She'd imagined her wedding day a thousand times. It never looked like this.

There were no flowers picked by her own hands. No venue she had chosen. No groom she had said yes to.

Just a white dress — landing at her feet, thrown by a man who had never once asked for permission in his life.

She looked up at him. Cold eyes. Expensive suit. A jaw set in stone.

The most feared mafia boss in the city — arms crossed, already decided, already done with this conversation before it had even started.

"Put it on," he said. "We're getting married in an hour."

She almost laughed. She almost screamed.

But there was something in the way he looked at her — not cruel, not careless — that stopped every word in her throat.

Like she wasn't a tr ...