If you're seeing this book for the first time, please go to my profile to read the Book I which is titled THE MAFIA KIDNAPPED ME. If you've read TMKM before and you're returning, I welcome and THANK YOU!

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It was today. The day she would walk down the aisle and say her vows, the day she would be joined forever with her better half.

Her wedding day.

Pamela King smoothed her strapless princess-cut gown with flower-shaped brocade and adjusted her creamy yellow bridal tiara that was sitting askew on her brown tresses. She smiled sadly at the mirror.

"Here, your flower."

"Thank you, Florence." She turned, took the flower and smiled at the woman, then she blew an audible breath. "I'm nervous, there are a lot of butterflies in my stomach." She placed the wedding bouquet on a chair.

The dirty blonde older woman took Pamela's hands in hers and squeezed it affectionately. "I know. I had felt the same about my own impending nuptials, but don't let the pressure get to you, because the most important thing is that you're doing the right thing." She paused and looked straight into her eyes. "Right?"

Pamela looked away from the knowing look on the woman's face, and smoothed her gown. "Of course I am doing the right thing, I mean, at the end of the day, my happiness is all that matters."

"Yes you're right, but as the nosy woman that I am, and for me to have a clear conscience at the end of it all, I'm going to ask once again, are you sure you want to do this?"

Pamela didn't reply. Was she sure? Yes she was. Of course she was. She loved her husband-to-be with all her heart and it was only fitting that they be joined in holy matrimony. It wasn't enough to be called boyfriend and girlfriend, putting a ring on it was the real deal. Getting married was, according to him, a necessary gesture to show how serious they were with each other.

"I am, Flore. I am very sure."

Then why was sadness gnawing at her insides? Why was she feeling like she was making a huge, huge mistake? Why was she feeling incomplete? Like there was this crucial piece of her that was missing? But in truth, what could be as fulfilling as making a person's wishes come true? She was making the wishes of her husband-to-be come true and that was what mattered.

"Okay then." The older woman placed a comforting touch to her shoulders. "I'll go get Henry to walk you."

She nodded in gratitude and as Florence got to the door of her room and opened it, Pamela noticed what she was wearing.

She frowned. "Why are you in black? It's a wedding, not a funeral." She laughed to take the edge off her nervousness.

"It's a wedding to you, but for me, I'm in mourning." Florence said point-blank.

Pamela's smile disappeared and she turned to look at the mirror as Florence shut the door. She was in mourning? She wasn't surprised. Florence didn't like her fiancé, and she had seized every opportunity to show him just how much.

Was it her fault though? Should she listen to Florence and call off the wedding? Her friends from college would understand – they had literarily given her subtle hints on how much they weren't so keen about her impending nuptials when they had come up to help get her ready – and her wedding planner would certainly not be disappointed as the wedding was a very private one, with only about thirty guests. Maybe she should call off the wedding. Should she?

She had told everyone to leave her alone to think just before Florence came in, and to be honest, all she had been able to come up with was that she wanted to go ahead with this. Why was everyone going against this? It was her life and so she had every right to make her own decisions, therefore she would not call it off.

The door opened again and Pamela didn't have to look back to know who it was, and when two strong, muscular arms enveloped her from behind, she was more certain of her decision to marry the wonderful man that was holding her like she was the most expensive jewelry in the world.

She smiled and caressed his hands that were circling her waists. "What are you doing here? Don't you know it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?"

He laughed in her ears and it made her tingle all over. "Well I can't exactly see you, now can I ?"

Pamela sighed and turned around to hug him. He was right. He couldn't see her, and the dark sun glasses he was wearing wasn't the reason.

Her fiancé couldn't see her because he was blind.

"Oh, Marcel." She hugged him tighter.

"Don't be sad," Marcel said, stroking her back. "I don't need to see you to know just how beautiful you look. I can feel it." He pulled back and placed her hand on his chest. "Right here. And yes, I can't see the sun but there's no need for that because you're the only light that I need to see by."

Her eyes smarted with tears. And here she was contemplating marrying him? Ever since he became blind while trying to save her life three years ago, she'd been indebted to him. Marrying him was the best thing she could ever do because she was making him happy and was paying him back for risking his life for her. How else could she thank him than to love him and let him love her back?

She planted a light kiss on his lips. "I love you. But you really need to get going. Florence is literally sniffing around for excuses to halt this wedding, I wouldn't want this to be one."

He laughed and that warmed her heart. "Okay, I'll leave now. See you on the alter my love." He planted another quick kiss on her lips and started for the door. She followed him, then shut the door to her room after he left, the tap tap of his cane receding down the hall.

She blew out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and went back to her dressing table to grab her flower. She picked it up, studied it and frowned. She had wanted something much smaller. The bouquet was too big, but she would manage it. She didn't want Florence to jump on that excuse to postpone the wedding.

She smiled. Her house keeper turned godmother was only being protective and she understood her but this was her life, and she would really appreciate it if she could decide how to live it.

The door opened again and Pamela sighed, but in a fond way. Why was Marcel so in a hurry? Was it because they haven't touched each other since they started dating again and wouldn't be able to until their wedding night? Was he that eager? She laughed and without turning back, said,

"Marcel I thought I told you I was – "

A hand suddenly covered her mouth, barely giving her the chance to scream in fright. She struggled so hard to get free by wriggling her whole body vigorously but the hand was firmly clamped over her mouth, and despite her frantic struggles, the hands were just too big and too strong for her to overpower. She elbowed the body and the hand came off, though briefly, but with that window of opportunity, she yelled,

"Let me go, please!"

The hand came over her mouth again, and pinned her to the nearby wall. Pamela called herself stupid. She had a chance to scream for help and what she said was let me go? Panic gripped her whole body as the intruder's breath fanned her face. Was she going to die? She had lived a peaceful and quiet life for three years so why today, of all days, was this happening to her? Nevertheless, she vowed not to give up. She would fight for her life! If only she could reach for her table. The body spray was no pepper spray but it could do something!

"Stop struggling." The voice snarled and she stopped immediately, as if he'd used some kind of magical powers to hex her into obedience. The truth was that the voice sounded so familiar, almost like –

No. It couldn't be.

"I'm going to remove my hands now. Do not scream."

Pamela shivered. What was happening? Was she in a dream? Was this some sort of prank? She stayed still, too scared to breath or move a muscle.

The hand left her mouth and she could feel the intruder step back. If her brain hadn't stopped working, she would have screamed for help, or she would have made a dash for her dressing table and sprayed her body spray into the intruder's eyes, to at least slow him down while she made her escape. Instead, she started to shiver. She was still there, facing the wall, too terrified to turn to look at the intruder for reasons she didn't want to imagine.

Was she losing her mind? Had she gone loco? Perhaps the pressure of the wedding had gotten into her head and was making her imagine things, things that were so paranormal that even the bravest of hearts couldn't withstand.

"You're getting married?" The voice said again in her ears, making her shiver again, more due to shock than fear. "I don't remember getting any divorce papers," He spun her slowly to face him. "Or have you forgotten you're still married to... the Mafia?"

Frozen deep down to her marrow and paralyzed by shock, Pamela gave a sound, something in between a strangled cry and a gurgled whisper,

"Devlin!"

He smiled at her, the same smile that she had fallen in love with, the same smile that had made her heart give way, the same smile that she had been so endeared to and had therefore been absolute torture not to see it again, this was the same smile that had haunted her dreams for the past three years. Her lower lips wobbled and tears gathered in her eyes.

The fact that she was seeing this smile again meant only one thing. She was dreaming. Or she was probably dead too, like how could this be happening? Of course she didn't expect to have gotten over him in just three years, which should totally explain the reason she was seeing him.

"Don't do this to me." She whispered and started to sob. "Please stop appearing to me. It was hard – it's still hard – dealing with the fact that you're gone, don't make this any harder on me."

Devlin's mirage frowned. "What the hell? I'm alive Pamela." He spread his arms out as if showing her his whole body. "I'm alive. Dead men don't grow beards, now do they?" He stroked his beard.

Pamela shook her head and started sobbing harder. "Please, go away."

"Pamela, I did not die that day three years ago. I'm alive." He walked closer to her. "If this were my ghost, I wouldn't have been able to grab you now, would I?"

Pamela stopped sobbing and frowned. That was true. Was this – No, No, it couldn't be!

"No way,"

"Yes way," He said moving closer. He took her hands in his and Pamela yanked it away.

It was Devlin! Warm and alive and standing right in front of her. Was it?

"Devlin?" She reached up to touch his face with hands that shook.

"Yes, baby, it's me. I'm here. I promised I would survive for you didn't I?"

"Devlin." She cried out, unable to believe what she was seeing, or understand what was happening. She couldn't help the gurgled sob that escaped her and she ran into his arms, weeping profusely. Devlin stroked her hair.

"Yes, I'm here."

She pulled back and he wiped her tears. "If this is a dream I don't ever want to wake up."

"This is reality. I am alive but I've been in hiding."

"How? I – I watched you die."

"The bullets didn't kill me."

"Yes, I heard but they said – " She chocked back a sob as uncertainty bordered her features. "They said you – " She stepped back and looked up suspiciously at the three-years-older version of Devlin. "Your body was recovered, your body was – "

"That body wasn't mine, and I can explain everything."

Pamela kept walking backwards, unsure of what was happening.

"Pamela, I promise you're not crazy, you're perfectly fine and I am alive. I can explain everything, please believe me."

"No." She whispered. The person standing before her looked exactly like her dead husband, though with beards that he'd not had when she last saw him. But should she believe him? It was really suspicious that he would go through the back door to reveal himself. If it really were him, he was supposed to reveal that he was alive with lots of glee and celebration and not by hiding in the shadows.

Pamela made a conclusion that the person standing before her was a lookalike of Devlin she didn't know about, and had come to haunt her.

"Pamela, baby please – "

A frantic knock on the door cut him off and their heads both swung to the door.

"Don't answer it." Devlin said with a pleading look on his face.

"Why? I can't be certain it's you. It could be your lookalike who's playing a cruel game on me, or it could be that I've finally lost my mind."

"No, I promise it's not that." He moved forward to her and in a bid to dodge him, Pamela moved towards the door. "Pamela no one knows I'm alive." He continued. "If whoever's behind that door sees me, everything changes. Please."

Pamela shook her head, wiped her face with her hands and marched to the door. She opened it to meet a worried Henry.

"Sweetheart, we're waiting for you."

"I – "

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm okay."

Should she talk? A part of her wanted Henry to come in to see the 'Devlin' standing in her room – if there was a Devlin there. She just wanted to be sure that she was not crazy and isn't seeing a ghost.

But a ghost wouldn't be able to touch or hug her, also a ghost wouldn't be frightened of being seen which shoots the ghost and her insanity theory to hell, but there was still the case of it being a cruel lookalike who had cruel intentions for her because if he had good intentions, he wouldn't be hiding.

The older man took his hands in hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, everything's fine. It – It's just that I just saw my period – "

"Oh my, are you okay? Should I get Marcel for you?"

"No!" She said vehemently without intending to. She laughed nervously and lowered her voice. "It's not necessary, I can manage."

He gave her a close look, his white brows furrowing in concern. "You really don't look okay. I could get someone to bring you some pain killers and maybe chocolate to make you feel better."

"No, thank you Henry I'm totally okay, just give me a few more minutes."

He shrugged. "Okay dear." He backed off and turned on his heels to start leaving.

"And Henry, tell Marcel I said I am very sorry. For being late, of course." She added the last statement when Henry gaped at her.

"Pammy, dear, if you're rethinking this, it totally okay."

"What?" She laughed nervously. "No! Absolutely not. That is so ridiculous. I just need to put on a tampon and I'll be good to go." She gritted her teeth when Henry still stood, looking as suspicious as ever.

"Pamela, you really don't look okay."

"I am! I was saying I was sorry because, you know we might have to move our wedding night."

He walked towards her again. "Why are you standing by the door?" He elbowed his way in but she stood in his path praying to God that the strange Devlin lookalike had gone to hide. "That's because my dress might be stained with blood."

"Pardon my manners but as a retired detective, I can't help but be suspicious. I'm going to have to take a look around." His chest puffed in pride. "I solved a lot of cases during my time, successfully, I might add, and I ended up having lots of honorary badges after – "

Henry was interrupted when a baseball club hit his head from behind. She watched him slump to the ground in unconsciousness with horror and shock. She looked up at Devlin.

"What was that for?!"

"He was wasting my time, and boring me out of my brains." He threw the club on the bed and stretched his hands to her. "We have to leave now."

"What? You're not even worried if he's dead?"

"No." He said point-blank.

Pamela scoffed. This was totally Devlin. Braining a middle aged man with a club and not giving a hoot about it was totally Devlin. She couldn't imagine something more Devlin than that.

She folded her arms beneath her chest. "Well I am."

He sighed loudly. "He's fine. He'll probably wake up with a migraine or a little head wound but a bandage will patch him up nice and good. Now, let's go."

"I don't know if I should be doing this."

"Yes, you do. If not you wouldn't have tried to hide me. I have a strong feeling you're curious about me." He moved closer and took her hands. Pamela shivered and yanked her hands off again. Touching him still felt unreal to her, like she was in a kind of bizarre dream.

"Come with me, and I'll tell you everything, starting from the last time you saw me."

The last time she saw him was when he had been bundled on a gurney and put into the ambulance vehicle, just moments after he'd been shot. A lot of things had happened after that and hell yes she was curious.

She shut her eyes and made a silent prayer that she wasn't making a mistake, then she looked up at him and placed her hands in his. "Let's go."

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