Married to the Enemy (Power & Passion #6)

1. Chapter 1

This was quite possibly the stupidest idea she’d ever come up with.

Mia Calvino eyed the man hunched over on the splintered park bench, his broad shoulders bowed as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. His fingers dug into his tangled hair, the posture of someone frayed to the edge of breaking.

Mia’s stomach twisted. What had driven him to this place?

The haunted curve of his spine suggested more than simple exhaustion.

Maybe it was the cold, damp nights spent on unforgiving concrete.

Or maybe it was something darker—loss etched into every tense line of his body.

Had he just buried someone he loved? Had a war left him hollowed out, abandoned by the country he’d fought for?

Or was it guilt gnawing at him, the kind that never loosened its grip?

Whatever the reason, he looked like a man one breath away from shattering. And that made him dangerous. Or perfect. She couldn’t decide which.

Because she knew that feeling—had lived it herself.

The bone-deep helplessness of knowing you couldn’t fight back, not really, against the kind of power that pinned you down and ground you into dust. She’d tangled her fingers into her hair the same way, trying to hold herself together while her father’s shadow pressed in from every direction.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t turn away now. She recognized the despair in him because it was the same darkness that had once almost swallowed her whole.

He looked desperate.

Exactly the type of man she needed.

Her pulse thudded painfully in her ears as she turned away, staring off into the distance.

This was insane! What was she doing? What kind of person even thought about something like this? But what other choice did she have? Twenty-six years old, and thanks to her father’s merciless reach, her options had narrowed to this single, desperate path.

If she was going to save her nonna, she had to do this. Fast!

Her lips pressed together, sealing in the tremor that wanted to escape.

She rubbed her palm nervously along the thigh of her jeans, the rasp of the worn denim grounding her for a heartbeat.

The chill of early spring slipped under her plain blue T-shirt, but she forced her body to be still, refusing to shiver.

If she gave in to weakness now, she’d never go through with it.

Hesitation was dangerous. Hesitation was lethal.

“Just do it,” she whispered, the words misting faintly in the cool air. “He’ll probably laugh in my face. Or tell me to go to hell. Then this ridiculous plan will die the humiliating death it deserves.”

That would almost be a relief, wouldn’t it? If he said no, she could walk away, pretend this moment of insanity had never happened, and Mia could crawl back into hiding. But then… her nonna. The drugs. The fog. The danger. Walking away meant losing her forever.

Her feet still refused to move.

The man was a picture of ruin: an ill-fitting filthy canvas jacket sagged off his hunched frame, jeans dark with unidentifiable stains, military boots laced only halfway as if he’d stopped caring midway through the task.

His hair fell in unkempt tangles down to a scruffy beard, a wild mask that made him look feral, untamed.

A man the world avoided, the kind society trained itself not to see.

He was perfect.

And completely wrong? No! Not wrong! She needed to use this man to save her grandmother! It was the only way!

She turned again, desperate to find another way. The idea of using someone like this was wrong, but she hadn’t come up with a different idea that would allow her to save her nonna.

Both truths warred inside her, leaving her trapped, a knot of dread and determination twisting tighter with every breath.

On the one hand, he was perfect, because he was invisible. Perfect, because no one would ever imagine she’d come looking for him. Perfect, because if he agreed…

She cut the thought short. Better not to think about after.

Drawing a shaky breath, she stepped forward, approaching cautiously, as though he were an unpredictable wild animal. Each step was measured, her instincts screaming to retreat even as urgency urged her forward.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her voice trembled despite her attempt at friendly calm.

No response. Just the restless wind rattling through the budding branches overhead, scattering pale petals across the damp ground. A few clung to the wet picnic table before sliding off with the next gust, as though even the flowers didn’t want to linger too close to him.

She swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming, the damp air sharp in her lungs. Somewhere in the park, a child laughed, the sound oddly jarring against the silence surrounding the man.

He looked dangerous. He looked broken. He looked like exactly the kind of man who might say yes without asking why.

She needed a husband.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now.

Another swirl of petals skittered across her shoes, sticking to the damp denim at her ankles like ghostly fingers trying to hold her back. She almost listened to them. Almost.

“Right,” she muttered under her breath, steeling her resolve as her stomach twisted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Approaching carefully, ready to pull back at the first sign of danger, Mia stepped closer. “Excuse me, sir?” she tried again, sounding far too timid for her preference. She needed to be clear, firm, professional—state her case, offer him the money, get this over with.

“What?” he snarled, barely lifting his head to look at her.

The word cracked through the chilly spring air like a whip.

Mia flinched instinctively, her heart thudding in her chest. For a split second she worried he might lunge at her, his hunched shoulders shifting like a threatened animal about to strike.

He sounded less like a man and more like an angry bear with a thorn buried deep in his paw—raw, irritated, and dangerous.

Her pride bristled at the way her nerves betrayed her, and she straightened her spine. Slightly indignant, but still every inch the desperate woman she was, Mia forced herself forward another step. “I wanted to offer you a deal.”

He looked at her sharply, and his glare speared through her. She froze, stunned by what she saw.

Those weren’t the bloodshot, yellowed eyes she had prepared herself for.

No cloudy film of addiction, no dull haze of hopelessness.

Instead, twin shards of clear blue cut into her—eyes so startlingly bright, so unexpectedly alive, that she forgot to breathe.

Rimmed by lashes darker than coal and framed by heavy brows, they looked wrong on this downtrodden man in a filthy jacket and half-laced boots. Too vivid. Too… magnetic.

The scraggly beard and tangled hair fit her mental picture of a man society ignored.

The dirt smudge on his cheek, the grime on his hands—she’d expected all of that.

But not this. Not eyes that could have belonged to a movie star or a soldier in a glossy recruitment poster.

Eyes that held her captive, daring her to come closer even as common sense screamed at her to run.

Her chest tightened. What the man didn’t understand—what he couldn’t understand—was that she was desperate. And time was running out. If her father discovered she was nearby, if he learned what she was attempting, he would…!

No! She shut down the thought before it could take shape. She couldn’t bear to imagine what he might do if he ever found her.

“What do you want, lady?” the man snapped again, his voice sharper this time, angrier.

Mia flinched, heat rushing to her cheeks.

The reaction shamed her as much as it startled her.

She’d met homeless people many times before in her wandering years, and they had always been kind, sweet even, despite the weight of their circumstances.

This man was neither. His tone was razor sharp, his presence filled the air, and suddenly the whole idea seemed beyond reckless. Maybe this was a mistake.

“Ne… never mind,” she murmured, retreat tugging at her feet. She turned, ready to abandon the insanity of her plan.

“Lady, are you in danger?”

The question stopped her cold.

His voice had softened, the snarl gone, replaced with something almost gentle. Concern, real and unexpected, wove through the words. That change—the sudden shift from feral beast to quiet protector—startled her more than the barked anger had.

Her gaze slid back to him, catching again on those impossible eyes. The absurd thought slipped into her mind—an image of brushing back the wild hair from his face, soothing him, soothing herself. The instinct was so ridiculous she clenched her fists to drive it away.

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter, but she forced it out, her voice steadier than she felt.

Again, she tried to turn away, her steps heavy with both regret and relief.

But his voice followed her, low and certain, wrapping around her like a promise. “If you need help, then tell me what’s wrong. I can fix it. I promise.”

Her feet carried her backward before her mind could catch up, each step heavier than the last. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, she turned away from the bench. Defeat pressed down on her spine like lead.

What had she been thinking? That she could just walk up to a stranger—a homeless stranger—and hand him her future, her freedom, her safety?

It was ridiculous. Worse, it was incredibly dangerous.

She should go back to hiding, figure out another way.

Except there wasn’t another way. Not in the time she had left.

Her nonna’s face flashed in her mind, pale and slack under the haze of whatever drugs were keeping her compliant. Every moment Mia hesitated was another moment her father tightened his grip.

“Hey, lady!”

The man’s call cut across the empty park, halting her mid-step. Slowly, almost unwillingly, she turned back. He was staring at her, those startling blue eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in his world.