She Begged for a Husband by Morning, Never Knowing the Mafia Boss in the Shadows Had Already Chosen Her

With Beatrice neutralized, Dante’s focus shifted to cementing Clara’s position in his world. It was time for her public debut as the mafia boss’s wife.

The annual Chicago Children's Hospital Charity Gala was the event of the season. Every politician, CEO, and underworld figure wearing a tuxedo would be there.

“I can't do this,” Clara panicked, pacing the master suite. She was wearing a custom-made, midnight-blue velvet gown that hugged every curve she had spent her life trying to hide. A diamond necklace rested against her collarbone. “Everyone is going to stare at me. They’re going to know I don't belong.”

Dante walked into the room, looking devastating in a bespoke black tuxedo. He stopped, his breath catching as he looked at her.

“They are going to stare at you,” Dante said, walking toward her, “because you are the most breathtaking woman in the city. And they are going to know that you belong to me.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “You are a queen, Clara. Act like it. And if anyone looks at you sideways, I’ll remove their eyes.”

Clara laughed, a breathless sound, leaning back against his solid chest.

When they arrived at the gala, the paparazzi went wild. Flashes blinded them as Dante placed a protective hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the grand ballroom.

As they walked through the crowd, Clara noticed the shift. Men who looked dangerous stepped aside with lowered eyes. Wealthy socialites who would normally sneer at a baker offered her polite, terrified smiles.

Dante was right. She wasn't just Clara anymore. She was Clara Cavallo.

Midway through the evening, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz. Dante pulled her onto the dance floor.

“You’re doing perfectly,” he murmured, pulling her flush against his body.

“It helps that everyone is terrified of you,” Clara teased, resting her hand on his chest.