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CHAPTER 1
ELENA
Elena Morelli stared at Lorenzo’s coffin, praying her husband wouldn’t somehow crawl his way back out of the dirt. While the minister said his prayers and led Lorenzo’s soul through the valley of shadow of death, she wished him a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of hell.
The bastard had taken sixteen years off her life. He had managed to scar her soul without ever laying a single hand on her. The surveillance he had put her under, dictating every part of her life, had been gruesome. The crown jewels were less protected than she was. The difference between the two? Those jewels were put behind lock and key to keep a nation’s legacy safe; she was put in a golden cage to keep his secret safe. Keeping up appearances in his Italian family had been everything to him. Even though the bastard had ruined her life, part of her couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Society, his world, didn’t accept him for who he was, and he hadn’t been strong enough to break free of its chains.
In the end, she had merely existed, not lived. But it had been worth it. Everything had been worth it as long as it kept her little girl safe. She couldn’t wait for Vicky to return from Switzerland, and to hold her in her arms again. To be alone with her without a small army of bodyguards surrounding them.
Her pointy black Gucci pumps writhed in the dirt. She couldn’t wait to get rid of them. Today would be the last time she wore heels above three inches. The same went for the tight black dress and the even tighter corset underneath it.
She had longed for the day she could wear jeans again. For Lorenzo, she always had to look like the perfect mobster wife. Designer clothes, three-hundred-dollar haircuts, nine-inch heels, and sparkling jewelry no human should spend that much money on.
Lorenzo had hated her curves and demanded her to look “fit” during obligatory meetings with his capos, where she played the dutiful wife. First thing in the morning, she was going to gorge on pasta. Delicious pasta with a creamy mushroom sauce that would melt in her mouth. Followed by a pile of tiramisu, calories be damned.
The line of people at the funeral was long. One after the other, family members and business associates of Lorenzo’s, came to console her, paying their respects to a man who didn’t deserve any. If they only knew the man he truly had been. But they didn’t. Oh, they knew he was a made man, at the head of his own crime syndicate, but that was the funny thing about the Family. No matter how many people you killed, drugs and prostitution money you collected, as long as you appeared to be a “family man” on the outside, everything was wonderful. They would sit at your table during Sunday dinner and hang on to your every word.
The epitome of another fake family man was standing next to her—her brother-in-law, Pedro. The youngest of the two Morelli brothers. For all their “family is everything” mantra, the brothers had hated each other with an unheard-of passion.
Lorenzo had been the bane of her existence, but at least he let her be, as long as she did nothing to smear his good name. Pedro, on the other hand, was a conniving son of a bitch who would sell his own mother if it fit his agenda. Thankfully, his mother wasn’t alive to see that day. Unlike Lorenzo, Pedro had an unhealthy appreciation of her curves. The only thing stopping him so far from making a move on her had been his brother. It was just a matter of time before he would make a pass at her. All the more reason she had to get out of this place.
When the last of Lorenzo’s uncles and nieces paid their respects and she and Pedro were alone, she looked him straight in the eyes.
“We need to talk.”
Pedro nodded. “I don’t think I need to remind you that what happened in the family stays in the family. Or what will happen if you sing like a bird.”
She could read between the lines just fine: keep your trap shut about Lorenzo’s double life.
It was difficult to not give him the finger. “Duly noted.”
He nodded. “Good. There’s much to discuss.”
No, there wasn’t. “I’m leaving.” When his jaw set, she added, “I can’t play the grieving widow any longer. I’m not as good an actor as you are.” His lips thinned, but he didn’t deny it. They both knew how he had felt living in his brother’s shadow his entire life. “You have what you wanted all along. You’re head of the Family now.”
“The lawyer will need your signature for the will.”
She highly doubted Lorenzo had left her and Vicky anything. Regardless, she didn’t want anything from him. All she wanted was their freedom.
“I will sign any paper as long as it’s clear that I’m leaving in the morning. After that, I never want to see another Morelli again.”
His eyes flashed, and the still-rebellious part of her reveled in it. Was it smart to go off against him? Probably not, but it had been ages since she had been allowed to speak her mind without it having any repercussions. Any time she’d done something that didn’t please Lorenzo, it had had severe consequences.
Missing Vicky’s first birthday.
Not being allowed to speak to her girl for a week.
Lorenzo had been a master at using her weakness against her. It had been how he’d forced her to marry him in the first place. Not that it mattered any longer. The past was dead and incinerated. There hadn’t even been a body left to be buried, since Lorenzo had been blown up into pieces. Another bygone. Another chapter of her life was closing. All she could do now was look forward.
Sadly, when she looked straight ahead, the icing on an already crappy day came into her view—her cousin, Giorgia. A six-foot, Versace-clad python graced with the figure of a supermodel. Unlike Elena, she wore her designer outfits perfectly. Her lips were smeared in a shiny red, too much for a funeral, but then again, that was Giorgia, always wanting to have all the attention. And it worked; men of all ages, from the busboy handing out drinks to the gathered capos, had their eyes on her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Giorgia said, putting on her perpetual fake smile.
At least she didn’t make an attempt to kiss her.
“Thank you,” Elena said, returning her smile.
“Must be hard, losing yet another man in your life.”
