My Wedding Mafia Style (Wedding Season #2)

1. Chapter 1

Lucy

Iknew it was a mistake the second I stepped into the wedding reception.

We had just completed group photographs with the bride and groom.

Still grasping the bridesmaid bouquet, I realize I’m more than ready for a drink and step into the enormous room where at least two hundred guests will celebrate my cousin, Celia, wedding.

The decor is stunning with soft ivory roses woven with greenery. Each table looks fit for a royal banquet. Truly, it’s like something out of a magazine spread.

Music plays from the DJ that is elegant and just loud enough to make conversation feel intimate. Celia, who looks like she stepped straight out of a bridal fantasy, glowing in a way that makes me wonder if love really does that to a person.

None of those elements are why this is one huge mistake. It’s because of him … my ex-boyfriend.

Derek Caldwell stands ten feet to my left, a champagne flute in his hand and another woman at his side like she’s always been there. It’s only been three months since we broke up. My stomach drops before I can stop it.

Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be?

Celia mentioned inviting “a few friends from the city,” and Derek always did have a way of inserting himself into the right circles.

I just didn’t expect him to show up looking like that.

He’s in a tailored suit, sporting an easy smile, and I’m sure he knows that I was part of the wedding. I just didn’t know he was.

Wonderful. Fantastic. Nothing says “celebrate eternal love” like running into the man who treated my heart like a hotel robe he could use once and leave on the floor.

I hate his fake smile. It’s the same one that used to make me feel like I was the only person in his world. Now I know better. Now I see the cracks in it. Still… it hits me like a bomb to see him here.

The woman beside him leans in, laughing at something he says, her hand brushing his arm like it’s already familiar. She’s beautiful in that effortless way—sleek hair, perfect posture, the kind of confidence I used to think I needed to compete with.

I take a slow sip of champagne, even though I don’t remember picking up the glass.

You’re fine, Lucy. You are absolutely, completely fine.

Until Derek’s gaze lifts and lands directly on me. He’s probably planned this encounter in his mind for days. He wants to shock and surprise me. God, I hate that look he just gave me. I also hate that part of me that used to try and earn his approval.

I turn around so quick, looking across the room at … nothing.

Not tonight. Tonight, I am not the girl he left behind. Tonight… I just need him to believe that.

My eyes scan the room, heart picking up speed, searching for … what? A distraction? A shield? A miracle? And that’s when I see him.

He’s sitting at a round table near the center of the room, slightly apart from the louder clusters of guests. Dark suit. No tie. Collar open just enough to suggest he doesn’t care about the rules everyone else is following. He’s not laughing. Not talking much. Just observing.

There’s something about the way he sits—like the space belongs to him without him needing to claim it. Broad shoulders relaxed, one arm draped casually along the back of his chair, long fingers curled around a glass of liquid darker than champagne. Whiskey, maybe.

Something about him feels dangerous in the way expensive cars and bad ideas are dangerous. Completely unnecessary. Hard to look away from.

He looks like the kind of man who owns cufflinks, enemies, and possibly a private island.

But I know—instinctively—that he’s exactly what I need.

Derek is still watching me. I’m not looking at him but I feel his eyes on my back. He’s waiting for something, probably figuring out how to piss me off. He wants to make sure I see that he’s not alone in the world — like me.

Yes, he’s waiting to do something. I feel it and it’s time for me to turn the tables on him. Fine. If he wants a show, I’ll give him one.

Before I can overthink it, I set my glass down and start walking.

Each step feels steadier than the last, like my body has decided on something my brain hasn’t caught up to yet.

The music grows and laughter rises somewhere behind me.

But it fades into the background as I close the distance between me and the stranger at the table.

He notices me when I’m a few feet away. Those dark eyes lift, locking onto mine with a focus that nearly stops me in my tracks. He holds a soft smirk with his mouth and cocks his head to one side with curiosity.

Too late to turn back now. I reach him, place one hand lightly on his shoulder—

—and before he can say a word, I slide onto his lap.

There’s a split second where everything stills. The table. The banquet hall. The air between us.

His body goes rigid beneath me, solid and warm. I feel the exact moment his brain tries to catch up with what’s happening. I don’t give him time.

My fingers curl into the front of his jacket, and I lean in, pressing my lips to his. It’s not a soft kiss. It’s not hesitant or unsure. It’s deliberate and bold.

For half a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. And then his hand comes to my waist. He grasps me firmly, pulling me closer like he’s not just going along with it … he’s taking over.

The kiss deepens in a way I did not plan for.

Heat sparks low in my stomach, unexpected and immediate.

I almost forget why I’m doing this at all.

His mouth moves against mine with confidence, his thumb pressing lightly into my hip as if he’s anchoring me there, as if I belong exactly where I’ve put myself.

Oh.

Oh, this was a mistake.

Or maybe the best decision I’ve made lately.

I pull back just enough to breathe, my lips still hovering near his, my heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with Derek anymore.

Up close, he’s even more striking. Dark hair, strong jaw, eyes that are no longer just curious—they’re sharp now, assessing, like he’s recalculating the entire situation in real time.

“Hi,” I murmur, breathless despite myself. “I’m so sorry, but I need you to pretend you’re my boyfriend for about… five minutes.”

One dark brow lifts.

“Do you now?”

His voice is low in timbre and controlled. His expression is one of amusement. He’s not even slightly thrown off by this sudden encounter. No, he seems entertained.

I chance a glance over my shoulder. Derek is staring. Somehow, this delights me.

I turn back to the man beneath me, forcing a bright, convincing smile.

“Actually,” I correct softly, “make that ten.”

Something shifts in his expression then, something deeper and reckless. Something signals in me that I’ve stepped into a game he already knows how to win.

His grip tightens just slightly at my waist.

“And if I say no?” he asks.

I meet his gaze, refusing to back down now that I’ve started this.

“You won’t,” I say.

Because I need him not to. Derek is probably still watching. I’ve changed the rules since I stepped into this room. Now, I actually feel like I’m in control of the emotional story being written … not my ex.

The corner of his mouth lifts, but it’s not a full smile.

“Five minutes,” he says quietly. “We’ll see about ten.”

Just like that, I have a boyfriend. I just don’t know yet what it’s going to cost me.