A FAKE BRIDE FOR THE MAFIA DON

“You look like her,” my father whispered, forcing me into my twin sister’s wedding dress, but he didn't warn me that I was marrying a monster. My twin sister ran away, leaving me to marry Luciano Moretti, a ruthless Mafia Don. I walked down the aisle, trembling, praying he wouldn't notice the switch. But the moment he kissed me at the altar, his tongue invaded my mouth, demanding and possessive, tasting me like I was his property. I thought I could hide the truth. But on our wedding night, he walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel, water dripping down his sculpted abs and the distinct V-line that pointed to his heavy manhood. He cornered me against the bed. “You smell different, wifey,” he whispered, his hand sliding up my thigh, his thumb brushing dangerously close to my wet heat. I tried to push him away, but the next morning, he decided to test me. He pushed a plate of peanut butter bagels toward me—food that would kill me, but was my sister's favorite. “Eat,” he commanded, his eyes dropping to my chest where my nipples were hard against the silk robe. “Or do you want me to feed you something else?” His gaze darkened, shifting to my lips, and I knew he wasn't talking about food. He knows I'm a fake. And he’s going to enjoy every second of punishing me for it.