Page 47 of From Italy With Love

The implications settled over me like a shroud.

He was asking me to become a spy. To betray my family. To feed information to a man who could use it to destroy everything my father and Giovanni had built.

It was treason. The kind of betrayal that would get me killed if anyone ever found out.

But it was also the only way to keep Madigan safe.

“Done,” I said without hesitation.

Sinclair’s expression didn’t change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. Respect, maybe. Or recognition of what I had just agreed to sacrifice.

“There’s more,” he continued. “You need to marry. Legally. Before she leaves New York.”

Madigan’s hand tightened in mine. “Crispin.”

“It’s non-negotiable.” His voice was firm, but not unkind. “If something happens to you, Madigan, you need legal protection. You need to be his wife, not just his girlfriend. It’s the only way to ensure you and the child have any claim to his assets and protection under the law.”

He was right. I knew he was right. But the idea of marrying Madigan like this, in secret, under duress, as part of a deal with the Devil, felt wrong. She deserved better. Deserved a real wedding, a real life, a real future.

But we didn’t have that luxury.

“Okay,” she whispered quietly. “I’ll do it.”

Sinclair nodded. “I’ll arrange it. Private ceremony. Here. Tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night.

Less than twenty-four hours, and Madigan would be my wife.

The thought should have filled me with joy. Should have been everything I wanted. But instead, I felt the weight of what we were doing. The desperation of it. The knowledge that we were binding ourselves together not out of choice but out of necessity. Still, when I looked at Madigan, when I saw the fear and hope warring in her eyes, I knew I would do it. Would marry her tomorrow and every day after if it meant keeping her safe.

“After the ceremony,” Sinclair continued, “I’ll arrange for her transfer to Nevada. New college, new life. To everyone else, she will be a transfer student. No one will know. You will continue with school, Madigan. But you will not be attending classes.”

Confused, she looked from Sinclair to me.

“I don’t understand,” Madigan said, her voice small.

Sinclair’s expression softened slightly. “I am sending you to Montana. You will stay there until the baby is born. I have a ranch there. Remote. Protected. No one knows about it except a handful of people I trust with my life.” He paused. “It’s yours. Consider it a wedding present.”

His words hung in the air, impossibly generous and terrifying all at once.

A ranch in Montana. A place so remote and protected that no one would ever find her.

A sanctuary.

“I can’t accept that,” I said, though everything in me wanted to. “It’s too much.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Sinclair’s voice was flat. “She needs somewhere permanent. Somewhere she can raise your child without looking over her shoulder every day. The ranch is the only place I can guarantee that level of security.”

He was right. Again. And I hated how much I needed him. Hated how completely I was putting Madigan’s life in his hands.

But I didn’t have another option.

“Thank you,” I said again, the words inadequate but sincere.

Sinclair nodded once, then straightened. “Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

He walked us to the door, but before we left, he caught my arm. His grip was firm, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “You understand what you’ve agreed to,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “You’re mine now. You work for me. And if you ever think about backing out, if you ever think about betraying this agreement, I will destroy you and your entire family.”