I Woke Up in the Mafia Boss’s Bed by Mistake and His Family Planned Our Wedding Before I Could Escape

Delivery trucks from Milan, Paris, and New York lined the massive circular driveway. Florists were unloading thousands of deep red roses and dark green ivy to decorate the Chicago Grand Ballroom. Armed security guards patrolled the perimeter in shifts, their earpieces buzzing constantly as Dante coordinated intelligence reports regarding Salvatore Marino’s recent movements.

I sat at the mahogany desk in the library, staring at a stack of seating charts, utterly overwhelmed.

"Breathe, Harper," a voice said from the doorway.

Dante walked in, holding two cups of black coffee. He set one down on the desk in front of me before dropping into the leather armchair opposite.

"I can't do this," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "There are four hundred people coming to this wedding. Half of them are FBI informants, and the other half are mob enforcers. What am I wearing? Where am I standing? What if I trip over my veil and take down the entire altar?"

Dante chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Relax. Dominic has assigned three personal bodyguards to shadow you twenty-four hours a day. Even if you trip, Matteo will catch you before you hit the floor."

"That's not reassuring, Dante. That's terrifying."

Dante's smile faded slightly, his expression turning unusually serious. "Harper... I know this whole thing started as a lunatic accident. And I know my cousin can be overbearing, intense, and terrifyingly possessive."

"That's putting it mildly," I muttered.

"But look at him," Dante said quietly. "In the four years since Dominic took over the family, I have never seen him smile the way he smiles when you're in the room. You grounded him. You gave him an anchor in a life where everything is built on sand. Don't underestimate what you mean to him."

I looked up, surprised by the genuine warmth in Dante's eyes. Before I could respond, the heavy library doors swung open.

Dominic walked in. He looked tired, dark shadows beneath his amber eyes, but the moment he saw me, his expression softened instantly.

"Leave us, Dante," Dominic commanded without taking his eyes off me.

Dante rolled his eyes, standing up and smoothing his suit jacket. "Always kicking me out of my own office. I'll check the perimeter reports." He strolled out, closing the doors behind him.

Dominic walked over to the desk, leaning down to place his hands on either side of my chair, caging me in. "Are you holding up?"

"Your cousin has been giving me pep talks about how you're a reformed monster who loves me," I said dryly, though my heart was doing flips against my ribs.

A faint smirk touched the corner of Dominic's mouth. "Dante talks too much. But he's not wrong about everything."

He reached out, taking my hand and pulling me up from the chair. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar and smoke.

"The wedding is in five days," I whispered against his collarbone. "Are we actually going to go through with this?"

"Only if you want to," Dominic said softly, his hand gently stroking my hair. "From day one, Harper, you've had an out. If you tell me right now that you want a car to take you to the airport, I'll put you on a private jet to anywhere in the world, and no one will ever touch you."

I pulled back slightly, looking up into his intense amber eyes.

I thought about my old life—the endless debt, the brutal shifts under Brenda Kline, the constant, crushing weight of survival. And then I thought about Dominic—the man who owned half of Chicago, yet looked at me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the universe.

I reached up, my hand resting gently against his scarred cheek.