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Rosa di Bella has never been a mother to me. Since I can remember, she’s kept a controlling grip on my life, telling me what to eat, how much to weigh, what to wear, and how to behave.
I’m nothing more than a bargaining chip, while my older brother is the crowned prince who will take over from my father. Santo can do whatever he wants and gets away with murder. Literally.
I was an accident. My parents were content with only having Santo, but then I came along, burdening their perfect lives with my unwanted presence.
They can’t wait to pawn me off on Stefano Ferraro. They’ll get a son-in-law who’s related to the most powerful man in our world. And they’ll be rid of me.
My mother gives me another glare before she takes the stairs down. As I follow reluctantly behind her, I hear my brother shout, “He’s here!”
When the foyer comes into view, it’s in time to see Santo open the front door.
A man comes up the steps, his head bowed while he unbuttons his suit jacket. He shrugs off the jacket, and without glancing back, he hands it to a man who seems to be his guard.
As he lifts his head, I suck in a desperate breath of air, my gaze stuck on the Capo dei Capi of the Cosa Nostra. With his features carved into a ruthless expression that promises agonizing pain and death, he looks like the God he is.
The dominance and power exploding from him keep my attention imprisoned.
I can’t tear my gaze away from him. Even if I wanted to.
He’s tall, dark, and utterly handsome. The man gives me the impression of a thunderstorm moving over the world, engulfing everything in darkness.
Damiano Falco.
As I think his name, his dark eyes lock with mine, and I swear they’re black as death. An intense shiver shudders over my body, and I can’t stop myself from taking a step backward.
Suddenly, Mother grabs my wrist, and I’m yanked forward. My shoes slip on the floor the servants polished until they could see their reflections on the shiny surface.
Before I can try to catch my balance, I fall to my knees while my mother’s fingers tighten around my wrist, making a sharp pain shoot up my arm. My free hand slaps against the tiled floor to stop me from face-planting in front of everyone.
“Get up,” Stefano growls beneath his breath.
Intense embarrassment burns through me, and before I can scramble back onto my feet, Damiano walks right by me, his steps filled with confidence and threats of death.
Mother yanks at my wrist, sending another sharp pain up my arm. “You’re embarrassing us,” she hisses between clenched teeth.
I struggle to my feet, in time to see all the men rush after Damiano. Even though this is his first time here, he heads straight for the living room.
Stefano shoots me a dark glare that promises nothing good for me before he disappears from my sight.
I’m yanked again, and I barely have time to fix my dress as my mother hurries to catch up to the men.
“Stop yanking me,” I snap at Mother while managing to rip my wrist free from her hold.
She shoots me an angry glare, that’s usually followed by a slap, but we enter the living room, making her restrain herself because of present company.
I notice Damiano’s pouring himself a tumbler of my father’s best bourbon while all the men look at him with anticipation on their faces.
My eyes dart over the gun tucked into his pants' waistband before locking on his broad shoulders. He turns around, and as he takes a sip of the drink, his eyes slowly creep over everyone in the room.
“You must be tired, cousin,” Stefano says. “Why not take an hour to rest before we sit down for the meeting?”
Damiano doesn’t even acknowledge what his cousin says, and when his eyes lock on me for a second time, the shiver rushing over my body is more intense than before.
His lips part, and I swear I can feel everyone hold their breaths as they wait to hear what the Capo dei Capi has to say.
“Come,” he orders. His low and deadly tone is filled with ice, making a wintry chill spread through my veins.
When I don’t move, Mother shoves me in Damiano’s direction.
