Love is patient. Love is kind.

Love leaves no witnesses behind...

I’m a killer who hunts killers. And despite my therapist calling it an “antisocial personality disorder”—I mean, God forbid a girl have hobbies—I have a pretty good thing going.

Until he steps onto my turf.

Damiano Barone is a control freak with a stick so far up his rectum it’s practically load-bearing. A cold, criminally gorgeous rule-master with a body built for war and a gift for making me even stabbier than usual.

Honestly, that’s almost impressive.

But when we—allegedly—kill the heir to a vicious mafia king and both our families end up in the crosshairs, there’s only one way to ensure neither side stands alone:

Marriage. To Damiano.

Because apparently nothing fixes a disaster like shackling two blood-soaked homicidal enemies together and hoping for the best.

Our vows are supposed to mean mutual protection. Instead, there’s a decent chance one of us ends up dismembered or dissolved in acid before anyone gets around to asking about honeymoon plans.

Damiano thinks a ring on my finger means he can control me. That I’ll behave. Follow his rules. Be his dutiful, obedient little wife.

How cute.

He has rules.

I have knives.

Because you know what they say: something borrowed, something blue. Someone buried if he tells me what to do.

And all’s fair in love and gore.