Bought and Bonded

The night the Moretti family bonded its wolves, I stood in the front row and watched my mate tell three hundred people he'd never bind himself to a woman whose hands were dirty with his family's work. He was right. I was the cleaner. I was also nineteen. I left for Marseille and got paid, for six years, to do exactly what I used to do for free — put the pieces back together after men like him break things. Now the don is dead, the war with the Caruso family is wide open, and the ledger he inherited doesn't reconcile because someone on his own council has been stealing for four years. He flew to France to ask me to come home. I made him ask twice. I came back for ninety days, on paper, with a return ticket in my drawer. I'll name the thief. I'll settle the peace. I'll sign his bonding contract if it survives my amendments. The ticket stays valid either way. A rejected mate capo romance.