THE MAFIA ACCIDENTAL BRIDE

*THE MAFIA KING'S ACCIDENTAL BRIDE* *Chapter 1* One red light. One crash. One mafia king bleeding on my hood. I was late to my night shift at St. Mary’s ER. Again. The rain was coming down in sheets and my scrubs were already in the passenger seat. Twelve hours of blood and screams waited for me, and I couldn’t afford to be late again. HR was already watching me. I ran it. The sound of metal folding in on itself is something you don’t forget. My Honda spun, hit something solid, and stopped. Airbag to the face. Taste of copper. When the world stopped spinning, I saw it. A black Bugatti. Mine was wrapped around it like paper. The driver’s door opened. A man stepped out with an umbrella. Black suit. Black shoes. Not one drop of rain touched him. Like the storm was afraid of him. He came to my window and opened my door. "Are you dead?" His voice was quiet. That was worse than yelling. I coughed. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m a nurse, I have to—" He grabbed my chin with two cold fingers and turned my face toward the streetlight. Dark eyes. A scar cutting through his left eyebrow. "I asked if you were dead, Ms. Carter." My blood went ice cold. "How do you know my name?" He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. "Because your license plate is registered to Aria Carter, RN. And because you just totaled my car worth more than your hospital." Ten minutes later I was in the passenger seat of his car. It didn’t smell like rain. It smelled like leather, expensive cologne, and something metallic underneath. Blood maybe. He didn’t call the cops. He didn’t call an ambulance. He just looked at me like I was a math problem. "Option one," he said. "I press charges. Vehicular damage. Reckless driving. You lose your nursing license and go to jail." "Please," I whispered. My hands were shaking. "I need that job. I have—" "Option two." He cut me off. "You marry me. One year. You live in my house. You play my wife at every event. You keep your mouth shut." He paused. "At the end, you get two million dollars and a clean record." I stared at him. "Are you out of your mind?" "No. I’m Matteo Romano." He leaned forward. "And I need a wife by Friday. Or the Commission votes me out." Matteo Romano. The name hit me like a second crash. Mafia King of New York. Twenty-eight. On every news channel for the wrong reasons. Feared. "Why me?" My voice cracked. "Because you’re already in trouble. And if you’re going to be a problem, you’ll be my problem. Inside my house. Where I can see you." He pulled a contract from the glove box. It was already printed. My name was already on it. "Sign it. Or I make one call and your nursing license is gone by morning." I looked at the scrubs in my backseat. Twelve years of school. Student loans. The ER waiting for me. Jail. Or marriage to a monster. I signed. Matteo took the pen from me. "Good girl." The words made something in my stomach flip and I hated him for it. The Romano estate looked like a fortress. Iron gates. Men with guns. Marble that echoed. A woman waited in the foyer. Older. Diamonds. Ice in her eyes. "Matteo. Who is this?" "My wife," Matteo said without looking at me. "Aria Carter. Starting tonight." The woman looked me up and down. Wet hair. Bruised arms from the airbag. Scrubs under my coat. "You brought home hospital trash." Matteo’s jaw ticked. "Watch your mouth. This is Mrs. Romano." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me upstairs. The room was bigger than my apartment. Cold. Empty. "You stay here," he said. "Alone. Until the wedding on Friday." I nodded because I couldn’t speak. At the door he stopped. "Four rules, Aria. Don’t lie to me. Don’t run. Don’t touch anyone else." His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second. "And when I’m hurt, you’re the only one who touches me. You’re a nurse. Use it." "Because you belong to me now." The door closed. The lock clicked. I slid down the wall and tried not to cry. At 2 AM there was a knock. Matteo stood there in a white shirt, top buttons undone, hair still wet. "Can’t sleep?" I shook my head. He came in and sat on the floor across from me. "Talk." "About what?" "Why you were speeding." I told him about the ER. About the double shifts. About how if I was late again I’d be fired. He listened without interrupting. When I finished he just said, "You won’t be late anymore." "I have to work." "You’ll work for me now." Then he left and left the door unlocked. The next morning at breakfast his mother was there. And another woman. Blonde. Red lips. Hanging on Matteo’s arm like she paid the mortgage. "Matteo, baby," the blonde said. "I heard you got married. To a nurse?" Matteo didn’t look at me. "Camila. Go home." "She’s nobody. I’ve been with you for two years." Something in me snapped. I stood up. Matteo stood too and pulled me against him. His hand landed on my waist, firm and possessive. "She’s my wife," he said, voice low enough that everyone heard. "You will show her respect." Camila stormed out. Matteo turned to me. "Why did you stand?" "I don’t know." "Liar." He leaned in so only I could hear. "You’re jealous. I like that." Three days later I was in the kitchen when guards carried him in. Shirt torn. Blood on his side. "Get out," Matteo told everyone. They all left. Except me. "What happened?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Work." "Let me see." He grabbed my wrist. "You’re the only one who touches me. Remember?" I cleaned the wound. Stitched it. My hands were steady because this was what I knew. Blood didn’t scare me. When I finished he caught my hand. "You’re good at this." "It’s my job." "No." His thumb brushed my knuckles. "It’s you." Then he let go. The day before the wedding he took me for a dress fitting. Fifty thousand dollars of white silk that felt like chains. "You look like mine," he said. "I feel like a hostage." "You are." His fingers brushed my hair back. "But you’re my hostage." That night he came to my room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Drink." We sat on the floor. "Why not just kill me?" I asked. "Dead nurses cause problems. Married ones don’t." He drank. "And you looked at me like I was a patient. Not a monster." He stood to leave. "Tomorrow you say I do. And your life belongs to me." The church was full of armed men in suits. I walked down the aisle in white. Matteo waited in black. "Do you take this man—" I looked at him. The scar. The dark eyes. The man who could end my career with one call. "I do." "I do." The ring was cold and heavy. His kiss was possessive and final. As we walked out he leaned down. "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romano." My phone buzzed in my clutch. Unknown number. _Ask him about the patient who died in Room 4 last month. Ask him why._ I looked up. Matteo was watching me. And he saw it on my face. "What is it?" "Nothing." "Liar," he said softly. And he didn’t believe me. The contract ends in 365 days. My heart wasn’t sure it would survive that long.