She Took Her Sister’s Place at the Altar—Then the Mafia Boss Chose Her

PART 3

The week in Sicily passed in a strange blur of sunlight and wine and conversations that should not have been so easy.

Away from New York and his empire, Dominic was different. Still dangerous. Still commanding. But also surprisingly funny, with a dry wit that caught me off guard.

He told me stories about his grandmother, about growing up in the mafia, about the weight of legacy and expectation. Against every instinct, I found myself telling him about my mother, about Brazil, about the dreams I had abandoned when reality became survival.

We fell into a rhythm.

Mornings on the terrace with coffee and fresh pastries from the village. Afternoons exploring the coast or reading in comfortable silence. Evenings cooking together, because Dominic apparently knew his way around a kitchen, his grandmother’s recipes committed to memory.

“She said a man who couldn’t cook was useless,” he explained as he taught me to make pasta from scratch, his hands covering mine as he showed me how to fold the dough. “She said the

kitchen was where real power lived. Because everyone had to eat.”

“Smart woman,” I admitted, trying to ignore how warm his body felt pressed against my back and how his breath on my neck made me shiver.

“She’d like you,” he murmured. “Stubborn, fierce, refusing to be intimidated. You’re exactly her type.”

“I’m no one’s type.”

“You’re mine.”

He turned me to face him, flour dusting both our hands.

“Whether you believe it yet or not.”

I wanted to kiss him.

Cristo, I wanted it so badly it terrified me. This man who had forced me into marriage, who controlled every aspect of my life, who represented everything I should hate. But his dark eyes were warm, his touch gentle, and the want in his expression matched my own.

“Dominic,” I started.

His phone rang, shattering the moment.

He stepped back, his expression shuttering as he checked the screen.

“I

need to take this. It’s Marco.”

He walked away, speaking in rapid Italian, and I was left standing in the kitchen covered in flour, my heart racing, wondering what the hell was happening to me.

When he returned 10 minutes later, his face was hard. All traces of the man I had been getting to know had been replaced by the mob boss.

“We need to leave. Now.”

Fear shot through me. “What’s wrong? Is it my mother?”

“Your mother is fine. But there’s been a development in New York. Someone made a move against one of my operations.” He was already moving, pulling out his phone to make calls. “Pack your essentials. We leave in an hour.”

“Dominic, what’s happening?”

He paused, his jaw tight. “The Castellanos. They’ve been behind everything. Isabella’s death, the pressure on our families, all of it. They’re trying to start a war, and they’ve

decided you’re their next target.”

My blood ran cold. “Me? Why?”

“Because you’re my weakness.” His voice was harsh. “Or they think you are. Marco intercepted communications. They’re planning to grab you when we return, use you as leverage to force me out.”

“Then don’t go back. Stay here where it’s safe.”

“I can’t hide in Sicily while my empire burns.” He gripped my shoulders. “But I can protect you. We’ll protect you. No one touches what’s mine, Deanna. No one.”

The flight back was tense. Dominic spent most of it on the phone, speaking in Italian too rapid for me to follow, his expression growing darker with each call.

When we landed in New York, there were twice as many guards as before, and the drive to the estate felt like a military convoy.

“You’re staying at the house,” Dominic said as we pulled up. “Marco and 6 men will be with you at all times. You don’t leave the grounds without me. Understand?”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re my wife, which makes you a target.” He cupped my face, his touch urgent. “Promise me, Deanna. Promise you’ll stay where I can keep you safe.”

The fear in his eyes was barely concealed. It made my chest tight.

“I promise.”

He kissed me then, hard and desperate, as though he was afraid it might be the last time. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

“I’ll come back to you. And when I do, this will all be over.”

Then he was gone, leaving me in that beautiful prison with guards at every door.

Two days passed like torture. I paced. I read. I tried to distract myself, but all I could think about was Dominic out there facing enemies who wanted him dead.

Enemies who wanted me dead.

On the 3rd day, Marco came to find me in the library.

“Mrs. Unaretti, we have a situation.”

My heart stopped. “Is he okay? Is Dominic—”

“He’s fine. But there’s been an incident. The Castellanos made their move. Three of our warehouses hit simultaneously. 2 men dead.” Marco’s expression was grim. “Mr. Unaretti is handling it, but he wanted me to move you to a safe house, just as a precaution.”

“When?”

“Now.”

Something felt wrong.

Marco’s eyes would not quite meet mine. The other guards were positioned strangely. Dominic had promised to call me every day, but my phone had been silent since that morning.

“I need to talk to Dominic first,” I said carefully. “Before I go anywhere.”

“No time,” he insisted.

“Then he can insist to my face. Call him. Let me hear his voice telling me to leave.”

Marco’s expression hardened.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mrs. Unaretti. You’re coming with us one way or another.”

The other guards moved in, and I realized with sick certainty that these were not Dominic’s men.

Or they had been, until someone offered them a better deal.

I ran through the house and out onto the terrace, heading for the gardens, where I knew there were actual security patrols. But they caught me before I made it, strong hands grabbing me, a cloth pressed over my mouth that smelled sweet and chemical.

The world went fuzzy.

Then dark.

I woke in a warehouse, tied to a chair, my head pounding.

Luca Castellano stood in front of me, handsome and smiling and absolutely terrifying.

“Mrs. Unaretti,” he said pleasantly. “Welcome. I apologize for the rough treatment, but you understand. We needed to get you away from your husband’s protection.”

“He’ll kill you,” I said, my voice raw. “All of you, probably.”

Luca did not seem concerned.

“But first, he’ll have to choose. His wife or his empire. Interesting dilemma, don’t you think?”

“You don’t know Dominic.”

“I know men like him. Power is everything. And when forced to choose between power and a wife he was forced to marry…” He shrugged. “I think we know which he’ll pick.”

He was wrong.

I knew it with bone-deep certainty.

Dominic would come for me. He would burn the city down to get me back.

I just had to survive long enough for him to find me.

The door exploded inward 2 hours later.

Dominic came through like an avenging angel, gun in hand, his men flooding in behind him. The firefight was brief and brutal. When the smoke cleared, Luca Castellano was dead, and I was free.

Dominic cut my ropes with shaking hands, pulling me against him so hard it hurt.

“Cristo, Deanna. Cristo.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Marco betrayed us. He’s dead now. Along with everyone else who thought they could use you against me.” His voice was savage. “I burned their operations to the ground. Every Castellano property, every asset, everything. They’re finished.”

“Dominic—”

“I chose you.” He pulled back to look at me, his eyes fierce. “Power, empire, all of it means nothing if you’re gone. Do you understand? You’re not my weakness. You’re my strength. You’re everything.”

And there, in that warehouse with bodies cooling around us, I finally understood.

This was not about control or possession. It was about a man who had found something worth fighting for, something worth burning the world down to protect.

“Take me home,” I said softly.

Three months later, I stood in our New York apartment, looking out at the city that had become mine.

My mother was in a facility upstate, thriving on her treatment and visiting every weekend. I had enrolled in online classes. I was working on my writing again. Against all odds, I had found a kind of freedom within the constraints of my new life.

Dominic came up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How strange life is. How I came here hating you. And now…” I paused.

“And now?” he prompted.

“And now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.” I turned in his arms. “I choose this, Dominic. Not because I’m forced, but because I want to. Because somewhere along the way, my prison became my home.”

His smile was soft and real, nothing like the predatory grins I had first known.

“I love you, Deanna Unaretti.”

“I know.” I rose onto my toes to kiss him. “I love you too, even though you’re impossible and controlling and absolutely infuriating.”

“But?”

“But you’re mine, and I’m yours. Maybe that’s enough.”

“More than enough,” he murmured against my lips. “Everything.”

As he carried me to our bedroom, I realized the truth.

I had come to New York as the forgotten sister, forced into an impossible marriage. But I had become something else entirely.

I had become his equal.

His partner.

His wife.

Not because I had to be, but because I chose it.

And that choice made all the difference

THE END.