Page 13 of Sinful Bride

I'd also have a wife who hates me.

I think of her again, and the way her dark eyes flashed when she looked at me. The way my body responded to her even as she was cutting me down.

The way I fantasized about her last night.

Fuck.

"This is a serious offer," Enzo says, watching me carefully. "But it's not one I'll make twice. You have a choice, Mr. Murphy. You can accept my daughter's hand in marriage, prove your commitment to our traditions, and secure peace between our families. Or you can refuse, and we'll settle this the old-fashioned way."

He's offering me marriage or war. And he knows which one I'll choose. He knows I can't afford a war right now. Not when I'm still trying to prove myself and fill shoes that are too big for me.

He's backed me into a corner. And he knows it.

"I need time to think about this," I say, though we both know I don't have a choice.

"Of course." Enzo's smile is all teeth. "Take the rest of the day. But I'll need your answer by tonight. This offer expires at midnight."

He stands, buttoning his suit jacket. The bodyguards move with him, flanking him as he prepares to leave. "One more thing," Enzo says, pausing at the edge of the table. "Elena doesn't know about this yet. I'll inform her of the arrangement once you've accepted. She's a dutiful daughter—she'll do what's expected of her."

A dutiful daughter. Like she's a piece of property to be transferred from one man to another. The thought makes my stomach turn. But this is their world. These are their rules.

And if I want to survive in it, I have to play by them.

Enzo leaves without another word, his bodyguards trailing behind him. I sit alone at the table, staring at the untouched wineglass in front of me, my mind spinning.

Marry Elena Capetti. The woman who looked at me like I was dirt on her shoe. The woman who made it clear I didn't belong in her world. The woman I can't stop thinking about, even though I should.

The woman who would become my wife.

I stand up, and my legs feel unsteady as I walk through the restaurant, past the hostess, and out into the fresh air.

Cormac is waiting by the car, his expression tense. "How'd it go?"

I look at him—this man who's followed me from the motorcycle club to the mafia, who's trusted me to lead even when I didn't trust myself. Who deserves better than a boss who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

"He made me an offer," I say.

"What kind of offer?"

I take a breath and let it out slowly.

"He wants me to marry his daughter."

4

ELENA

My father's office smells like leather and cigars, a scent so familiar it usually brings comfort. Today, it makes my stomach turn.

"You'll marry Declan Murphy in one week."

The words hang in the air between us. I'm standing in front of his massive mahogany desk, my hands clasped in front of me, my posture perfect. Years of training keep my spine straight, my chin level, and my expression composed. But inside, everything is tilting sideways.

"I don't understand." My voice comes out steady and calm, nothing like the crashing panic that's starting to flood through me. "Why would you⁠—"

"You don't need to understand." My father doesn't look up from the papers he's signing. His pen scratches across the page. "You need to obey."

The dismissal stings sharply. I've always known my place in this family, as a daughter and an asset. A future wife to whoever serves our interests best. But I thought I'd have more time. I thought when the moment came, it would be to someone appropriate. Someone from our world. Someone who understood the traditions, the expectations, the unspoken rules that govern everything we do.