Anónimo

The furniture district is my personal hell. I don’t know my ass from an ottoman. But when a hot designer comes to my rescue, I realize my problems are bigger than the house I’m trying to furnish.

In my defense, I was left alone with a bottle of single-malt and a lifelong penchant for protecting my baby sister. Still, that's no excuse to send 10 drunk-texts on why her hasty marriage would be a mistake. If only I had just texted my sister. But nope. I accidentally sent the message to her, her groom, and his super hot wingman. I also used the phrase “super hot wingman”, so I’d like to die now.

One year. That’s how long I’ve wanted Francesca. I’ve worked my way up the ranks, dedicating my life to the syndicate while I tried easing her fear of men. The time has finally come for me to claim her.

My father is dying, and I’ve been called back to Brooklyn to take my place as the head of the Italian syndicate. After a seven-year absence, my first test of loyalty is to marry the granddaughter of the Irish mob’s leader. I may not want a wife, but I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm her.