Chapter 1
ONE
CHARLES
I loved my life.
Well, aside from the fact that at thirty-two, I was still single, but other than that, it was perfect. And so was the wedding cake I had just finished. I took a step back and breathed out. When my client, Gia, had asked for an Italian-themed cake, I knew I’d be able to let my creativity fly.
But I’d never expected it to be this perfect.
This grand.
Four tiers high, two layers were a rich, moist cake with coconut, pecans, pineapple, and a touch of almond.
The other two were lemony with that perfect balance between sweet and tart.
I’d gone all out on the decorations, using flowers, berries, and whipped cream to create the Italian flag on one layer.
Another held a miniature Vespa—the bride’s passion apparently.
I had also incorporated some famous buildings, including the Leaning Tower of Pisa on top, next to the bride and groom. It was definitely in my top five of wedding cakes I was most proud of. It was simply stunning.
And Gia was so sweet, about the furthest thing from a Bridezilla ever.
Her fiancé, Carlo, was a little different.
Not that he’d ever been anything but nice to me, but his eyes were hard and sharp.
He scared me a little, but that was probably just my overactive imagination.
I really needed to stop watching those true-crime documentaries.
After a last loving look at the cake, I stretched, yawning as my fatigue hit me.
I’d been up at three to finish the cake, so no wonder I was tired.
The good news was that I could get some sleep as soon as I delivered the cake.
The cake was already on the carrying tray, so all I needed to do was ask Solstice, my best friend and neighbor, to help me put it in the van.
The front door of Sweet Relief, my little bakery, jingled as I walked out and popped into Daisies, Solstice’s shop.
She was behind the counter, ringing up a customer, sending him her professional smile.
As soon as he left, she gave me her real one, the kind that made her gorgeous, smooth skin wrinkle at her eyes.
“Cake done?” she asked.
“She’s a top-five beauty.”
“You say that every time.”
“That’s because I’m still growing in my skills. I get better with each cake.”
She patted my shoulder. “Love your confidence, darling.”
“Thank you. How did you get on with the flowers?”
Solstice had done all the elaborate flower arrangements for Gia’s wedding. No small feat considering the list of wishes, but I had no doubt Solstice had pulled it off.
“Just dropped off the bridal bouquet.” Solstice whistled between her teeth. “That’s the biggest job I’ve ever done, and it will cover my mortgage for the next six months.”
My face lit up. “That’s amazing. Yes, Gia pays well, or rather, her father does. Gotta love a daddy’s girl, when daddy’s got money.”
“I can’t thank you enough for recommending me.”
I waved her words away. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
She would have. That’s why we created Wedding Row, a series of shops on the same street that all catered to weddings.
There was Solstice and me, plus Zane, who was a wedding photographer, Brexon and Jace, who designed everything from wedding invitations to menus, and of course Dolly, who owned the bridal store.
Plus, Laura, a wedding planner. We all worked together and promoted each other.
Since clients got a discount when they used the others, we got a lot of referrals that way.
“Anyway, can you help me load the cake?” I asked.
“Sure thing.”
For someone who was five foot four and maybe a hundred-and-twenty pounds soaking wet, she was surprisingly strong. We had the cake in the van in no time, and I closed the doors with a sigh of relief. Almost done.
“It really is pretty,” Solstice said.
“It better be for what they paid me.”
“Daddy’s got deep pockets.”
“I hope Carlo does too. She’s accustomed to getting what she wants.”
Solstice cocked her head. “Do you know what he does for a living? Carlo, I mean?”
I frowned. “I don’t think the topic came up, actually.”
Which was interesting because it almost always did. I’d made it a habit to ask questions like that, wanting to know my clients so I could make the perfect cake for them.
“He’s the owner of an Italian restaurant on the Lower East Side called Mario’s,” Solstice said.
Not the most original name, but okay. “That’s not so bad.” Solstice made a face, so I asked, “Is it?”
“It’s weird because it only has, like, ten reviews, all from two years ago, and they’re all so generic that they sound incredibly fake.”
“And?”
“Did he strike you as the type to own a restaurant? You know what hard work that is.”
I did, and now that she mentioned it, he didn’t seem like the type at all. “He wore super expensive shoes. And his watch cost a fortune.”
She threw up her hands. “Exactly. Something’s off there.”
I gave it another thought, then shrugged. “You know what? It’s not our problem. They already paid the invoice, so what do I care?”
Solstice pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded. “Good point.”
“Just out of curiosity, what do you think he does for a living?”
Solstice hesitated. “Honestly? He gives hitman vibes.”
“Hitman? Girl, you’ve watched too many bad action movies.”
“Maybe, but he gives me the chills.”
I couldn’t deny that because I’d felt the same. “Still not our problem, is it? Paid invoice, Sol. Six months of rent.”
“Right.” She bent forward and kissed my cheek. “Go deliver that cake and then get some sleep, okay? You look like shit.”
“Love you too, darling.”
I was still smiling when I drove to the wedding venue, which was on the outskirts of town.
Charming was a cute small town in the Hudson Valley, about an hour and a half from the city.
Close enough for New Yorkers to travel to but far enough away to have that classic American small-town flavor.
And with a name like Charming, it was almost fated to be a wedding destination.
You had to work with what you had, right?
Gia had picked the Holy Cross Church for the ceremony and mass, and Father Judson liked doing weddings.
Built like a defense football player and hella hot with blond hair, an angular face, and a pair of crystal-blue eyes, he must’ve been voted Least Likely to Become a Priest in high school, but here we were.
Too bad because honestly, I wouldn’t mind him doing me.
The good lord knew I could use a solid dicking, but alas, there were few available options in this town.
But we did have options for wedding venues, ranging from small with country charm—Avery’s Apple Orchard—to tawdry.
That would be the Irish pub, where the only Irish element was the sheer amount of alcohol served.
And we had one more luxurious option, which had been Gia’s pick for the reception, obviously, so I headed to the Charming Banquet Hall.
A professionally printed sign outside the banquet hall announced the wedding in elegant script: Celebrating the Union of Carlo Ricotta and Gia Mangioni.
Their names were surrounded by ornate flourishes and small golden bells, the kind of expensive signage that spoke of serious money being spent.
And those two names… This really would be a full-blown Italian wedding, complete with all the traditions and probably enough food to feed half the Hudson Valley.
When I pulled up to the back entrance, Steve was already waiting for me. I’d texted him as soon as I’d left, knowing I’d need his help.
“Hey, Charles,” he said when I got out.
“Hi, Steve. Thanks for helping.”
“My pleasure.”
Together, we carried the cake out of the van and placed it onto a cart. I liked working with Steve. He was on the spectrum, but it made him super careful and detail-oriented—not a bad thing when handling a wedding cake.
“This good?” Steve checked when we’d transferred the cake onto the table.
“Perfect. I’m gonna do the finishing touches, and then I’m out of here.”
“Your work is done, and ours is beginning,” Steve said like he always did.
“Exactly.”
“I will see you later, Charles. I have to drive to the rental facility now and pick up the extra chairs.”
“Sounds good. Have a good day, Steve.”
“You too, Charles.”
Going through these formulaic rituals was calming to him, and I had no issue with it. It was such a simple, small thing to do.
As Steve walked off, I took some tissues to clean the platter around the cake, then used a little brush to polish the various berries.
There. It looked absolutely perfect. I took some pictures with my phone.
I’d have to text Zane to get some close-up photos as well, but these would be great if all else failed.
I’d stepped back to get one last picture from farther away when I heard voices. Angry voices. The angry male voice was cold as ice, but I recognized it immediately. Carlo, Gia’s fiancé.
Something about his voice made every hair on my arms stand up. It wasn’t mere anger—I’d heard plenty of angry customers over the years, and though I didn’t like it, they didn’t usually scare me. But this was something colder, more controlled, like a predator that had cornered its prey.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up, that primal instinct that screamed danger even when everything looked normal on the surface.
I’d felt it when I’d met him, when Carlo had looked at me with those sharp, calculating eyes, but I’d dismissed it as wedding stress.
Now, hearing that ice-cold tone, Solstice’s remarks flashed back into my brain: hitman.
When the voices came closer, I inched behind a curtain.
“Hartwell betrayed me.”
“So what will you do about it?”
I didn’t recognize the second man’s voice, but he sounded older.
The men stopped right in front of where I was hiding, their shadows falling across the gap in the curtain.
My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was sure it would give me away, and cold sweat slicked my palms as I pressed them against the wall behind me.
Something primal and terrified clawed at my chest—every instinct I had screamed that if they discovered me here, listening to this, bad things would happen to me.
“He’s gonna take a nice, long swim in the Hudson, is what.”
My heart skipped a beat, then started racing so fast I felt dizzy. Carlo couldn’t mean that he’d actually…kill someone, right? That he’d murder whoever had betrayed him?
The words “swim in the Hudson” echoed in my head, and suddenly, every true-crime documentary I’d ever watched came flooding back. Bodies dumped in rivers. People who disappeared without a trace.
My mouth went bone dry as the horrifying reality sank in.
I wasn’t listening to some guy blow off steam or make empty threats.
This was real. Carlo was calmly discussing ending someone’s life like he was deciding what to order for lunch, and I was trapped here, an accidental witness to what sounded like a planned execution.
“Hartwell’s a cop. You take him out, the boys in blue are gonna come after you. Hard.”
A cop? Carlo wanted to kill a cop? Lord, have mercy, this wasn’t good.
“I know, but I can’t let this slide. I have to send a message, or every punk with a badge or a gun is gonna think he can fuck me over.”
In the long silence that followed, I stood frozen to the ground.
“And Gia?” the other man finally asked.
“What about her?”
“Renzo said she doesn’t know about any of it.”
Carlo snorted. “Of course she does. But she looks the other way as she should. She knows better than to get involved.”
“And if she does? If she finds out?”
“Then she’ll learn her place as my wife. I’m marrying her because of who her father is…and because she’s hot and a great fuck. The woman can give a blowjob like nobody else, lemme tell ya.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way about her. If Renzo finds out…”
“He’ll do what? He needs me far more than I need him, trust me. He’s dead broke after this wedding, and he’ll need my money to continue his lavish lifestyle. So I can talk about his daughter any way I want because there ain’t a goddamn thing he can do about it.”
“I don’t think you understand how Renzo—”
“I don’t think you understand.” Carlo’s voice was cold as an ice dagger now.
“I could tell Gia to suck off every man under my command, and her father wouldn’t be able to lift a fucking finger to stop it.
In fact, I very well may order her to do just that if she gives me any lip.
About time she learned some respect for me. ”
Nausea rolled in my stomach at the images Carlo’s words conjured up, bile rising in my throat as I fought not to be sick right here behind this curtain.
He was so much viler than I could’ve imagined—a monster wearing an expensive suit, talking about murdering a cop and degrading his own wife like he was discussing the weather.
My hands shook uncontrollably as the full weight of what I’d overheard crashed down on me. This wasn’t merely some overheard argument I could pretend never happened. A man was going to die, and I was the only one who knew.
I had to do something. As much as I hated the thought of Gia being trapped in hell with this psychopath, there wasn’t much I could do to prevent the wedding from happening. Besides, if I understood correctly, Gia’s father was some kind of bad guy as well, so maybe she should’ve known better.
However, I couldn’t let Carlo kill an innocent cop.
That was where I drew the line, and it was a sharp one, an obvious one.
But who would believe me? Who could I even tell without putting myself in the crosshairs of whatever criminal empire Carlo was clearly a part of?
My breath came in short, panicked gasps as the voices finally moved away, leaving me alone with the terrible knowledge that unless I did something, a man would die.
Somehow, some way, I was going to have to find the courage to stop it.