone, replaced by someone standing ramrod straight. I finally let the smile fall from my face.

"Miss Moretti," he acknowledged with a slight nod, his eyes sweeping over me. "My condolences."

"I'm not here for your condolences," I said, walking directly across from him and taking a seat. "I'm here to make a deal."

Dante raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Oh?"

"Robin Gallo. My 'fiancé'," I said, the word tasting like ash. "He murdered my papa."

Dante's expression didn't change, but he sat up straighter. "A bold accusation. He was your project, wasn't he? You're the one who made him."

"I raised a dog that bites its master," I said coldly. "Now, I'm going to put him down myself."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'm turning my wedding into his execution," I said, my voice calm but laced with venom. "I will try him and sentence him in front of every family. I want everyone to see what happens when you betray the Morettis."

"And for that, Don Falcone, I need your help," I said, looking him directly in the eye.

Don Falcone was silent for a moment, his fingertips tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair. "It sounds entertaining. But why should the Falcone family risk making enemies of half the underworld to help you clean house?"

"In return, every racket under Robin's name—the casinos, the docks, the smuggling routes—our families split it all, fifty-fifty."

A cold smile finally touched Dante's lips. He stood, walked over to me, and extended his hand.

"I've always admired people who believe in an eye for an eye," he said, looking down at me, his gaze filled with the approval of one predator for another. "Especially a woman who collects her own debts. We have a deal."

I reached out and shook his hand.

His palm was warm and strong, a world away from Robin's deceptively gentle touch.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Don Falcone."

Dante raised an imaginary glass. "Then I trust it will be… an unforgettable wedding."