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“You have a fiancée?” Alessandra was genuinely shocked. After all, he had just married her.
“I can’t tell if you’re playing with me or just this fucking stupid! I was supposed to marry her today, not you.”
Alessandra’s heart sank. It was one thing to marry a stranger and call him her husband, but it was another when that man hated her. An angry retort rose in her throat, but Drake cut her off before she had the chance to speak.
“What the fuck happened to Riley Watson? What did you do to her?”
***
Chapter Two
Thanks to Drake Walker’s hard work, his career was at its peak. He achieved more by thirty-six than most men in his profession. He was prosecuting Marcello, the son of notorious mafia boss Anthony Russo, for arson and murder. Winning the trial—heralded as the case of his career—would make his dreams of becoming an assistant U.S. attorney come true.
Marcello was looking at a thirty-five to eighty-year prison sentence if convicted. Drake thrived on law and order and was determined to see a Russo pay for his crimes. His drive left little time for hobbies or planning a wedding. His only contribution was paying the invoices as they rolled in for the two-hundred-thousand-dollar wedding day.
Drake began dating Riley in middle school, and they’d dated through most of high school. It was never love for him. He broke things off when he left to study abroad and never once regretted the decision.
Riley came from old money. And like Drake, she was no stranger to the status and obligations that came along with it. However, her parents fell victim to embezzlement and lost their fortune. Marriage to Drake would’ve elevated her family status once again.
Socialites thrive in the same circles, and the two reconnected at a charity gala. They rekindled their romance at Bitsy Walker’s strong urging. Always the dutiful son, he thought maybe this time would be different between him and Riley and proposed a couple of months later.
His fiancée was a free spirit and moved abroad for a work opportunity a few weeks later. They hadn't seen each other in the year since she'd left. She had changed in the twenty years they'd been apart, and there was no love lost when she contacted him two weeks ago to call off the wedding.
Drake and Riley had never experienced intimacy as teens and, though engaged, hadn’t consummated their relationship. They were settling for a marriage of convenience, not love or kink. Being aware of Drake’s sexual proclivities, Riley had suggested he could develop a relationship with a submissive outside their marriage as long as he was discreet with his interactions and avoided scandal.
It should’ve been a perfect arrangement until a stunning redhead entered the courtroom and sat dutifully on the defense’s side. Drake intentionally turned his back on the stand to watch her, eyes rapt with attention. On more than one occasion, he sank into those doe-like emerald eyes, indulging in a private fantasy.
Drake wasn’t a cheater. The ring he’d placed on Riley’s finger meant commitment—which included fidelity, regardless of if he remained unfulfilled. With her calling off their engagement and someone else wearing his ring, Drake was riddled with emotions he couldn’t name.
Alessandra Russo was the one woman he craved but could never have. She plagued his dreams and left him so enraged with need that his cock was almost chafed. Now that they were married, would her green eyes shimmer beneath those dark lashes as her ruby lips wrapped around it?
His body shook with fury standing before his unwitting wife. He’d never forgotten how her luscious curves felt pressed against his body, and he’d never mistake her for Riley. Still, he’d convinced himself that the fiancée he hadn’t seen for a year was beneath the veil.
Drake got caught up in the moment at the altar when Alessandra was so close he could smell her amber and jasmine perfume. A fantasy slipped off his tongue before he could stop himself, and he swore he could see her blush.
He said yes. He claimed her as his. In the cold depths of his soul, his beast roared with rapture. So why was he so pissed?
She should’ve never been his bride. They were a match made in hell. Looking but not touching was all he was allowed. Alessandra stood before him as his wife, a conflict of interest, as he was now prosecuting his brother-in-law.
He needed to fuck her brains out and leave her screaming, shaking, and begging for more, but he couldn’t consummate this marriage. They would have it annulled immediately if he wanted to salvage his career.
Until then, he would play the only card he could and pray Alessandra never discovered the truth.
“Where is my fiancée?” he asked again. “I was supposed to marry Riley today.”
“It’s a funny story, actually.” Anthony Russo, a man in his mid-fifties with a full head of gray hair and goatee, walked into the bridal suite. His dark beady eyes were cold and calculating even as he smiled.
Anthony was dressed more appropriately for a funeral in his black three-piece suit and tie. Dons never wore color when conducting business. Dressing in black was seen as a symbol of power and a way to blend into this lifestyle.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Russo?”
Drake knew he’d locked the door behind them and wondered if Anthony had the key. He kicked himself for letting his guard down. Of course, a woman of Alessandra’s status wouldn’t be married without the protection of her father. Armed guards likely sat in the pews to ensure Tony’s plan went off without a hitch.
“Hello to you too, son.Congratulazioni on your nuptials. I came to deliver my wedding gift to the blushing bride and groom.”
Anthony pulled an envelope from his breast pocket. Drake snatched it from the man's hand, pulled out a letter, and read it aloud.
Drake,
