Alessia’s POV
If someone told me a year ago that I’d be getting married to Leonardo Ricci—a Mafia psycho who probably bathes in blood and gasoline, I would’ve laughed so hard I'd choke on air. But today? I was wearing a white dress that clung to my body like guilt, heels I could barely walk in, and sitting in the back of a black armored SUV next to his friend who kept cleaning his gun like he was preparing for war and maybe he was.
“I still can’t believe I'm doing this,” I muttered under my breath, clutching the signed contract like it would choke me less if I held it tighter. Leo asked me to take it like my life depended on it and so wondered why. “God must hate me.”
“Sweetheart,” Tyler smirked, not looking up from the silencer he was screwing on, “God left the building when you agree
