Mafia Don’s Convenient Vows (Mafia Don’s Lies #2)

Chapter 1

Luca

I pocketed the phone and checked my watch. Sienna Moretti was nothing if not predictable—intelligent enough to plan an escape route, stubborn enough to take it, and desperate enough to choose the path we'd left open for her.

My Maserati idled in the shadows beyond the church grounds, positioned exactly where our intelligence suggested she'd emerge.

Three years of planning had led to this moment—started the day I walked out of prison and began rebuilding my father's empire.

Three years of watching, waiting, maneuvering pieces on a board she didn't even know she was playing on.

The silk hem of her wedding dress tore under her heel as Sienna bolted into the night, a white flash against the shadows. I caught a glimpse of her—wild hair, frantic breath, defiance burning in every step—just before she slammed into me.

"Right on time, principessa," I murmured, my hands snapping around her arms before she could stumble back.

Recognition flashed in her storm-gray eyes—not just of my name, but of the night five years ago at the charity gala, before prison destroyed everything.

When I'd looked at her across a crowded ballroom and felt something I had no right to feel.

When she'd dismissed me with a single cutting glance that had burned into my memory through two years of concrete walls.

"You," she breathed, the word containing everything—recognition, fury, and something darker she'd never admit.

She reacted like a feral cat, nails clawing, fists flying, teeth bared in a snarl. I let her fight for a few seconds, savoring the raw, desperate energy pouring off her. It was almost a shame to end it.

Almost.

With one brutal twist, I pinned her against the side of the black Maserati, her palms flattened on the cold metal, my body caging hers. She struggled, muscles taut, heart hammering under my grip.

"Let me go, Luca!" she hissed, yanking against me.

I leaned in, my breath ghosting against the shell of her ear. "Not a chance."

Her storm-gray eyes shot daggers at me, pure loathing wrapped around a kernel of fear she tried so hard to hide. That fear tightened something low in my gut, a dark, protective instinct clawing to the surface.

No. Not now.

I slammed it back down, masking it with the icy ruthlessness that had gotten me this far.

"You're making a scene," I murmured, the hint of a smirk curling my mouth. "Daddy’s men are already on their way. Think they'll be as gentle as me?"

She stiffened, and there it was—that flicker of calculation behind the fury. Sienna Moretti wasn't stupid.

Brave, reckless, infuriating as hell—but never stupid.

"You're a bastard," she spat.

"Better a bastard than a corpse," I said smoothly, shifting my weight so she could feel exactly how thoroughly she was trapped.

Her jaw clenched. "What do you want?"

I chuckled, low and humorless. "Simple. You’re marrying me instead. Tonight if possible, tomorrow morning at the latest. Your father and I came to an... arrangement."

Her sharp intake of breath told me she understood. The pieces clicking together—my presence here, the timing, her father's unusual insistence on this particular wedding.

Her nostrils flared.

"But not the way you’re thinking, principessa," I added lazily, enjoying the way her eyes sparked at the nickname. "You’re coming with me. Tonight. You have two choices: get in the car willingly, or watch your father hand you over to the enemies already closing in."

Sienna’s breathing hitched, subtle, but there. Her mind worked furiously, weighing her nonexistent options.

Good.

"Make no mistake," I murmured, my lips brushing her ear in a mockery of tenderness. "You can hate me all you want. But I’m the only devil standing between you and a bloodbath."

For a beat, neither of us moved.

Then, with a shudder that might’ve been rage—or surrender—Sienna jerked her chin up, gray eyes blazing.

"Fine," she bit out. "But don't think for a second you own me."

I smiled darkly, cold satisfaction settling deep in my bones.

"You think you’ve escaped your cage, little principessa?" I rasped, yanking the door open and shoving her inside. "You’ve only stepped into mine."

The slammed door shut behind her, sealing both our fates with a metallic click.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I allowed myself one slow breath before starting the engine. The car's interior was filled with her—her citrus and vanilla scent, the heat of her fury radiating from the passenger seat like a second sun.

She stared straight ahead, rigid and silent, but the air between us crackled with tension.

I gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, the leather creaking under my palms.

Trust. Loyalty. Promises.

All things I knew better than to believe in.

A flash of memory sliced through me, sharp and unwanted: standing in a sterile courtroom, the world blurring as the judge pronounced my sentence.

The faces that had once sworn undying loyalty to me—cowards and traitors—sat silently, letting me take the fall for crimes I hadn’t committed.

My own blood had betrayed me, so-called "family" stepping over my broken body to seize more power.

Prison hadn't broken me. It had reforged me.

Now, looking at Sienna—the daughter of another Don, a woman bred into the very world that had nearly destroyed me—I felt the old instincts coil tight.

No one would ever get close enough again to use me as a pawn. No matter how tempting, no matter how infuriating, no matter how gorgeous she was with that fire in her eyes.

I would use Sienna Moretti to protect my empire, to prevent a war, and nothing more.

And if I felt something raw and dangerous stirring in my chest as she sat there, seething and beautiful in her torn wedding dress?

I crushed it down until all that remained was cold, calculated purpose.

The drive stretched in suffocating silence, thick enough to choke on. Her perfume—citrus and something sweeter underneath, vanilla maybe—clung to the warm air inside the car. It was a scent that didn’t belong to chaos and bloodlines. It belonged to sunlight and stolen summers. It infuriated me.

From the corner of my eye, I watched her fists clench in the folds of her ruined gown, white-knuckled and trembling. Every inch of her radiated tension—shoulders locked tight, chin lifted in stubborn defiance.

I flexed my fingers around the wheel, the leather biting into my palms. My jaw ached from grinding my teeth, a muscle ticking wildly in my cheek. Even the low rumble of the Maserati’s engine felt too loud, vibrating through the tight space between us.

I wanted to tear my gaze away. Focus on the road. Keep this businesslike. Clean. Controlled.

But my body, traitorous and hungry for something more dangerous than revenge, refused to obey.

She shifted slightly, her bare knee brushing against mine, and the accidental touch sent a flash of heat through me so fast I nearly cursed out loud.

This woman would be the end of me if I wasn’t careful.

And careful was something I couldn’t afford not to be.

The next turnoff loomed ahead, but instinct prickled at the back of my neck, setting my teeth further on edge.

A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed it—a black SUV trailing us at a distance, lights dim, engine humming low and predatory.

"Someone's following us," Sienna said quietly, her voice stripped of the fire, replaced with something sharp and cold.

Good. She wasn't stupid.

I didn't answer, just pressed harder on the accelerator, weaving through traffic with brutal precision. The Maserati roared under my hands, the powerful engine eating the distance between us and the city’s outskirts.

The SUV kept pace, creeping closer.

Not part of the plan. Giuseppe's men weren't supposed to mobilize this quickly.

I'd accounted for her father's security, for the wedding guests' confusion, even for her own route selection.

But I hadn't anticipated how swiftly her uncle would move to reclaim his niece—and the inheritance she represented as long as Giuseppe married her off to someone who had his best interest at heart, and not his brother’s.

"Friends of yours?" Sienna asked, her fists tightening again in her lap.

"Not the friendly kind," I muttered.

Without warning, I jerked the wheel hard, taking a side street barely wide enough for two cars. Tires screeched, the Maserati fishtailing for a split second before gripping the pavement. I shot another look behind us.

The SUV hesitated.

Amateurs.

Another sharp turn, another alley, and the black beast behind us disappeared into the maze of crumbling warehouses and neon-soaked streets.

Only when the road emptied around us did I allow myself a breath.

Sienna sat motionless, but when I glanced at her again, her face was pale beneath the mess of her hair. Her breathing came shallow and fast.

"Still think you don't need me?" I said roughly, voice low.

She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

For the first time that night, the armor cracked.

I caught it—not in her words, but in the trembling of her hands, the slight quiver of her lower lip before she clamped her teeth down hard. Not fear of me. Fear of being powerless. Fear of being a pawn in games older and bloodier than either of us.

The sight of it—the naked, unguarded fear she couldn't quite suppress—punched something deep inside my chest.

It was easier when she was spitting fire, throwing her fists, clawing at me with all that stubborn fury. This...this vulnerability was a blade sliding under my ribs, carving open something I had no business feeling.

I shifted my gaze back to the road, every muscle straining against the urge to reach for her, to promise something dangerous and foolish—like safety. Like loyalty.

I couldn’t afford either.

Protecting her was a strategy. Protecting her was survival.

It had to stay that way.

And yet, as the city bled away behind us, the silence between us grew heavier—twisting into something neither of us could escape.

The silence between us thickened, vibrating with everything we refused to say. The Maserati purred beneath us, a beast caged in steel and speed, but neither of us moved to break the fragile thread of quiet.

Finally, Sienna spoke, her voice low, cutting. "You think kidnapping me makes you any better than the monsters waiting at the altar?"

"Saving your life isn't kidnapping," I said coolly, eyes pinned to the road.

She barked a humorless laugh. "Right. Because being forced into a marriage with a man I despise is so much better than being forced into a marriage with a stranger."

A muscle jumped in my jaw. "I'm not a stranger."

"No," she snapped. "You're worse. You're the man my father warned me about."

I flicked a glance at her, meeting the storm in her eyes. "Smart man, your father. Maybe you should've listened to him for once."

Her hands curled into fists again, nails biting into her palms. "I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

Something dangerous twisted inside me—admiration or fury, I couldn't tell. Maybe both. And beneath it, a flash of raw want I had no business feeling at the image of her on her knees

"You're not going to die," I said quietly, almost to myself. "Not while you're under my protection."

She scoffed. "Protection?" she spat. "Or possession?"

The words hit harder than they should have.

I forced my voice steady. "Does it matter if it keeps you breathing?"

Another silence fell, colder this time. A thousand unsaid things crackled between us like dry tinder waiting for a spark.

I gripped the wheel harder, wrestling down the instinct to pull the car over, drag her into my arms, and make her understand—make her see this wasn't about empire or power.

It was about survival.

Hers.

And mine.

I couldn't take it anymore.

With a guttural curse under my breath, I yanked the wheel and swung the car sharply into a deserted alley, the tires shrieking against the pavement. The sudden jolt made Sienna grab the door handle, her breath catching in her throat.

The headlights cut a harsh path through the darkness, throwing long, jagged shadows across the crumbling brick walls.

Before she could speak, I turned toward her, trapping her with the full force of my body and will.

"You think you're safer without me?" I growled, my voice low and ragged. "You think running makes you free?"

Sienna lifted her chin, stubborn to the last, but her pulse thrummed wildly at her throat, betraying the fear she refused to show.

I leaned closer, the heat between us coiling tight, suffocating. Her scent invaded my lungs, her defiance scraping against my already fraying control.

One more inch and I’d ruin us both.

One more second and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

"Fight me all you want, principessa," I rasped, brushing a knuckle along her jawline, savoring the way she flinched and then stilled, breathing hard.

I tilted my mouth toward hers, close enough that she could feel the rough scrape of my voice against her skin.

"It won’t save you. Not from me."