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It’s a welcome change from the liquid fire Dante poured me.

Kicking off my shoes, I walk to the windows and take another pull from the bottle as I gaze out at the glittering city below.

The sky is almost gone now. The last streak of pink has dissolved into the dark blue, and the city lights have taken over, turning the windows into a wall of glitter.

I press my forehead against the cold window, and my breath fogs a small circle on the glass. Feeling numb and confused, I draw a smiley face in the fog with my finger.

Two days ago, I was Sunny Meadows.

Now I’m Mrs. Di Zaro.

And I have no idea what that means.

I take another chug of champagne. The bottle is a third empty, and my head is starting to float.

My other hand finds the locket at my throat.

My mom would have hated all of this. The penthouse, the forced marriage to the rich casino owner who takes whatever he wants just because he can.

She would have stormed in here, grabbed me by the arm, dragged me out, and told Dante Di Zaro exactly where he could shove his arrangement.

I grip the locket tight.

“I’m okay, Mom,” I whisper to the glass. “I’m okay.”

I’m not going to cry.

I am done crying over things that men do to me.

I take another long pull from the bottle.

The smiley face on the window has faded. I draw another.

But this time I give it horns.

17

DANTE

An hour after leaving my bride so I could mindlessly stare at documents on my desk, John Marco appears in my doorway.

He's standing with his hands in his pockets and his jaw set in a way that makes him look exactly like our father.

His face is somber, so I know what he’s about to tell me is serious.

"What happened?" I say.

He steps inside and closes the door quietly behind him. And John Marco never does things quietly.

"Katie Vaughn. One of the servers on the floor."

“What about her?” I ask.

"She finished her shift around three this morning," he says. "A customer had been removed earlier in the night. Got aggressive with her on the floor. Handsy. Security threw him out."

"And?"

"He waited for her." His voice is flat, darkness crawling into his blue eyes. This is the version of John Marco that makes dangerous men nervous. "In the parking garage. Near her car."