Chapter 1

After my boyfriend gave me a front-row seat to his betrayal, I did the most reckless thing I could think of.

I married the old guy who smoked cigars outside our office building.

He was the security guard.

Or so I thought.

He was always there, leaning against the wall, puffing on a fat stogie, watching the world with these lazy, knowing eyes.

Everyone called him "Vito."

Nobody knew his last name.

He was in his late forties, silver at the temples, built like a bull, and had a voice like gravel and honey.

The morning after I caught Jake with my so-called best friend, I walked out of the office in tears.

Vito was at his usual post.

He took one look at my face, put out his cigar, and said, "Rough day, principessa?"

I don't know what came over me. I just blurted, "Marry me."

He laughed. Low and dark. "You sure about that, little one?"

I was so done with nice guys.

I wanted someone who could burn the world down. "I'm sure."

He looked at me for a long, slow second. Then he pulled out his phone. "I know a guy at the courthouse. Be ready in an hour."

And just like that, I became Aria Marchetti.

The whole office thought I'd lost my mind.

They were already calling me "the security guard's wife."

They were waiting for me to crash and burn. But when I walked into the boss's office to ask for my honeymoon leave, Mr. Sterling was having a meltdown over some deal gone south. He snatched our marriage certificate, ready to tear me a new one. Then he looked at the photo. His face went white. His hand started shaking.

"You... you know who you married, right?"

I stared at him.

"The security guard?"

He swallowed hard. "That's Vito Marchetti. He owns half the city. And the other half... he controls."

I looked down at the photo. The man with the cigar, who always held the door for me, who smelled of leather and smoke. My husband. A mob boss.

And I had no idea.