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Ellie

There have been seven momentous days in my life. The day I married Tim. The day I killed someone for the first time. The three days I gave birth. The day my divorce went through. And today—the day I married Enrique.

Three I could’ve lived without. Four are days I will treasure above all else.

Today is the only day without fear or trepidation. Today is the only day with absolute certainty and peace of mind.

The past month has been a haze of activity. I had a manuscript to finish, which I fell behind on. It released last week, and I’m still riding the high from that. Wedding planning was—interesting.

We’re in NYC. Every company I contacted from the reception venue to the florist to the baker—everyone—practically laughed in my face when I said my wedding was in four weeks. Until…

The name Enrique Diaz means even more than I realized in this city. He’s somewhere between a man and a myth. Whether he’s known for his legitimate wealth or the rumors about his ties to the underworld, everyone I spoke to became far more helpful once I shared my fiancé’s name. Amazing how that worked.

“Have I told you how happy I am, carino ?” It’s what he calls me in public now.

“I think you did, but I can’t remember.”

He kisses behind my ear as we take our place in the receiving line.

“Blissful, little one. Happier than I knew was possible.”

“I feel the same, mio caro .” It’s what I can call him in public.

We greet our guests. I’m friendly with most people, but I understand this is as much about business as is everything in our lives. Enrique and I are the producers, directors, and stars of this Off-Broadway show. I have a role to play now as la patrona . It’s the same as Stella and Sylvia Mancinelli play as la madrina of their Cosa Nostra branches. They’re the Godmother, and I’m the Lady Boss. Whatever our title, it means the same thing.

I stand beside Enrique, an ice queen to outsiders when I must be, and the arms of compassion and mercy when it’s needed within our community. Right now, I’m somewhere in between.

I greet our guests, and when the Kutsenkos and O’Rourkes arrive, I pray none of them recognize me. It surprises me when I recognize Jesus’s daughter accompanying the last O’Rourke through the line. Enrique keeps them chatting as Salvatore and Sylvia enter the ballroom. Salvatore and I have met a couple times, but we mostly know each other by reputation. After my conversation with him last month, I’m uncertain how he’ll react to seeing me again, even if he knew he would.

I watch the other Mancinellis enter, and my gaze lingers over a woman with the Mancinellis’ underboss. I shift my attention from her to Jesus’s daughter. I hide my confusion, knowing I’ll ask Enrique later. The conversation soon answers some of my questions, but I’m only left more bewildered.

The women are ready to draw blood when they confront each other. I don’t need a fight at our reception. Certainly not one between two women. The men may all have at least a knife, but they aren’t carrying their guns. If they get in a fight, they’ll throw some fists, and someone’s bound to be stabbed. But they’ll stop when they remember where they are.

Two women?

I guarantee they have knives. I also guarantee if they fight, it won’t end until one of them is dead. It doesn’t matter where they are, who’s here, or what they’re wearing. The men might fight till first blood. These women will fight till last blood.

I listen to the conversation as it nears a standoff. I’m confused about how they don’t know each other. I glance up at Enrique, and I know in an instant he orchestrated this. Somehow, he ensured the O’Rourkes went through the receiving line directly ahead of the Mancinellis. He made sure Jesus’s daughter and her O’Rourke date were at the end of the family pack. He knew they’d run into the Mancinelli underboss and his wife. This unpleasant confrontation will get back to Jesus, and it’ll complicate his life tremendously. Enrique banked on that.

Enrique’s arm tightens around me as we watch the women negotiate moving their conversation somewhere more private, and the men in their lives exchange anxious glances before agreeing to step out of the reception. I won’t say anything to Enrique until later, but I don’t appreciate him using our reception for his machinations.

“ Chiquita , it was inevitable they’d meet. No, I didn’t orchestrate them coming through the receiving line so close together. No, I didn’t expect them to challenge each other practically to a duel right here. But I knew it might cause a scene, and I know Jesus is up to his eyeballs in shit right now.”

“You risked all that to inconvenience Jesus on our wedding day. The man isn’t even here.”

“But his son and daughter were along with his niece. He may never repair the damage that just happened to his relationship with his children. He should’ve thought about that before keeping those secrets. While he’s distracted with that, he won’t pay attention to you.”

“Enrique—”

“Ellie, I didn’t plot this. I didn’t use our reception as a guise to lure those women into an argument. That’s how life unfolded. I made the best of it.”

“You could have warned me, so I didn’t stand there, looking lost in front of strangers.”

“Your composure was impeccable.”

I stare at him for a moment. I get a lot of this life is about carpe diem . If you don’t seize the day, you not only miss opportunities, sometimes you wind up dead. I don’t begrudge him that.

“Just keep me informed, please.”

His hand trails down my hip from my waist, over my ass to my hand. He’s discreet as he cops a feel then laces his fingers with mine. He brings the back of my hand to his lips.

“I’ll do better. I’ll need reminders.”

“Thank you.”

I turn toward him, and people tap their knives against their glasses. I’m happy to kiss the man of my dreams.

Enrique encircles me in his arms, and the moment our lips meet, the rest of the world melts away. We’re not indecent, but we don’t care who watches. Our foreheads press as we break the kiss. The evening passes with food, toasts, and dancing. We cut the cake, and neither of us considers smashing it in the other’s face.

That just isn’t us.

But we might have licked frosting from each other’s fingers when we fed each other. I toss my bouquet, and a young woman I don’t know catches the flowers. From the corner of my eye, I notice Javier observing her. She’s connected to the bratva, but I don’t know how. It’s not by blood. I can’t tell if they have a past, but something tells me fate made her catch the bouquet.

Enrique wishes our guests goodnight, encouraging them to enjoy without us. I’m certain the three other families will since it’s an open bar. They’ll drink just to run up Enrique’s bill. All the men are as massive as the Diazes, so they can easily manage three drinks to every other person’s one. The Russian women have been drinking vodka since they were five, and I’ve heard the O’Rourke women used to get a tipple of whiskey in their sippy cups.

It was a relief to see the O’Rourkes welcome Kathleen, even if they weren’t warm to Frank. She’s still one of them at heart. Her cousin, Donovan, once led the family, but we’re all better off for him being dead. She blends in with Donovan’s sisters like she’s the fourth one. She sounded more like the younger generation’s aunt than an alienated cousin-once-removed.

“Are you ready, little one?”

Enrique helps me onto the super yacht moored at North Cove here in Manhattan. We’re taking our time sailing down to the Caribbean where we’ll spend three weeks on a private island he just gifted me. I wasn’t sure what he handed me when I looked at a land deed, then aerial photos.

“So ready, papí. ”

He opens the door to our cabin, and I realize he meant for more than just our honeymoon. To the left is a Saint Andrew’s Cross, and to the right is a spanking bench. At the foot of the bed is a swing I point to.

“That. I want to try that first, Daddy.”

He’s already sliding the zipper down my modestly cut but ornately embroidered ivory gown. He pushes it down to find I’m only wearing a garter belt and thigh highs.

“You’re leaving those on. You’re sexy as fuck, little one.”

I help him out of his tux. He’s gorgeous as sin, and every single woman—and several of the married ones plus a few guys—noticed.

Mine, bitches .

He’s soon situated on it, and I slip my feet into the stirrups, straddling him. Our foreplay was undressing each other.

“Fuck, Ellie. The feel of slipping into you.”

“It’s divine.”

He pushes off, our bodies guiding the swing’s momentum. It’s the most erotic position I’ve ever had sex.

“I fantasized about a man like you when I was younger. I convinced myself they only existed for other women. As much as I feel like I’m in a dream, I know this is real. You make me happier than I ever thought I deserved to be, Enrique. I love you.”

“And I love you. I never once want you to doubt those words are the truth and that I’ll mean them for the rest of time. I didn’t need a wife, and I didn’t want one until the moment I met you. Then I knew. Life tried to tell me to be patient, but once upon a time I thought I knew more. Now I understand fate always planned for me to find you.”

We move together, kissing while our hands explore. Every movement, every motion brings us closer to ecstasy. When we’re finally there, we burst into it together. We’ve fought to be together. We’ve fought beside each other. It may be a fight to stay together. But what we’ve brought together, no man can put asunder.

Javier never imagined a ghost from his past would be on the other side of the hotel door he just burst through. Discover what happens when the first of the Tres J’s falls…for wrong woman—the bratva pakhan’s sister-in-law in Cartel Viper .