Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

His posture stiffened, his face a mask of barely controlled fury mixed with fear. “You’re telling me that son of a bitch is aware you’re an agent?”

“Every last detail,” I confirmed.

“Christ, Abby.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking for all the world like he wanted to tear something apart. “This is…shit, I could make a whole list. It’s breaking protocol, it’s personally dangerous for you, for me, for Nathan–even if I don’t really give a damn about him. There are a thousand reasons I should report you to your superiors, get you the hell out of this city and never look back.”

I nodded solemnly, my food cooling in front of me. “I think…I can take them down from the inside, Dad. I can bring down the Serpents’ whole operation.”

“Without backup? Without proper sanction?” His voice was incredulous, but beneath it, I detected the faintest note of pride.

I resisted the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Sometimes we don’t get to choose our battles,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “Or how we fight them. I have to do this, Daddy.”

He exhaled slowly, his features softening. “You’re walking a razor’s edge, kiddo.”

“I know.” I picked up my fork again, turning my attention back to the food that had lost all appeal. But I couldn’t let him see my doubt, not when I needed his strength to bolster my own.

“Be careful, Abby,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Always am,” I replied with a small, brave smile I didn’t quite feel.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“This is insane…”

“Dad–”

“Insane doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Dad said, his voice a low growl as he leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. The hotel suite was plush, but his discomfort was obvious, sticking out like a sore thumb against the hotel’s muted tones. “Abby, you’re playing with fire.”

I met his gaze head-on, my own resolve steeling within me. “I know it’s crazy, Dad, but I needed to see this through.” I paused, letting the words hang between us for a breath before adding, “Nathan’s father wants us married to protect the family, and I’m going through with it. It’s not up for debate. If you try to stop it… it’ll only put all of us in danger.”

He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, a heavy sigh escaping him. “Please listen. We should be taking him down the right way. By the book.”

“By the book?” I couldn’t help but let out a humorless chuckle, reaching for my fork and stabbing at the salad in front of me. “Tell me, when has that ever worked with the Serpents?”

We were at an impasse, both too stubborn to budge. Dad watched me, his jaw working silently, but he knew as well as I did that we had already been checkmated. So I did the only thing left to do—I ate. Crunching on a crouton, I pretended for a moment that we were just a regular family having lunch.

“Abby, I can’t just fly back to Boston knowing you’re here…mixed up in all this shit.” His voice bore an edge, coarsened by years on the force and countless sleepless nights fretting over cases. “You might be right, okay? This might be something you can do. But I’ve seen too much to leave you here alone.”

“Dad–”

His hand stretched out across the table, palm exposed and vulnerable. “I’m staying to watch your back.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” I confessed, feeling a smile pull at my lips. “Because I need you here to walk me down the aisle.”

The laugh that erupted from him was unexpected—rich and warm—a sound that had been absent for far too long. It reverberated around his sparse hotel room, bouncing off walls and filling the space between us with something akin to normalcy.

“Walk you down the aisle to marry a mafia boss?” He shook his head while chuckling still. “I swear, you’ll be the death of me, Abigail Harper.”

But we were laughing together then—the absurdity of our situation not lost on either one of us—our reality’s darkness momentarily receding as we became simply father and daughter again, sharing a joke instead of plotting against a lethal threat.

“Only if you wear the pink tie I gave you for Christmas,” I teased, the corners of my eyes creasing with genuine amusement.

“Over my dead body,” he retorted, but the glint in his eyes told me he’d do it. For me, he’d do anything—even don a ridiculous tie and walk me down the aisle to marry Nathan Zhou.

“I’m taking every precaution, Dad. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “This is absolutely your first rodeo. That’s what scares the shit out of me.”