ACT LIKE MY SON’S FIANCÉE, THE MAFIA BOSS’S MOTHER BEGGED A BROKEN STRANGER AT THE BAR

The silence between the three of them was heavier than the crystal chandeliers overhead.

Adrian Moretti stood six-foot-two in an Italian wool suit, his posture rigid, his dark brown eyes locked onto the stranger sitting on the barstool.

"Julian," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register. "Julian Vance."

The stranger—Julian Vance—did not flinch. He slowly stood up, smoothing down his black jacket. He was slightly leaner than Adrian, but carried the quiet, steady stance of a man who had survived things most men only read about in history books.

"It's been twelve years, Adrian," Julian said, his tone devoid of warmth, but equally devoid of fear.

"Twelve years," Adrian repeated, stepping closer. The tension in his shoulders was palpable. "The last time I saw you, you were standing over my father's grave in Brooklyn telling me that the Vance family was done with the Morettis forever."

Elena stepped between the two men, her hands raised slightly, her eyes frantic. "Adrian, listen to me—"

"Mother, move," Adrian commanded without taking his eyes off Julian. "What is he doing here? And what kind of sick joke are you playing with this... announcement?"

"It's no joke," Elena insisted, her voice tight with desperation. "Isabelle is gone."

Adrian went absolutely still. "What did you say?"

"She left three hours ago, Adrian," Elena whispered, tears welling up in her eyes once more. "She took her bags, dropped her engagement ring on my kitchen table, and fled the city. Her father, Senator Vance’s allies, and two hundred of the syndicate's board members are sitting in that ballroom right now waiting for you to walk down the aisle with a bride."

Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He looked at his mother, then at the old photograph lying on the bar.

"So your bright idea," Adrian said, his words laced with lethal sarcasm, "was to grab my childhood enemy, bring him into the bar, and declare him my new partner?"

"Julian isn't your enemy, Adrian!" Elena cried softly. "His father saved your father's life in '08! And more importantly, the city knows the Vance name. If you walk into that ballroom alone tonight, the Falcone family will declare you weak. They will see Isabelle's departure as a sign that your coalition has fractured! You know what Falcone will do by midnight!"

Julian looked at the two of them, taking a slow breath. He reached down and picked up his untouched glass of bourbon.

"Your mother is right about one thing, Adrian," Julian said calmly, taking a sip. "Falcone has three hitters sitting in the back row of that ballroom. I saw them when I walked in. They aren't here for champagne. They're waiting for you to look vulnerable."

Adrian turned his gaze back to Julian. "And you care because...?"

"I don't," Julian said honestly. "I came to this hotel to meet an informant about my brother's cold case. Your mother dragged me into this mess five minutes ago."

"Then walk away," Adrian said coldly. "I don't need a fake bride, and I certainly don't need a Vance."

"If he walks away, Adrian, you die tonight!" Elena practically begged, grabbing her son’s lapel. "Please! Just walk into the room with him! Let them see the Vance and Moretti families unified! It buys us forty-eight hours to figure out where Isabelle went and how to handle Falcone!"

From inside the ballroom, the Master of Ceremonies' voice boomed over the loudspeaker:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please raise your glasses for the man of the hour—Adrian Moretti!"

The crowd began to clap rhythmic, expectant applause.

Adrian looked at his mother's terrified face. Then he looked at Julian Vance—the boy he used to fight beside on the streets of Brooklyn, the man whose family had fallen into tragedy alongside his own.

"Forty-eight hours," Adrian growled under his breath.

He turned to Julian, extending his hand, his eyes blazing with dark intensity. "You play along, Vance. You stand beside me, you smile, and you don't say a single word about your brother. If you cross me, I'll bury you myself."