BECAUSE OF HIS SIZE, THE MAFIA BOSS WAS REJECTED BY FIVE FIANCÉES WHO CALLED HIM A MONSTER — UNTIL A CLUMSY AMERICAN BAKER AGREED TO BECOME HIS BRIDE AND UNCOVERED THE DEADLIEST SECRET IN MILAN!

The private chapel of Villa Moretti was built of medieval stone, tucked into the mountain rock behind the main residence. Hundreds of beeswax candles flickered in iron sconces along the walls, casting dancing amber shadows across the ancient altar and the frescoed ceiling depicting Saint Michael slaying the dragon.

Luca stood at the altar.

He had removed his overcoat. In his tailored black tuxedo, with his broad shoulders squared and his scarred face illuminated by the warm candlelight, he looked less like a modern businessman and more like an ancient warlord carved out of Roman marble.

Beside him stood an elderly priest in gold-embroidered vestments and two trusted capos standing vigil near the heavy arched entrance.

The heavy iron-studded doors creaked open.

I stepped onto the stone aisle, walking slowly. I had traded my sneakers for a pair of simple black flats Elena had found for me, and my denim jacket was replaced by a soft ivory cashmere shawl draped over my simple green sundress.

Luca turned.

When his eyes fell on me, when he saw me walking toward him instead of turning toward the gates, something profound and raw fractured in his expression. For a split second, the impenetrable fortress of Don Moretti crumbled, revealing the stunned disbelief of a man witnessing an impossible miracle.

His gaze dropped to my left hand, where the Moretti emerald caught the candlelight.

His throat moved in a heavy swallow.

As I reached the altar steps, I missed the final stone riser by half an inch. My foot clipped the edge, and I stumbled forward with a startled gasp.

Luca didn't hesitate.

Before I could hit the cold stone, his massive arms caught me. His hands were wide, calloused, and unbelievably strong, supporting my waist with effortless grace. He pulled me gently against his chest, steadying me on my feet.

"You have a habit of falling into me, Sophia," his voice rumbled, so low that only I and the priest could hear it. A faint, genuine smile curved his lips.

"You have a habit of being in the right place to catch me, Signor Moretti," I whispered back, looking directly into his stormy eyes without looking away. "I think that makes us even."

His eyes widened slightly at my boldness. The tension between us shifted, thick with an electric charge that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with heat.

Father Bernardo cleared his throat, opening his leather-bound Latin missal.

The ceremony was swift, conducted in a rhythmic blend of ancient Latin and English. In this secluded sanctuary, isolated from the prying eyes of Milan’s criminal underworld, there were no cameras, no high-society guests, and no fake smiles. There were only two strangers forging a blood oath against a gathering storm.

"Do you, Luca Salvatore Moretti, take this woman to be your lawful wife, to honor and protect her, in blood and peace, until death do you part?"

Luca didn't take his eyes off me. "I do."

"And do you, Sophia Marie Bennett, take this man to be your lawful husband, to honor and stand beside him, in blood and peace, until death do you part?"

"I do," I answered clearly, my voice ringing off the stone walls.

Luca took the heavy platinum wedding band from the silver tray. His fingers, despite their enormous size and the lethal power they possessed, were astonishingly gentle as he slid the ring onto my finger beside the emerald.

When it was my turn, I took his massive hand in mine. His skin was rough, bearing small scars across his knuckles—the marks of a lifetime of violence. I slid the wide gold band over his finger, squeezing his hand firmly to let him know I wasn't letting go.

"By the power invested in me by Holy Mother Church," Father Bernardo announced, crossing himself, "I pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal the vow."

Luca hesitated for a heartbeat. He looked down at me, clearly unsure of how much he was allowed to take, afraid that his touch might overwhelm me.

I didn't give him the chance to doubt himself.

I rose onto my tiptoes, reached up, and placed both of my hands flat against his broad, muscular chest. I pulled myself up and pressed my lips gently against his.

His entire body went rigid with shock. Then, with a low groan that vibrated against my mouth, his large hand came up, resting softly against the nape of my neck, his thumb caressing my jawline as he deepened the kiss with an intensity that made my knees go weak.