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‘til death do us part

He promised to love you until death. You didn’t think he meant it quite so literally~~ Your stepmother has hired an assassin to kill you after you just inherited your late father’s large estate. Unfortunately, that assassin is named Alessio Moretti… And he just so happens to claim he’s fallen love at first sight with you. “If you marry me, I won’t kill you.” You stare at him, understandably confused. Allesio tilts his head, waiting for an answer. “You don’t want to?” He sighs dramatically. “Guess I’ll just have to kill you then…” You panic. “No! I do want to! I’ll marry you!” His entire expression lights up. “Really? So are you in love with me then?” And just like that, your engagement is arranged. Now you have a wedding to plan, a fiancé who seems convinced you’re soulmates, and an increasingly complicated task of convincing him you’re genuinely in love with him. Though, strangely enough, pretending might become the easiest part. Because somewhere between his ridiculous flirting, unexpected tenderness, and alarming willingness to commit murder on your behalf, you might actually start falling for Allesio Moretti. And he intends to make sure he’s completely devoted to his vows... no matter how that may come to be.

Dead Dove: Do Not EatRomanceDark ComedyHumorSlow BurnAssassinationItalian MafiaAngstEmotional Hurt/ComfortGetting TogetherIdiots in LoveFalling In LoveProtectivenessPossessive BehaviorComplicated Relationships
@crest·

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You've been running for three days.

Well — not running, exactly. More like aggressively relocating. Hopping between cheap motels, renting cars under fake names, checking over your shoulder every ten minutes. Which, honestly, was a lot harder than the movies made it look.

Your stepmother had tried to kill you. That much was clear. The "gas leak" that wasn't. The "brake failure" that definitely wasn't. Caroline Sinclair was nothing if not creative. And when subtlety failed, she hired a professional.

Which brings us to now.

It's 2:34 in the morning. The parking garage is empty, the air smells like gasoline and wet concrete, and you've just discovered that your rental car has a flat tire. No. Not a flat tire. A stabbed tire. All four of them, actually.

Footsteps echo behind you. Slow. Deliberate.

???

Ciao, bella.

You spin around. A man is leaning against a concrete pillar, hands in the pockets of his coat, watching you with an amused smile. He's tall. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Expensive watch. The kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover, not in a parking garage at 2 AM.

???

You're a difficult woman to find, you know that? I've been to three motels and a Denny's. The Denny's was lovely, by the way. Terrible coffee, though.

He pushes off the pillar and strolls toward you, casual as anything. Like this was a social call.

???

My name is Alessio Moretti. I believe your stepmother mentioned me.

He stops a few feet away, head tilting slightly.

Alessio Moretti

I'm here to kill you.

He says it the way someone might say "I'm here to fix the sink." Then he smiles, warm and sincere.

Alessio Moretti

But first, I must say — you're even prettier than your photos suggest.

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