Captive Vows by mckenziebritton116 at Inkitt

Summary

Logline: A restless nineteen-year-old forced to play the good sister at a mafia wedding catches the eye of a Brazilian-Italian crime boss—and discovers too late that when a Cartel wants you, no means nothing. Summary: Nineteen-year-old Alessia has spent her life in the shadow of her perfect older sister, Mary. So when Mary announces her lavish wedding to the Marchillo family—one of New York's most dangerous mafia dynasties—Alessia braces for a week of suffocating etiquette, cold smiles, and Elizabeth Marchillo's cutting remarks. But Florence is beautiful, the champagne is endless, and Alessia is tired of being good. One night, restless and half-drunk, she slips into a back-alley bar alone. That's where she meets him. Dark eyes. A slow, dangerous smile. An accent that dips between Portuguese and Italian. He calls himself Enzo Cartel—and he doesn't ask her name before buying her next drink. Their night is a blur of heat and bad decisions. Alessia wakes up alone in a hotel room that isn't hers, wearing a man's shirt, with nothing but a note on the pillow: "You'll see me again." She thinks it's a line. It's a promise. Because Enzo Cartel doesn't date. He doesn't do one-night stands. He collects. And when he discovers that the girl in that bar is the future sister-in-law of his biggest rival, Lucas Marchillo? She stops being a beautiful mistake. She becomes leverage. But as Alessia is dragged into a world of bloody alliances, betrayal, and a man who watches her like she's already his, she realizes something terrifying: She's not sure she wants to run.

Genre: Erotica

Author: mckenziebritton116

Status: Ongoing

Chapters: 4

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 18+

Chapter 1

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Chapter One

Alessia

"We can't have BTS play at your wedding."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes so hard I'd strain something. Mary was already lost—I could see it in the way she clutched her champagne flute like a lifeline.

"But Alessia, you don't understand," she whined, dragging out the last syllable. "Kim Namjoons voice would be perfect for the first dance."

"You're getting married in a sixteenth-century villa outside Florence. Mother would actually combust."

Mary waved a manicured hand. "Mother isn't here."

"Mary." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "No K-pop. No boy bands from any decade. You're marrying into one of New York's most connected families. The Brunswick Weekly called Elizabeth Marchillo 'the most powerful woman in Manhattan society you never want to cross.' Do you really want her hearing rap verses during the cocktail hour?"

Before Mary could argue, warm hands landed on her shoulders from behind. Lucas Marchillo dipped down and pressed a kiss to her cheek like he was performing in a cologne commercial.

He was handsome—I'd give him that. Dark hair, sharper jaw, that lazy grin that made women forget their own names. But something about Lucas always made my stomach tighten wrong.

"Hey, Alessia." His eyes slid over me like oil. "Telling my beautiful bride what she can't have at our wedding?"

I stared at him flatly. "It's a huge wedding. In Italy. Where classical music is the entire vibe. Do you think Elizabeth would be thrilled hearing 'Dynamite' during the father-daughter dance?"

Lucas's grin flickered at the mention of his mother. Everyone in New York society wanted to be in Elizabeth Marchillo's circle. No one actually wanted to deal with her.

He recovered fast, pulling Mary closer. "Go with Alessia, baby. I'll make it up to you tonight."

Mary giggled, already half-drunk on attention and prosecco.

I nearly gagged.