Married to the Mafia Heir

Siena Blake wasn't used to marble floors, gold chandeliers, or being summoned like some pawn in a chess game. But here she was, standing in the Cruz estate, the heart of Denver's underground empire. She adjusted the strap of her worn-out bag, eyes scanning the cold, intimidating space. Everything screamed wealth and power. It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a trap. Then he walked in. Alex Cruz. Eighteen. Mafia royalty. Arrogant. Too good looking for his own sanity. His eyes, sharp and icy, swept over her like she was something to be inspected, not respected. "You're shorter than I expected", he said flatly, sitting without offering a handshake. "And late". Siena didn't flinch. "Sorry. I had to walk past five bodyguards and an ego the size of Texas". His mouth twitched almost a smile but it faded. "Let's make this quick. Our fathers agreed. We're getting married next week. Publicly, of course. You sign the papers, smile at cameras, and pretend you're obsessed with me". "Obsessed?" she raised a brow. "Trust me, I've met cockroaches with more charm". That got him. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Listen, college girl. This is business. My reputation needs saving. Your family needs money. We play our parts, or everything burns ". She paused. Her parents debts were drowning them. She couldn't afford pride. Not today. "Fine", she said. "But I have rules". His smirk returned. "So do I". “Rule number one,” Siena said, crossing her arms. “Don’t touch me unless the cameras are rolling.” Alek blinked, as if surprised she wasn’t already melting at his feet. “Touch you? Please. I’ve got better things to do.” “Glad we’re clear,” she shot back. He leaned back, folding his arms. “Rule number two?” “I don’t lie. Don’t expect me to cover your messes if it risks my life or dignity.” His eyes hardened. “You're in the mafia now, college girl. Everything’s a risk.” “I’m not in the mafia,” she said. “I’m just… rented.” The words tasted bitter. But Alek didn’t flinch. He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re tougher than you look.” She shrugged. “You’re more full of yourself than I expected.” A knock at the door interrupted the tension. A man in a dark suit entered — tall, sharp-eyed, with the presence of someone who gave orders more than he followed them. “Alek. Your father’s waiting.” Alek stood without a glance at Siena. “Come on, wife.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that until I have a ring and a reason.” They walked down the long hallway in silence. The house — no, mansion — was filled with shadows and secrets. Siena felt out of place in her sneakers and thrifted jeans. They entered a vast study where a man with silver hair and piercing dark eyes stood behind a desk. Dominic Cruz — the mafia kingpin himself. “Siena Blake,” he greeted with a firm nod. “You look like your mother.” Siena blinked. “You knew my mom?” He ignored the question. “This marriage is non-negotiable. You will both sign the contract. You’ll be seen in public, post photos, attend events. In one year, we dissolve it. You’ll leave with your family’s debts cleared.” “And if I refuse?” she asked. Dominic’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Then your father’s shop burns tonight. And his name disappears from every bank record by morning.” Her stomach dropped. Alek, to his credit, looked away. For once, even he couldn’t meet her eyes. She swallowed hard and nodded. “Where do I sign?” One Week Later Siena stood at the altar in a designer gown she didn’t pick, next to a boy she didn’t like, surrounded by people who would probably kill for less than she was worth. Alek looked bored in his black suit, hair perfectly styled, jaw sharp. The press watched from the corners, cameras flashing. “Do you take this man—” the priest began. Siena glanced at Alek. He didn’t smile. Neither did she. “I do,” she said. “I do,” he echoed. They kissed — or pretended to. His lips barely brushed hers before he turned away. To the world, it looked like love. To Siena, it felt like war.