Chapter One

Diana

I’ve always liked the snow.

I think that sitting here, watching the snowfall covering every inch of my family’s home, is one of the more peaceful ways to spend an evening.

My mom’s been searching for me for the better part of half an hour now. I’ve heard her walking up and down the halls, first calling my name and then screeching it. Dunno why she didn’t think to check the balcony; I’m always out here.

Since Nathaniel went missing, she is holding onto me far more tightly. Too tightly. It’s not that I don’t love my mother, or that I have a bad relationship with her, because I don’t. Most days, my mother is one of my very best friends, but since her son—my brother, also known as the head of the Angelo family—Nathaniel went missing, she’s been a little less composed.

She plays the dutiful, stoic leader and stands in whenever there’s anybody around, but whenever it’s just the two of us and those loyal to the Angelo family in the house, she can get a little neurotic.

I get it.

She’s lost her son, her oldest child, and she’s left with me. Nathaniel is the sort of man you can turn to for anything at all; he fit my father’s shoes perfectly whenever he stepped in as head of the family. I know she worries that if an unknown something happened to Nathaniel of all people, it might very well happen to me as well.

She’s been waiting for a ransom call—we all have—for some news as to his condition, and things have been painfully silent. My mother had no desire to be head of this family; she never wanted to run the empire any more than I have. The stress of it alone has been doing terrible things to both her body and her persona.

Nathaniel was always more like Dad, loud and larger than life. Being the head of the family was never a burden to him. It was a crown that he was happy to wear, and he was well suited for it. I was more than happy to let him handle the whole thing. Even if a woman was allowed to run the show as head of the family, I wouldn’t have wanted it anyway. It was too starchy, and I like my freedom. Just another reason why I like driving.

There’s no way to know what happened to Nathaniel or where he might be, but I know in my bones that he’s alive somewhere. We have the best private investigators and our entire network of contacts working on finding out leads and information.

I just hope they find something soon.

I think that’s the second biggest worry in my mother’s mind, that without a male to lead the family she’s not sure how long she will be able to bide our time before the vultures start to circle, intent on picking apart the famous Angelo family bit by bit.

Perhaps that’s why I need my alone time even more right now.

Sometimes looking my mother in the face and seeing the silent question of if Nathaniel is dead or not on her features is more than I can handle.

Attached to my bedroom is a small balcony, the sort of setup that is great for reading while enjoying early morning coffee. The view of the grounds is absolutely stunning. You can see everything for at least half a mile, and it’s high up enough to see clearly over the stables. My mother will likely head down there next to where her beloved racing horses are barned, being kept warm and well cared for by a whole team of equestrians. I’ve always liked it down there, but I’ve never been much of a rider.

Beside my balcony, the roof slants downward and is easy enough to step onto. I’m sitting there now, listening to her searching through the open balcony doors. The carpet just inside of my room is going to be soaked through with the melted snow, and I just can’t bring myself to care. It’s peaceful, and after the day that I’ve had, I need peace. Whatever my mother wants me to do is just going to have to wait.

I pull my blanket further around my shoulders, pulling my glass of red wine closer to my body as the snow swallows up all of the sounds around me. The entirety of our property is blanketed in white.

Sure enough, moments later, warm yellow light spills out over the grounds below me, disrupting the stillness of the night, and my mother starts stomping her way out toward the stables in search of me. She’ll get distracted in there. She always does. I chuckle to myself, content to spend my evening attempting to uncoil the knots of tension and dread that have taken hold of my shoulders and threaten to cripple me.

The door to my bedroom slams open, and I nearly fumble the wine right out of my hand.

“Miss!”

I don’t have time to even clamber off the roof before the owner of the voice is stomping through my room. She slammed the door so hard behind her that I can hear the thing bounce in the frame before she comes barreling onto the balcony.

“Oh, Diana! It’s the worst thing ever!” Violet wails. She’s never been very good as a maid, but she’s always been a much better friend to me. I think we blurred the lines between staff and friendship too far, too long ago to even attempt to put things back the way they were. She could stop working tomorrow, and I think she would still stay here on payroll just so that I can hang out with her every day.

If it were anybody else, I might have taken more offense to the intrusion, or at the very least I might seem slightly more concerned about the tone that she’s using. The clear urgency is written all over her face, but the unfortunate truth of the matter is that Violet’s always been on the dramatic side. Until I know what the cause for the theatrics is, I don’t know what level of invested I need to be.

“What is it, V? You know that I can’t understand you when you cry that hard.” My voice is nothing but patient as I scoot from the roof tiles toward my friend. I make it to the edge of the roof before she throws herself at me, and I’m forced to scoop her up into my blanket as I hold her.

“V, you’re trembling.” My hands rub in alternating directions, wrapped in blanket, up and down her back. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

If she makes me guess then we are going to be here for a long, long time. Last week she cried because the blueberries in the pancakes she made me didn’t come out the way that she wanted them to. I’ve seen her cry because a puppy was too cute, and she couldn’t physically process it. I saw her break her arm once, and she hardly even flinched. She’s never reacted to things in the way that I would have thought that she would. This could be anything from a chipped nail to her mother’s death.

“It’s Thomas!”

My shoulders relax, something she takes instant offense to and pulls away.

“No! Diana, it’s not what you think!”

“And what do I think, V? Did you break up again?”

“What?! No!” she blubbers, as if that hadn’t happened twice last week, not that she ever let that impressively sized rock off her finger for a second. They had called off their wedding more times than I could count. At this point, I was almost going to take the bet that Girard, my butler, kept offering me as to whether or not she was actually going to make it down the aisle to Thomas. I didn’t mind the guy; he was a security guard assigned to the perimeters of our house. They had a really cute little love story, but man, was it hard to keep up with them.

“Then what happened?”

“They took him!”

That sobers me up quickly. “Who took him? Tell me exactly what happened, V,” I say seriously, my hands gripping her arms and forcing her to look into my eyes. Her normally pale face is ruddy and peppered with splotches from her crying.  Her gorgeous red hair is a halo of messy curls sticking out of the bun that she attempts to wrangle it into for work, but it nearly always comes undone over the course of the day. She looks like she’s been crying a while.

“I—” Violet sniffs. She pulls away from me and starts pacing the length of my balcony like the rapidly thickening snow if of no consequence to her whatsoever. “I don’t know…he was at his new job when he called me.”

“The moonlighting one?”

Violet nods, “Mmhm, the one he’s been doing to get those store discounts that he likes. He’s trying to let me redecorate our space before the wedding; he’s sweet like that.” Violet’s chin dimples as if him being sweet and indulging in her rapidly changing opinions on decor makes her miss him even more. “We were on the phone, and he started whispering to me really fast. I tried to tell him that I couldn’t understand what he was saying and he needed to slow down…that I couldn’t hear him. And he shushed me, which he never does. And then he got real quiet…it switched over to a video call, but then he dropped the phone and-and there were feet, and they came up on him real quiet, and I could see them fighting, and then he hit the ground. My baby, he fell to the ground, and I couldn’t do anything. And they took him—they took him away.”

“Who took him, V? Did you see any of their faces?” I’m already switching into defensive mode; that internal training and my desire to constantly fix things is already kicking in hard. “Tell me he told you who they were…or what he thought. Tell me that he told you something that will help us get him back.”

Violet flusters, and I can see her attempting to squash down the dramatics and recall anything that might be useful.

“He didn’t do anything, did he? I know you hate talking about it, V, but he did have that gambling problem…are you sure that it wasn’t—”

“No! I’ve been watching our accounts so close, and he’s banned from like all of the bars here. You know that. He can’t even step foot into a casino, and I thank you for that, so much. He said something about the Lords…”

My jaw tightens, anger heating my core, and suddenly I can’t feel the snow at all. “Rat bastards,” I swear, my teeth grinding together. “What could they want with Thomas? Everybody knows that he does guard work for us. He’s supposed to be protected.”

As is everybody that works for the Angelo family. We’re a bit of a big deal, something that I choose not to acknowledge overly often unless it suits me. Plenty of people would love to be the beloved daughter of a powerful mafia family, sure—and then there’s the Angelo family. We’re practically royalty in this town, rivaled by only one family: the Lords.

If they have the nerve to interfere with our business…that’s not a misunderstanding.

“What am I going to do?!” Violet’s lip sucks between her teeth, the panic gripping her again. “What if they hurt him? I can’t lose him, Diana. I can’t…I love him.”

“I know you do, V. Nothing bad is going to happen to him.”

She came to me for a reason after all.

“I’m going to fix this. Right now. Don’t you worry.” I wrap her into my blanket and pull the edges around her tightly, leaning in to kiss her forehead in a friendly gesture. “You sit here and flip through channels or something to kill the time, and I’ll be back with Thomas before you know it.”

“What are you going to do?!”

“I may not like it, but I know the Lord family very well, V. They will talk to me if I show up on their door, and it’s going to mean a hell of a lot more coming from me and asking soft questions than it will if my mom goes over there and starts throwing around accusations, don’t you think?”

Violet looks like she might want to protest but thinks better of it. Even if she did, I’ve made up my mind, and there’s no way that I’m going to change it. “The snow…Diana, you can’t go. Haven’t you heard the news? They are saying that a blizzard is supposed to hit town any hour now. They’ve been telling people to stock up on candles and water in case we are all without power for a few days. I can’t let you go out there.”

“Let me?”

“You can’t go! Thomas is already missing. I’m not going to have you chasing after him on my behalf and then have to have a search team dig you and your car out of a snowbank weeks from now because you got swallowed by the blizzard!”

I stop, looking out over the grounds once more. I take extra care to study the sky, judging the clouds and how the snow is presently falling, and shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just have to go now.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“That’s not necessary; they are supposedly friends of my family these days. I can handle myself, V.”

“I know that you can, but I cannot have that fear on my conscious. I am going with you, and that’s final. At least that way your mom won’t blame me if something happens to you.”

I laugh, crossing to my massive walk-in closet and flinging open the doors. I march inside and select a winter coat with faux fur trim I got at a PETA auction last year and pull on my snow boots. I toss another jacket out onto my bed for Violet, motioning for her to go ahead and put it on. There’s no room for debate, and she complies.

“The real question is which car do we take?” It’s not really a question. I definitely have my favorite out of the cars in the garage, but my heart belongs to my Range Rover. We take the back elevator down to the garage, and the lights turn on as we walk into the space. The waves of anxiety are practically radiating off of Violet as we move, but to her credit, she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t attempt to talk me out of driving either. The staff has given up on attempting to talk me out of driving myself places. I allow all of the other luxuries offered to me, but this is for me.

Violet is a statue in the seat beside me. We should have at least said something to my mom before leaving. I honestly don’t know what she would do if I didn’t return or if anything happened to me. My mother’s grip on me has been too tight with Nathaniel missing; she would never allow me to go to the Lord property in the dead of night. She would kill me herself if she knew what I was planning. She would insist on sending a small fleet of security with me, and we don’t have the time. If Thomas had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he said the wrong thing to the wrong person, then I am exactly the right person to smooth things over.

I will not beg.

I refuse.

I could never beg to men like them, certainly not given my personal history with one Lord in particular, so we’ll just hope that it doesn’t come to that. They will listen to me, and if they don’t, then I will just have to make them.

Hostage negotiations aren’t my thing, but talking to arrogant men who think they know everything while also holding positions of power? Well, that I’ve been trained for my whole life. If they have Thomas, I’m going to get him back.

 

Chapter Two

Stephan

My arrival back into town was a little ahead of schedule.

I liked to make an entrance whenever I returned home from an extended period of time away, but I liked the element of surprise even better.

When I arrived at my family home, I thought that I might be awaited somehow anyway. My father tended to have a way of knowing just about everything that happened, most of all his only son’s arrival back home.

When the entryway was empty as I stepped inside out of the rapidly worsening snowstorm, I started to grow concerned.

Normally, my father would have made quite an elaborate deal out of parading the staff and any guests down to the entryway to greet me before insisting that he take me to the same restaurant that he always does, nevermind that it was never my favorite but my father’s favorite, but I was always happy to indulge him.

My gloves are yanked off my hands and tossed haphazardly over my shoulder; my scarf and jacket follow quickly after as I move into the belly of the large house. I couldn’t slow down long enough to pull my shoes from my feet, and they track fresh powder through the entry hall and then wet tracks on the plush carpet runner of the halls as I search for the man in question.

He summons me here in the black of night, and now he’s triggering my temper by making me wait. Whatever was so important that couldn’t be put into words in a text is now something that I absolutely must know. It’s been a little while since I’ve been back here, in my father’s home. I don’t have the time or patience to mentally track the changes that have been made or wonder if my room is still the same. Sentimental sap of an old man that I have, it was nearly impossible to convince him that as an adult I no longer needed to keep a childhood bedroom and would, in fact, be perfectly fine with a standard guest room when I visited, and he refused. He said it was insane to him to think that his only son wouldn’t have a dedicated space.

“Uncle William!” I bellow, waiting for him to show his round face, fully expecting for it to come popping around a corner at any moment. “Dad?!” I call even louder; surely they heard my car pull up. I had sent word that I would be back in the county this week. It’s not unusual for one or both of them to invite me over when I get back into town. It always feels like the only times that Dad ever allows himself to have a true break from the empire that he’s built is whenever I come back into town.

If he wanted to get drunk and play Pictionary all night, then he could just say that, but he doesn’t.

This is insane. Our property is simply too large to play this game and search every room. I set my feet on a course to my father’s office and pull my phone from my pocket, quickly dialing first my father and then my uncle and back again. William, my uncle, almost never has his phone on him, so that’s not usual for him to not answer. But my father never misses a phone call. The man always texts back within two hours, even if it’s the middle of the night.

He’s only ever been the stone-cold, ruthless mafia boss in public. Inside of these walls, he was never that person to me. Even if he used tough love rather liberally when it came to my upbringing, I never grew up without love.

The fact that he’s now missed five of my phone calls in a row…that’s what’s setting off the red flags in my head, blazing bright like beacons of warning that something is about to happen that I’m in no way prepared for.

William is seated in my father’s office. The supple leather armchair is used for guests that hold meetings with my father, but he’s sitting too stiff in it. William’s not a small man. Standing at six feet, he used to be an athlete but has physically softened with age, and his gut shows the rounding of a man who indulges in too much alcohol. He’s always had a round face, cherubic; he was like catnip to women in ways I never quite mastered.

William sits on the front edge of the chair, his spine too rigid as if he were in the middle of a conversation he couldn’t fathom having…but he’s alone. My father doesn’t sit across from him. I feel like I already know the news that I’m about to receive, even before he motions for me to sit down. “Have a seat, son.”

Would sitting make this news easier to hear? The knot in my throat forms before he even speaks, something about the way William’s jaw clenches, the sad look in his eyes, and I know. I just know.

My hand scrubs down the lower half of my face, and I stare at the seat offered to me as if the news cannot be real until I sit, that if I just keep standing here, he’s not about to tell me that my father is dead. If I sit there…then it’s all going to be real, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Can anybody really be ready for that?

My legs carry me to the chair, and I know I sit, but it all feels like a blur, a distant reality in which I’m allowed to live outside of my body. It’s a good thing that William doesn’t start speaking right away because my ears are ringing, and the room feels like it’s closing in on me.

I allow the moment of despair to last all of thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of wallow and ache, of mourning and a total, nearly consuming feeling of loss.

Then I push it away, and I will myself to be stone. I harden my exterior and narrow my focus to William and the fact that he needs to tell me what happened. “How?” There’s no need to beat around the bush, no need to worry about my emotions. It’s simpler to keep things clinical; I’ll have time for the rest of it later.

William swallows hard, as if he wants to offer me words of comfort or at least a playful slap to the side of my arm. “Shot.”

My head dips, and my hands clasp one another. My knuckles turn white with the force of my concentration.

“Caught bullets two nights ago. There was an ambush outside of our offices…” William trails off.

I have at least five follow-up questions to that statement, and William pauses to let me select them in the order I wish to ask them.

“Where were you?”

“Right beside him, all the way to the hospital. The doctors did everything that they could. The finest surgeons attempted to save him…but the damage was too much.”

I nod, unable to sit still; he should have called me. I would have flown home early. He could have gotten ahold of me, and I could have been here to be with my father for his last minutes. I would have taken a private jet and gotten here as fast as physically possible. Rage for the moments stolen surface, and I push those feelings down with the others. “Was he in pain?” The words come out too quickly, and I lift my hand to stop William from answering the question I didn’t mean to ask. I don’t want to know the answer. “Where are the bastards that shot my father?”

“We have everybody looking into it.”

That’s it? He must sense my affront to it because he keeps speaking.

“There’s more.”

“More than the fact that my father was gunned down in front of his own offices without provocation…and left to die on a surgeon’s table, and nobody thought to call me…you mean that there is more than that? You’ve had two nights to tell me, and you didn’t bother? There are arrangements to be made; there is business to attend to, not to mention the countless contracts that must be maintained. Or were you attempting to make a play for office yourself, William?”

My eyes are fire as they lift to my uncle’s; he’s never made any indication that he wanted the throne for himself, to take the seat that my father occupied. I thought that was why he was choosing to symbolically sit in the chair he chose.

“What? Stephan, I have no interest in being head of family.”

I stand, moving around the side of the desk to my father’s chair, hating that this will be where I sit now. It’s a job that I know I can do, and I know I can do it well. I’ve always been a natural leader…but I wasn’t ready to lose my father quite so soon. I pull the chair out and move in front of it, but I don’t sit. “Good. Then I’m going to need his medical reports, the life insurance policies, and his itinerary for the week.” Mentally, I’ve already started pushing aside all of my personal contracts and business happenings of my own companies because I know that I’m going to be needed here.

“That’s the other thing, Stephan; my son has expressed to myself and some others that he is intending to place his bid for head of the family.”

“Elijah?” I laugh incredulously. “His claim is shaky at best. He was my father. Elijah would be a reckless choice.”

My personal history with Elijah is shaky at best. I know him better than anybody else has managed to in his life, I’m fairly certain, and I know for a fact that he’s the last person I want in charge of this family. He’s hot-headed, temperamental, and far too impulsive. Despite the fact that he’s thirty-three, and three years older than myself, he’s about half as mature as I’ve ever been. Always the type to jump first and think about the consequences after the fact. There was no shoot first, ask questions later—there was only ever just shooting.

“He says that since he’s the oldest heir that his claim is as solid as yours to the throne and that he will not be turned aside. Believe me, Stephan, I’ve tried to talk him out of this. That’s why we had delays in funeral arrangements as well as getting you back here into the mansion for talks…he’s already attempting to make moves.”

“Well, I’ll just have to nip that in the bud, won’t I?”

“I sure hope that you’re going to have a lot more luck than I’ve had. The boy never listened to me before, and I doubt that he’s going to start doing so now. Elijah’s always been a greedy little shit; there’s no denying that.” William says, not hiding the fact that he and his son rarely have ever seen eye to eye and clearly not on this issue either. “He’s not somebody you can trust, Stephan; you know that.”

“Right,” I agree. “So what’s the question then? Just ignore him.”

“It’s not that easy, I’m afraid. It seems that some people have actually started to support his claims. The cousins are on the verge of being threatened into an agreement; his tongue is as silver as ever.”

“People do love his particular breed of chaos.”

“You just need to cement your claim, Stephan. Then all of this will be over, and we can get right back to business as usual.”

There will never be business as usual again, not without my father. I’m not sure that I’m going to be okay with this particular brand of new normal, but I say nothing. Instead, I make a gesture for him to continue speaking; if he has a suggestion then I want him to get it out into the open so that I can move forward. There’s so much to do, and I cannot risk being idle. If I don’t start on what needs to be done, and right away, then there’s a small chance that I won’t be able to start at all.

Despite what my reputation might claim about me, I am very capable of having emotions. I know all too well that people call me cold, heartless, ruthless, downright evil behind my back. That’s exactly what I’ve always needed them to call me; it’s a part that I play very well. That was one thing that I learned from my father very early on in life: that in this game, you only get anywhere by your reputation, and men looked up to men they could fear and see as a leader at the same time. I’ve always embodied that publicly to every person I’ve met.

Personal feelings are for private, another gem of knowledge that my father lived by.

Lived.

The knot in my throat grows, and, like all the rest, I force it lower, mind over matter as I look to William, waiting for his answer.

“The simplest way to strengthen your claim is a unified family front, which means that you need to find a wife.”

“A wife?!” I echo.

“Yes. Preferably from a high-born mafia family and as soon as you can before my son catches wise to that same idea and makes his moves.”

The idea of Elijah with a wife is impossible. I can’t imagine the sort of woman that might agree to such a union and least of all by choice. Not because he’s considered ugly or because he’s not without a certain charm, but I don’t think there’s ever been a woman capable of sticking around him for that long. Elijah is a powerful man, and despite all of the rest of it, I do consider him a friend, not just family. Elijah’s priority will always be serving the family, the Lord family, not a wife; she would only get in his way.

“One does not just pluck a wife out of thin air, William, and a high-born mafia daughter at that? They aren’t the sort that can be bought in the first place.”

“I have a few trusted men compiling a list of currently single women that might be suitable to you for your consideration, and whoever you choose, we will fly her right out here and make her an offer that she simply cannot refuse.”

“I see. You’ve just thought of everything, haven’t you William?”

“Son, I know that it’s not ideal, and I know it’s sudden and rather eliminates the whole love side of things out of the picture. But this is hardly uncommon; it’s been done for political power and influence for generations.”

“You do not need to lecture me about our family history, William; I know it just as well as you. Just because I’ve chosen to spend my time pursuing my own business ventures over these last few years doesn’t mean that I’ve been out of the loop here.”

“Of course not, and I would expect nothing less from you. Just like your father, always able to see everything at the same time and three steps ahead of the rest of us.”

I should have seen the wife aspect coming. Really, it’s such an obvious solution but one I’ve had little to no interest in finding for myself. I’ve been busy expanding our capital, our influence, and business range…and in truth, I’ve been indulging myself as I wanted. What I never would have seen coming is that, the moment that William suggested it, one name came to mind. The only daughter of the nearest mafia family…and a woman who has sworn to hate me for all time.

 

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Chapter One

Clelia

Staying up all night waiting for my brother is getting on my nerves. This isn’t the first time he’s stumbled in at the crack of dawn smelling of liquor and the perfume of loose women with questionable values.

But of course, he doesn’t care how much I worry about him.

My father claims that it’s just a phase he’s going through, that all young men must blow off some steam, but I’m not convinced. His mood swings are getting increasingly unpredictable, and driving home drunk is something he does too often―to my chagrin.

I always jump out of my skin when I hear his car squealing to a stop in the driveway. Losing our mother sent him into a tailspin, and I can’t always be the voice of reason.

But my brother is not the only one I’m worrying about. My father is also falling apart before my eyes. There isn’t a moment where he doesn’t have a drink in his hand. The photograph of my mother is tear-stained from his pining in the middle of the night for something he can’t have.

The house is desolate, and the only sound anyone can hear is the clock down the hallway.  It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She didn’t want to admit it, but she told me in confidence it was garishly ugly. It’s the thought that counts, though. He’s never been good at finding the right gift.

However, I don’t have time to grieve when my family demands my full attention. I can’t follow them around twenty-four hours a day, but I can be there when they walk in, ashamed of whatever they’re doing. The guilt is in their eyes―they look at their shoes, afraid to look at me. And even though I really disapprove of their ways, I know that it’s not fair to judge them.

They have every right to lash out, even in ways I don’t approve.

I’ve considered talking to them about going into family therapy, but I’m not sure how they’ll receive it. They know I fret. The world is a dangerous place, especially when someone is under the influence of alcohol. Who knows what could happen to them?

My white terrycloth robe is cinched tight at the waist. I toy with the strap nervously, pacing at the front door. The sun is already up, and I can hear the birds singing in the trees.

I catch my reflection in the glass of the door and I almost don’t recognize myself. It shows a woman older than her twenty-four years. The haggard expression is reserved for mothers waiting for their children to come home after a late night. I don’t want to be a replacement for my mother, but they leave me little choice.

A powerful engine approaches and comes to an abrupt stop at the door. Lucas is home, and it’s a miracle that he managed to arrive in one piece. That’s evident by the tire tracks on the lawn. The red sports car is angled with the wheels digging into the earth.

I open the door and wait impatiently with my arms crossed. Boy, he is about to get scolded…

Lucas Stephens is walking a dangerous path. Life is harsh, but he’s the only one that can make his own happiness. Drowning himself in alcohol, thinking that he will be able to forget our misfortunes, won’t help him. He doesn’t understand the concept, but I continue to preach responsibility and obligation to the family, just in case someone hears my pleas.

He walks towards me, unsteady on his feet. He’s barely able to hold onto the empty beer can clutched in his fist. He almost falls but manages to hold onto the car to steady himself, though he doesn’t lose hold of the can.

This is as bad as I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he needs to fall deeper into a dark hole before he can crawl back out of it. They say hitting rock bottom is the only way an alcoholic is going to learn. I’m not sure that I want to wait when it already kills me to see him losing everything, including his girlfriend.

“Do I even want to ask where you’ve been?” I ask sternly.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures, dear baby sister. Besides, I should be frowning at you! Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all night. It just continues to go to voicemail,” he replies with his words slurring, while he runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly like a child who’s done mischief.

He’s not the usual polished young man, coming home after a hard day’s work.

“Look at yourself,” I refer to the white shirt hanging loosely over his pants with his zipper half undone.

There are lipstick marks on his cheek and neck, with the pungent aroma of perfume surrounding him in a halo. He’s lost a shoe, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. His blond, gray hair is in disarray, with a few locks floating aimlessly over his dark blue eyes.

“I don’t need you looking at me like that. I tried to reach you,” he continues while draining the last few drops from the beer can.

“Couldn’t you call in our home number? My phone went dead. It’s currently charging in my bedroom. Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been up? I’m ready to wash my hands of you,” I say, rolling my eyes in frustration.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” he says before dropping the can at my feet with the remnants dripping onto my bare toes.

I take a deep breath and try desperately to hold my tongue. “I made sure there’s coffee ready for you when you came home. Drink some and take a shower before we discuss anything that you want. You stink,” I say with my finger pointing into his chest to get his undivided attention.

“Clelia, I don’t need coffee or a shower. What I need is another drink. Something stronger than beer. I’m sure father has something at the bar,” he says while stumbling into the living room until he falls to his knees, mumbling something under his breath.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to sober up and take a shower before father comes home,” I add.

He glances over his shoulder, and I see tears in his eyes. Oh my God, what has happened?

“I needed you this night. I was the one that had to identify his body in that cold, impersonal morgue. Do you have any idea what seeing him like that did to me?” Lucas says.

He’s crawling now across the carpet toward the bar, and I can hear my heart thumping.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” I say. In truth, I’m afraid that once I do, my whole world will change again.

I’m standing in front of him, blocking his path to the bottle of bourbon.

“He was found on the street like a stray dog. My number was the latest call on his phone. They called me,” he said with his finger pointing at his chest while trying to keep his head high.

“Who was found on the street?” I inquire with my eyes narrowed, trying to calm myself down, trying to make myself believe that it is not my worst fear coming alive.

I’m staring daggers at him.

“He died of blunt trauma to the head, just one block over from the Leonessa Strip Club. You know he hasn’t been able to stay away from the place. It was just a matter of time before somebody saw him as an easy mark,” Lucas says.

The realization of what he’s been trying to say strikes me like lightning. It can’t be true. I just saw him yesterday afternoon. We had a horrible argument about his drinking and carousing all hours of the day and night.

These habits of his aren’t just affecting the family, but he’s also losing respect from his peers. Our small candy factory is suffering, and several creditors are already knocking on the door.

“No Lucas, no…you have to be mistaken. Father cannot be dead. Why would you be so cruel, as to say such things to me?”

“I saw him with my own eyes lying there, Clelia―lifeless. I had warned him many times about going to Leonessa. I truly did! You just know Constantino Negrini had something to do with this. That man is a danger to everybody around him,” he says while looking up at me.

“Oh my God…you’re telling the truth.” The full weight of his words is finally sinking in, and the name Lucas mentions has come out of many people’s nightmares.

Constantino Negrini, owner of the Leonessa Strip Club and many more illicit businesses. His reputation isn’t good, but nothing ever sticks to him. He’s been arrested a few times but has good lawyers on a retainer. Any crime connected to him isn’t all that surprising. The man is the devil personified. Not much is known about his background, and he’s been the subject of several investigations already. They even raided his home and club but found nothing to incriminate him.

Police officers lost their jobs when they came back empty-handed, and now, Lucas tells me that he must be involved in my father’s death…

Losing my mother feels like it happened yesterday, but thirteen years have passed. On the anniversary of her death, my family begins to unravel. My father’s trips to the strip club and gambling have racked up some good, fat debts. I’m not sure, but I think he got into bed with the wrong people using our candy factory to help smuggle goods in and out of the country. There’s no concrete proof, and my father was reluctant to talk about it despite my growing concerns. And now these concerns seem to have become reality.

I fall back against the wall with my hand to my beating heart.

“I think it was murder.”

“What?” I stare at him. “Murder? Who would want to murder father? He was a good man.”

Lucas gives a lopsided shrug and rises to his feet.

“You know what people will do when they’re giving out punishment. It can often go too far, and then they panic.”

“What are you talking about?”

For a while, I think that my brother didn’t hear me. Lucas stands staring into the void.

“Lucas, talk to me. What are you talking about?”

“I know who killed our father. He’s said as much to my face before. And with his temper…” Lucas turns, his reddened eyes locking with mine. “I never thought he would carry it out, though. I thought it was just talk to frighten us.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“It was Constantino Negrini.” Lucas blinks a few times and then looks away, rubbing his eyes hard.

“This is the second time that you are mentioning him. Why would the owner of a club murder father? What would he gain from that?”

“Non-payment of debts.”

“But father always tried to pay his debts.”

Lucas grunts.

“He doesn’t always tell you everything, Clelia. Father was in more debt than you realize. And he refused to accept it until Negrini addressed it. Negrini threatened to do some damage to him if he didn’t pay it last night. Now look what’s happened.”

Constantino Negrini. My father’s murderer. Even as that sinks in, I can feel a part of me fighting that logic.

“A club owner wouldn’t murder someone simply because he owes them money.”

“You don’t know Constantino Negrini,” Lucas says darkly. “He’s a very vindictive, hot-tempered man. He’ll do anything to get his own way, and he’s always close to snapping.”

“But to murder a man because of an unpaid debt…”

“He is a mafia boss, Clelia. A Don, a mobster.” Lucas shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I warned father that we shouldn’t be going there anymore, but father said he could handle it. He always thought he could handle it.” He begins to shake, and then he starts towards the door. “Excuse me, Clelia, but I…I need to be alone.”

I stare after him as my brother leaves, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the vase on a nearby table topple off and smash to pieces on the floor.

 

Constantino

It’s not my proudest moment, but it had to be done. Nobody disrespects me, and I don’t care what their family name invokes in others.

I use one of my monogrammed handkerchiefs to open the door with my hands covered in blood.

It’s not my own, but sometimes business needs me to take a more personal approach. The look in the man’s eyes was priceless. He tried to barter for his life, but he should have thought about that before double crossing me. Backing out of a business deal is one thing. Selling my merchandise to the Russians thinking that they can get away with it, is something completely different.

His blood stains my soul, but it’s not the first time. I’ve had to make an example out of somebody, and even though I’m not usually the one to get my hands dirty anymore, I’m willing to make some exceptions to the rule.

He’s not dead, but he wishes he was.

The house is quiet when I enter. Nobody is there to greet me, and I go straight to the bathroom underneath the stairs to wash up.

Watching the blood flow down the drain is a cathartic exercise, but it doesn’t wash away the sin. Nothing ever will, because everybody needs to know about what happens when they cross me.

Upstairs I hear my boy scream. I clutch my fist while staring at my cold dead eyes reflected in the mirror.

“That little bastard,” I mutter. I thought it was going to be different this time. He promised me he would be on his best behavior.

Can it be that I’m asking too much of him? I know that he’s never been the same since his mother left. I cannot fill that void, but I give him everything and I’m trying to keep him busy and entertained 24/7. Apparently, it’s not enough.

Otello is a difficult child with tantrums, and extreme therapy has done little to curb his attitude. Of course, some doctor wouldn’t be able to get through to him that easily. He is my son after all. It’s in our Negrini blood to be defiant and demanding. I have to admit that I’m proud that he is not easy to manipulate, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a little boy who must learn discipline, manners, and patience.

I make myself presentable by running my hands through my hair, while inspecting my appearance in the mirror. Considering the day I had, I’m not looking that bad, however, I have to admit that dealing with traitors tires me more and more these days. Being in your thirties is supposed to be just a number, but every day I feel heavier from the responsibilities that I have. It doesn’t mean that I’m all work and no play, of course. Women flock to power, and I don’t mind a distraction from time to time. Now that I think about it, I might need a new toy to spend the night with later. I could certainly use some decompression.

I stretch my arms in the air and move my head back and forth. Well, fun will have to wait. The footsteps above me are moving quickly down the hall away from my little boy’s room, as I exit the bathroom. She’s not the first tutor to feel the sting of his words, and she probably won’t be the last.

“I don’t need this,” Maria shouts on her way down the stairs.

She’s frantically putting on her coat as a litany of Spanish words flow freely.

I know enough of the language to see that she’s cursing my boy under her breath. I could snap her neck for talking shit about my family, but knowing Otello, he might deserve it a little. Still, she should hold her tongue.

I place my hand in front of her to stop her forward momentum.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” I say, wearing my stone-cold stare.

“You don’t think so, Sir? He kicked me and then spat in my face. I’ve been a teacher for almost fifteen years, and I’ve never encountered anyone like him. You need to put a muzzle on that kid before he hurts somebody,” she says with her nostrils flaring.

“Watch your mouth when you talk of my son, otherwise you will be searching for your precious little tongue. I won’t have you talking about my child like that. I’m sure we can come up with some kind of compensation.” I insult her then try to convince her to stay in the same breath.

“I know who you are and what you are capable Mr. Negrini, but that kid is the devil. What he needs is an exorcism. I’m leaving, and I never want to hear from you again. Keep your money, because I don’t want anything to do with it or your family,” she says with her hands in her pockets, throwing the cash I gave her last week at my feet.

She stares at my shoes with her eyes unblinking. I’m not sure why she has this reaction until I take a look myself. There’s blood on the tips, and she’s already halfway out the door before I get the chance to talk to her more.

“Everybody has a price. Name yours,” I call out after her.

“I’m sorry, but I have to think about my sanity. No amount of money will make me go back up there,” she says with the door slamming hard enough to make it echo throughout the house.

Oh, he is in trouble! I climb the stairs with my fingers gliding across the polished banister until I reach the top landing. I’m getting tired of having the same argument with my boy. I know exactly what he’s going to say the moment I step through the door.

Otello is sitting on his bed, legs crossed and arms folded, wearing his Scooby-Doo pajamas.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” I address him with a stern expression.

“I want to go to school like other kids,” he says without moving.

His face is a mask of anger and resentment, and I can see our resemblance right there. Stubborn to the end like his father.

However, homeschooling is his only option, even if he is too young to understand why. I’m not just any man. People fear me by my reputation alone, and I have enemies willing to do anything to get to me. I cannot expose my own child to a world who is ready to bring me down by hurting him. I have committed my sins, and I happily live with them. But Otello must be protected.

“That is the fourth teacher you’ve run out of the house, and I’m losing my patience, young man. I will have none of it again, or the punishment will be severe. In the meantime, get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast. Tiffany will look after you while I take care of business,” I say as his eyes light up at the very notion of spending time with Tiffany. She is indeed a gorgeous woman, and it looks like my little man has refined tastes already.

I walk out into the hall, where I crack my knuckles and take a deep breath to calm the storm inside of me. There has to be somebody out there that can reach this kid. I’m just going to have to continue the search, but I don’t hold much hope.

He needs somebody with strict discipline, but most are afraid to speak to him harshly at the risk of displeasing me. It goes with the territory when I have the city in the palm of my hands. They should be afraid of me. They should cower in their boots, waiting for a kind word of praise from my lips.

Unfortunately, my business and reputation hurt my little boy. It kills me to see him acting up. I just can’t afford to take the risk of sending him to a regular school. He needs to be sheltered from the real world. There has to be a teacher out there worth their salt.

I’m damned and determined to find the person who will help my son.

 

Chapter Two

Clelia

I sit in the waiting room, leafing through old magazines, trying to pretend that the last few days have not been trying.

My brother is lashing out, but that’s not surprising. He doesn’t need an excuse to find the answers in a bottle or between the legs of a hooker.

The last time I saw him was at our father’s funeral. He stood there somber and wearing dark sunglasses. I tried to hold his hand, to find some comfort in his warmth, but he refused to accept my loving gesture.

Seeing my father laid to rest made me realize how important it is to find evidence against Constantino Negrini. What my brother said stuck with me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Could it be true? Of course I know of his reputation, and I know now that my father owed him quite a lot. But was he important enough for an all-powerful mafia boss to bother care for him? Or even kill him? There are so many questions to be answered, but considering the Negrini name involvement, any rational person would stay away. Not me. I have to discover who killed my father, and I don’t care if I have to go to hell and back.

It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to need help to pull it off, and there’s only one person I can trust enough to have my back.

Thankfully my good friend Sonia made me an appointment to see her husband, Roberto. He’s a lawyer involved in the Negrini business and my key to unlock the truth. If anyone can help me with this it’s him.

The secretary motions for me from her desk while wearing hidden wireless earphones to answer the calls. She points down the hall, but I don’t need any further directions.

I hear Roberto having an argument over the phone before I enter. Clearly, he hasn’t noticed that I’m standing right there.

“The accounts will be shut down immediately. We have already covered this scenario, and they won’t find anything to pin insider trading on you. There’s no paper trail leading back to your doorstep, I told you a million times. Come in on Monday, and we’ll make arrangements for you and your family,” he says.

Roberto is standing at the window with his hands behind his back, seemingly talking into thin air.

He turns and places his hands on the mahogany desk. It’s old with coffee stains and fading polish, but it looks expensive. He looks powerful in his custom-tailored dark suit, but I know it’s an illusion to make people think he has all the answers. Actually, Roberto is a very caring father and a really loving husband. He could be considered a very good guy, if you take out the working with high-end criminals bit. I have to admit that sometimes, I envy the love and tenderness he shares with Sonia. I wish I had someone to care for me sometimes.

“Clelia, welcome! Please, accept my heartfelt condolences for what happened to Jonathan,” he says with his hand on his heart, and his statement pulls me out of my thoughts. My longing for a man can wait. I have a criminal to find first.

“That’s very kind of you Roberto, thank you. It’s really been a long couple of days,” I reply.

I’m referring to the funeral but also the reading of the will, which only served as one more blow to Lucas. The candy company and its holdings were trusted in me, while he was given a small share.

We have management in place to take care of the day-to-day dealings, but I’m eventually going to have to take my rightful place at the head of the table. There’s going to be some restructuring. The suggestions I mentioned to my father are going to be implemented sooner than later, and the dead weight will be cut out and excised like cancer until we’re profitable again. I only wish Lucas was by my side to help me. Instead, he despises me more by the day.

“I hope you know he did love you with all of his heart. He might not have been able to express it to you properly, but he did confide in me,” he says.

“Thank you so much Roberto. It means the world to me to hear that,” I answer. I really wish that I could hear my father telling me this. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in his lap, begging him to read me a fairytale. By the end of the story, I would usually fall asleep in his arms, and then he used to kiss my forehead and whisper “I love you.”

The memory that creeps in makes fidget in my chair, allowing the silence to become almost deafening. I would give anything to relive this moment. To have back the loving parent I once knew, but the truth is that I lost him even before he was killed. His own demons were too strong to battle. However, I always hoped that one day he would be the man I used to know.

“Um, Sonia mentioned this morning that you needed my help. I’m a little curious to know what that means. Are you thinking about changing lawyers?” Roberto adds with a lick of his lips. His statement pulls me from my thoughts and I remember why I am here.

“I was wondering what information you have about Constantino Negrini. I don’t want to know what I can read in the papers. You’ve been dealing with the family for quite some time by your own admission.” I address the elephant in the room.

“Constantino Negrini? You know that I can’t talk about a client Clelia, but please don’t tell me this has something to do with Lucas’s wild accusations. You shouldn’t believe everything he says,” he replies.

“Just tell me what you know about the family. It doesn’t matter how small or insignificant the detail is. I’m not asking you to share pertinent information about your business dealings with him. What is your impression of Constantino Negrini, as a person?” I inquire.

“Clelia cut the bullshit. I’m a lawyer; I’ve always been able to read between the lines. You’re hiding something from me. How long have we been friends? You’re our son’s godmother. Just tell me what you really want,” he urges.

On one hand I’m relieved. I really don’t want to beat around the bush, but on the other hand, I know that Roberto will think that I’m completely crazy.

“I’m talking about confronting him. Discovering what really happened. If he won’t come out and admit that he’s done wrong, I’m going to make him do it,” I say almost breathless.

Robert’s eyes widen. “You’re thinking of going to Leonessa and confronting him? You’ll be thrown out if you do that. You won’t be able to get anywhere near him if you go and cause a fuss at his business.”

“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind… I need a letter of recommendation from you to personally vouch for me, so that I can get close to Negrini. He is looking for a private tutor for his son. If he hires me, I will be close enough to discover if he had something to do with my father’s death. I can’t do this without you, Roberto.”

“What? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds and what you’re risking when you’re found out? Because there is no way that Constantino won’t dig about you. Otello is the most precious thing in his life. Do you really think that he won’t do a thorough background check on you?” Robert huffs and puffs like I told him that I murdered his own mother.

“I know, and that’s why I came to you. You are the only one I know with access to people who can help me cover my tracks even for a little. I have to try something, Roberto.” I press a hand to my belly, my stomach churning. “Something is not right about this, and I want answers. The only way I’m going to get them is to get close to the man Lucas says is responsible. Please…”

“Clelia,” he exhales in frustration. “Jonathan meant the world to me and you know it. He treated me like a son, better than a son, and my obligation towards him is to protect you, not throw you into the wolves. Even if he is not responsible for your father’s death, Constantino Negrini is a very dangerous man, with many skeletons in his closet. You’re messing with someone you can’t handle,” Roberto adds.

“If you loved my father so much, then you wouldn’t want his death to go unpunished by covering up the one responsible,” I say ignoring his warnings or the fact that he is throwing daggers at me with his eyes. I know that I’m being cruel to him, but he is the only one who can help me.

Roberto sighs deeply and tampers with his tie. He looks more dishevelled than his usual polished self. His dark hair is always perfectly combed and his suit pressed to perfection.

“I still think this is a terrible idea, but I will give you the letter of recommendation. I will also contact my people to create online presence and legal papers. That will buy you some time,” once I hear the words, a huge weight is lifted off of my shoulders.

“But listen to me, Clelia. I said this before and I will say it again. Constantino is not a man to double cross. Some say he’s responsible for killing his wife and making her disappear. I don’t believe in water cooler gossip, but he is definitely a very dangerous man. You really need to be extra careful. Don’t provoke him openly, don’t get on his bad side. Try to be invisible,” Roberto says.

His suit jacket lies awkwardly over his chair, and his cuffs are unbuttoned on the white starched shirt. Those green eyes are hiding many secrets of powerful men. I’m happy that I have him on my side.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? I don’t want to go in there empty-handed. The more I know about Constantino and his family, the better,” I press him for more details, and it’s stretching the confines of our friendship.

“I’ve heard his son is wild and unpredictable. You’re going to have to be ready for anything. There’s a reason why he’s still looking for a teacher with the money he offers. Everybody he hires doesn’t last more than a few days, sometimes a few hours,” he replies.

He’s already handwriting the recommendation letter. It’s more personal that way instead of being generated on the computer. Roberto didn’t reveal much of anything, but I locked up every bit of information he gave me.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. He’s naturally suspicious about everybody. You can’t be too good to be true. He respects hard work and determination more than anything. He comes from humble beginnings and is still firmly rooted in the past. It’s the reason why I personally don’t think the rumors about his wife are true. You have my number on speed dial. Don’t hesitate to call me day or night,” Roberto advises.

He sits on the edge of his desk, playing with his class ring emblazoned with gold flecks. It’s from his days being the big man on campus. He was an athlete, but those days are far behind him.

“Thank you for the letter. I really appreciate your friendship during this time,” I say, my eyes conveying a sadness that penetrates deeply.

The letter is in my hand when I walk out of the office. It’s what I need to break into Constantino’s inner sanctum. I’m not going to give up, and this is the first step in finding out the truth.

That piece of paper is going to get me in the door. It’s only one part of my plan, but it’s a crucial piece of the puzzle. I quickly send a message to my brother while I’m walking to the elevator. My 4-inch heels click on the floors.

I type furiously. “I need some time away. What happened to our father has really hit me hard. I’m going to be out of touch. Don’t try to contact me. I’m turning off my phone and going someplace off-grid to figure out what to do next. Be well and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I press send.

That will keep him from sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I can’t afford for him to mess up what I’m trying to do. He’s my brother, but he can’t keep a secret to save his life. Recreational drugs and liquor can lead to loose lips at the most inopportune time.

You never know who might be listening, and for this, I need to work alone. I will find out the truth or die trying.

 

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Chapter One

Midnight

No matter how many functions I attend, I don’t think that I’ll ever get used to them.

Music pours out of the building in front of us, no doubt half an orchestra inside. Men in white gloves and tuxedos are unloading guests from their chauffeured cars one at a time, escorting them up to the plush, carpeted, runner that leads into the well-lit hall.

Each guest exiting their car seems more elegant than the last, their faces picture perfect as the women are escorted by their husbands and dates into the gala. It was a charity event, I had been informed earlier when I had returned to my room to find a couture gown waiting on my bed for me.

Presently, I wrap up that one-of-a-kind, custom gown in my fists as my own chauffeured car slowly pulls around the bend for our turn.

A hand gloved in white taps the top of mine softly. “Don’t worry honey, Caspian is going to meet us inside, and I’m going to be right here.”

Valeria is easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Effortless, ethereal. Her caramel skin seems to glow from within. She has a long, slender neck and delicate features. She easily could have been a model if she wanted to.

Yet, somehow, my brother convinced her that marrying him was a better choice. Even more astounding, the pair of them managed to produce a child that surpasses them, possessing the best qualities of each. Granted, he is still young, but he’s going to grow up to be quite an impressive young man. Sometimes I like to tease Valeria that she had motherhood experience already handling me with so much patience over the years.

I place my other hand on top of hers and squeeze her hand, a comforting gesture as she smiles at me.

“It’s just been…such a long time,” I admit softly. The anxiety coiling in my stomach is only half because such lavish, extravagant events like this one are going to be filled with people and half because being in public drags attention to the slow way I walk.

“I know honey, but you’ve worked so hard to get to this point…you deserve this recognition.”

Our car rolls to a stop just beside the hand painted sign welcoming us to the annual St. Angela’s charity gala. Saint Angela’s is the local children’s hospital that I volunteer more of my time at than I spend at home. If we make enough money tonight, we will be able to open an outreach clinic in an underprivileged section of our town. It is a cause that I am wildly passionate about. Everybody deserves access to medications and quality medical care. I organized most of this event with the hopes that I wouldn’t have to attend it myself.

I owe my life and mobility to the pediatric ward in St. Angela’s. If it hadn’t been for the lovely doctors there, I might never have regained the ability to walk all those years ago. I owe so much to them that when the kind doctors and nursing staff asked if I would be there to help celebrate and fundraise with them…of course I said yes.

I wasn’t born into money. The life that I was born into was rather plain. I grew up in a small, three-bedroom flat where everybody had to share the same bathroom. Growing up, I didn’t have new clothes or shoes that weren’t secondhand. More often than not, it wasn’t even because we couldn’t afford those things, but because my father would never spend money on anything other than the roof over our head, and his drinking problem.

My older brother, Caspian, was the one to provide for me. He would bring home takeout food or a new pair of shoes. Always with the same easy smile and a finger pressed to his lips, he would say, “Shh, Midnight, don’t tell.” He would wink, then pretend that nothing had ever happened. I used to try to ask him how he got the money to pay for things. Cas would always just wink at me, that same charming smile on his handsome face.

How exactly Caspian had changed our entire lives shortly after my thirteenth birthday, well, I hadn’t asked questions about that either. Never once did he answer my questions, so over time I learned to stop asking.

Since then, I have seen my brother do countless immoral things. I have witnessed more than perhaps I should. Yet, for every questionable thing he does…he does three that are better.

I might turn a blind eye when I shouldn’t…even after he got me shot. Being the younger sister to the city’s strongest Mafia boss is bound to come with risks, I suppose.

“Ready honey?”

A man pulls open the door and holds out a hand to lead us onto the carpet. With difficulty, I slide out of the car, Valeria’s hand on the small of my back in a gesture that makes her look like a supportive sister-in-law, when really, she is checking to ensure I am steady on my feet.

I always try to hide it, but my limp is one of my biggest insecurities. I can walk without a cane now, but it does take me longer. Heels make things even more impossible. But at five-foot-six, I don’t look too out of place next to the woman beside me without them. A part of me hopes that she will draw all of the attention to herself. I’m not unattractive, and I’m not insecure about that fact. Valeria is simply an otherworldly sort of beauty.

When I pitched the idea for this gala to Caspian, he enthusiastically agreed, telling me to spare no expense. I didn’t, of course; he wouldn’t have let me anyway. Caspian has always wildly supported any cause I want to pursue, any hobby that I want to learn, and I love him dearly for it.

Music washes over us as we enter the massive room. I find Caspian quickly. He is equal parts imposing and dashing. At six-foot-three, he’s always drawn attention. He wears his tailored tuxedo well. He’s the perfect partner to Valeria. Where she’s exotic, he’s classically handsome. Caspian’s always drawn women’s eyes with his strong jawline, styled brown hair and bright, piercing blue eyes.

He doesn’t smile until he sees us. My brother scoops Valeria up the moment she is in reach. I smile seeing them together, the sweet way they interact. Valeria is beautiful alone, but like this, filled with joy, takes her to another level. A gentleman with a polished silver tray offers glasses of champagne, and I manage a whole sip before Caspian moves toward me. I note the two large men standing a respectful distance behind him.

My eyes narrow, “I thought you agreed, no bodyguards tonight?”

Caspian’s arm encircles me and he presses a kiss into my forehead, lifting the glass from me as he does. “Did we? I don’t remember that.”

Well isn’t that just overly convenient for him? At least I managed one whole sip of my champagne. “You can give that back now, please.”

If Caspian hears me, he doesn’t acknowledge it. I think he ignores me on purpose.

“The pair of you look so lovely I might die. Therefore, I really do need some protection, don’t you think?” Caspian continues. Valeria takes his other arm as we head further into the room. It looks exactly as beautiful as I imagined it. It was one thing seeing it during setup, but filled with people, it is breathtaking. “Besides, these two gentlemen are here for you lovely ladies.”

He cannot be serious.

“What would we like to do first?” Caspian continues, as if he hasn’t just totally gone back on our peaceful little agreement. “It is my understanding that after the first orchestral set they intend on honoring you for being kind enough to put this together.”

I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. He expects me to bristle, and internally I do. I would rather not be up on that stage in front of everybody. I would rather not fumble through an awkward speech that I didn’t prepare…but I also don’t want to disappoint those people around me either.

Seeing my apprehension, Caspian’s expression softens. I think Valeria and myself might be the only two beings in the entire world able to consider my brother soft in any way. I’m aware of the reputation that Caspian has. He didn’t earn the nickname Diavolo for no reason. He is going out of his way to make sure that I feel comfortable here, he is going that extra mile to ensure that I enjoy tonight. I never could say no to him. He asks for so little as it is.

Big bad mafioso here, fussing over his baby sister to make sure that her feelings aren’t hurt.

“I think it will be good for you to get out there, you need to meet people. You spend so much time at St. Angela’s, and you refuse to take any credit for it. How are you supposed to make a name for yourself, if you are always in the background? I insist that you get up there tonight, and you own every scrap of gratitude that you deserve.” Caspian encourages, “You are a Knight, and I have worked very hard to ensure just how much weight that name carries.”

“I’m supposed to be just finishing college and getting a respectable job, Caspian,” I tease. “Just because you were a deviant at twenty-four, doesn’t mean that I have to be.”

Still, I can’t deny that he has a point.

“Maybe you can find a handsome dance partner then?” Caspian suggests.

I used to love to dance. He’s attempting to bond with me, to make a suggestion that would help me enjoy my night a little more. I can still remember all the steps to the classical dances that are playing by heart. I can still perform the twists and dips in my mind…but my body…

“Cas!” Valeria hisses from Caspian’s other side, chastising him for suggesting something that I can’t possibly do. Not since the injury. Something passes between the couple, and I squeeze Caspian’s arm before letting him go.

“I think I will go find a handsome dance partner!” I force a smile. Caspian works so hard. They deserve to have a break, a night out, Caspian away from his duties and Valeria away from her motherly responsibilities. Caspian will have a better time himself if he’s not fussing over me every moment.

I know he’s not going to let me out of his sight unless I look like I’m having the time of my life. He’s sending one of those large men in the black suits to follow behind me at a distance. They are my least favorite part of Caspian’s lifestyle. He didn’t agree with me when I told him that just because he chose a life of crime didn’t mean that I had to.

Caspian was always better with people. He has a way with words, a natural charisma paired with intensity that leads to either people trusting him very quickly, or fearing for their lives. Depending on which way he chooses to take things.

I skirt the edge of the ballroom dance floor carefully so as not to slip. I have no intention of butchering my beloved memories of the years I spent training to dance by fumbling around the dance floor with my leg that refuses to work properly. I absolutely don’t want to have that many pairs of eyes on me when I embarrass myself. The man behind me, carefully watching my every movement, is intended to put me at ease as much as my brother. He knows large groups of people are difficult for me since the accident. He always says to simply trust him, that he would never let anything bad happen to me…he would never allow anything to happen. But he can’t stop my anxiety from attacking me. It is something he can’t help no matter how he tries.

I camp at the side of a table covered in hors d’oeuvres as the music blends one song into the other. People who recognize me from the hospital come to greet me or wish me congratulations. I watch the board with our donation counter and goal on it surely and steadily climbing toward the success markers, and I will be content to do so all night.

Standing here, I am alright.

I can do this.

Maybe it would be nice to be at events like this again…I have avoided them for so long. Even if my heart ached with each waltz turn I witnessed. I can remember when I used to live for these things. I would dance the night away, fulfilling so many of my childhood princess fantasies.

“Come on.” The voice comes from beside me, and I turn to see Caspian with a disapproving look on his face. “You’re not a wallflower, Midnight. You cannot stand here all night. The floor isn’t going to bite you. I will help you.”

I shake my head, not even considering the offer. I smile nervously and then make a show of looking for something to drink.

“If not me, then who? You could have any man in this entire room.”

Perhaps. If not, he would make sure that they danced with me anyway.

“What if Leo dances with you?” Caspian offers casually, genuine concern knitting his brow.

Heat flushes my system at the mention of Leo, and I shake my head. The last thing that I need is his hands on me when I need to be concentrating. “No, Cas I’m fine. I’m just enjoying my success. Can’t I just do that?”

“You know, I worry about you. You would enjoy this more if you were interacting with the people who are here because you made this happen.”

Will they have been disappointed in me if I don’t go? Have they started to whisper about it behind my back? I don’t think they have…but now it feels like they are all glancing at me, whispering over their shoulders. They are going to wonder why I’m not walking around, dancing, aren’t they? My vision starts to blur.

I shake my head. No, this is silly. They aren’t talking about me. Nothing is wrong, I just need Caspian to stop pushing me. He means well…

“I need some air, okay?” the words leave my mouth before I think about it. I really need space, for him to stop pushing me, but I can’t say that. “Just some fresh air, on the terrace okay?”

Caspian studies me for a long moment before surrendering, nodding his head once.

“I’ll send Leo out with you,” Caspian offers, his hand already motioning to his best friend across the hall. Caspian gestures for him to come closer and Leo nods. Leo, who looks good in a suit. Really good in a suit.

The idea of us alone on the terrace, such a romantic setting, makes me blush. Normally, I would take any excuse I could to spend some alone time with the handsome man my brother is offering so easily to me. But I learned a long time ago that Leo doesn’t have anywhere near the same interest in me as I have in him.

Didn’t mean I can’t look. Look at Leo in all of his glory, the easy way he walks across the room. Look at how people start to move out of his way as he grows near to them.

Leo is the sort of man that commands attention. Built light as a fighter, his strong jawline and lack of smile tend to draw women to him like bees to honey. My heart flutters as his green eyes lock me in place. It is like the rest of the room fades away as my heart races. His gaze drops to drink in the sight of me in a dress, like he has never seen me before. Perhaps he didn’t think that I could clean up as well as I have. The corner of his lip upturns, the echo of a smirk, and I’m almost melting into the floor with how flustered such a simple thing makes me feel.

I have it bad.

I know I have it bad.

Leo is my brother’s best friend, his right-hand man, and just about the worst man that I could find myself attracted to, but here I am.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Cas, I’ll just be a moment,” I rush to say, lifting onto my tip-toes to press a kiss into Caspian’s cheek. A merciful, rare, moment of grace fills me as I turn and leave the ballroom before Leo can finish his journey toward us.

The cool night air feels better than I imagined. I can feel the soft breeze pushing away any remnants of my anxiety.

No more people, no more noises or polite small talk. Just me, the breeze, and the light floral scent carried on the air as it swirls around me.

My shoulders slowly start to relax. I’m not bothered at all by the sound of steps approaching me, I am expecting Leo, after all. My eyes drift closed as I speak, “You don’t actually have to chaperone me, you know-”

He never can tell my brother no. I guess he feels like he owes Caspian for saving him from the streets all of those years ago. I start to turn, wanting to chastise Leo for being so gullible to his face, but I never get the chance. A hand wraps around my waist from behind and another comes to my face and a cloth soaked in something clamps down over my mouth and nose.

I inhale to scream, suddenly forgetting any self-defense I have ever learned.

I shouldn’t breathe in. The reflex is my undoing. Fuck Caspian’s going to kill me. That last thought I have before darkness consumes me, and I collapse backward into the waiting arms of my attacker.

 

Chapter Two

Leo

Contrary to popular belief, chloroform does in fact have a smell.

The reports tend to vary from person to person, ranging from a sickly sweet, almost bourbon smell, to citrus cleaning products on steroids. I wonder which one little Midnight smelled.

I don’t imagine she will be in much of a mood to answer my questions whenever she wakes up. I doubt that she’s going to want anything from me at all.

If I could have taken somebody else, I would have. The sins of her brother weren’t something that Midnight should have to answer for. I never wanted to hurt her…but she is the only one that will work. For some time, I thought that his wife might be motivation enough. I thought that perhaps his son would be motivation enough.

I have to hit Caspian where it hurts. He could always remarry, he could always have another child. Midnight, she’s irreplaceable. I have waited for too long, I have worked too hard to get to this point, and I will not give up now. I won’t.

Sleeping like this, she looks so peaceful. My weight indents the side of the thin mattress on the small bed that she’s strapped to. Her eyes roll softly under the closed lids. She will be awake soon. I’m going to watch her whole world shatter, everything that she’s come to know over the time of her brother’s new life. It pains me to know how badly this is going to hurt her. My sweet, lovely, Midnight.

She’s never known how beautiful she is. I can’t lie and say that it was her kindness that first caught my eye. Her long chestnut hair falls in pretty waves over the pillow. Her bright, brilliant blue eyes are hidden from my view in her chemically induced sleep. Her arms pulled above her head like this, trussed to the bedframe, isn’t helping me focus any. I have often fantasized what she might feel like with her arms, and other parts, around me.

Caspian always said that she was a great dancer before the accident. Her frame hasn’t suffered any for its loss. Perhaps she can’t perform the moves anymore, but she still has the body: lightly muscled in her legs, lean dexterity in her thighs. Even with her limp, she moves with more grace than half my men ever have.

Her dress is slid up over her knees, and I can finally allow myself to look at her with intention. It’s always been so important to keep my distance from her. I couldn’t allow my attraction to her to get in the way of what I needed to do.

Don’t get distracted. Over the years, it has become a mantra that I repeat inside of my head over and over again.

It was hardest on the days that I thought she might be looking at me too.

Midnight stirs on the bed, and my time with her is almost over. The illusion of who she thought I was is about to shatter. These last few moments of the drug shaking from her system are sweet. I drink in the way her brow furrows, her sweet groggy sounds of a body rousing as she twists. Is she dreaming? Her back arches her toward me as if she is shaking off the vestiges of a memory she doesn’t want to leave.

Midnight’s pretty blue eyes start to flutter open, registering my face so near her own with a sleepy half smile. Is she dreaming about me? If I could allow her to stay in the dream I would. Her full lips part, and the lipstick smeared over the edges makes her even more attractive. I have to admit this isn’t the reaction I presumed she would have to my being in bed with her, but I’m not protesting either.

She tries to lift her arms. The metal chain of the restraints click against the headboard and realization dawns on her. Midnight looks up to her bound wrists and starts to struggle. Confusion crosses her expression first, and then panic as she pulls as if it would free her.

“They’re quite secure, I assure you.”

“Leo?” Midnight stares at me accusingly, surprised that I’m really there, her chest heaving. Fuck if that isn’t a pretty picture.  “What the hell are you doing?”

I don’t answer right away. “I know that you’re going to have a lot of questions. This is going to be a very difficult time for you, Midnight.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? Let me go right this instant.”

I shake my head, my hand lifting to the side of her face and running my knuckles down her soft skin. “Sorry, I can’t do that.”

“Uh, yes you can!” Midnight pulls on the restraints again as if she can just get me to come to my senses. I wonder if she’s ever been tied down before? In my fantasies…I must have done it a dozen times. My knuckles run down the curve of her neck, my gaze following the invisible trail that I take down her skin. So fucking beautiful. My knuckle runs down the plunging neckline of her ballgown. The fitted bodice curves around her breast so prettily.

“You look….so stunning tonight. I’m sorry to have to ruin your dress.” I haven’t yet, but I certainly want to. My finger crooks inside of the neckline, running the line of the fabric. “I never intended to harm you, if you have any headache, rest assured it will be resolved soon.”

“I-I don’t understand, what are you-” her breath hitches as my hand slides inside of the bodice of the gown to fit the breast into my hand. It almost feels as if she arches up into the touch, even if she pulls away the next moment.

“Be still now,” I warn, and she thrashes again, the skirt of her dress riding up her thighs as she does. “If you’re a very, very good girl…then no harm will come to you.”

Midnight’s eyes are a blue fire as they turn back to me, even with the pink flush tinting her cheeks. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but Caspian is going to kill you for this.” Her teeth bare as she speaks.

She has always had such blind faith in her brother. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shake my head. “Cas cannot save you now, and your brother deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

“Caspian saved you! We saved you! I don’t know…what,” her words die as my fingers pinch her nipple between them firmly.

“You don’t know Caspian as well as you think you do, Midnight.” She yelps in surprise as I release her nipple, and pinch the peak between my fingers, rolling firmly. “As you’re at my complete mercy…I think you should consider your words.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and I don’t miss the way her bare thighs clamp together. Did she like that? Releasing her trapped skin, my fingers spread across her breast, kneading the flesh into my palm possessively. “I know that learning the true nature of who he is will hurt you. I’m truly sorry for that. Caspian will be made to pay for the things he’s done.”

More than once, since I came to live with the Knight family, I have been tempted to abandon my cause. Seeing the way that they act with one another, it is clear Caspian values his little family in the way that I always loved my family. We had the commonality that we would both do anything to protect the ones that we loved, and to better our stations in life. Neither of us had been born into privilege. In a lot of ways, Caspian had been born worse off than myself.

It doesn’t excuse the actions that he took, the things that he had done.

It wasn’t easy to win Caspian’s trust. It was a long, slow road to gain the position at his side that I stand. Caspian’s right-hand man, his best friend and trusted companion. He has invited me into his very home, we have broken bread together.

He thought that I was nothing more than a street rat that needed a second chance at life. I played my part well. I did everything that he ever asked of me.

I hate that Midnight was the only thing that I can use against him. If I could have used Valeria I would have. But Midnight is the key to everything. She is the one that will topple him, the one he can’t live without.

Though, I can’t exactly say that I am sorry to have Midnight here, bound in the basement of my private mansion. “Keep in mind, Midnight, we are at a secured location that Caspian has no knowledge of, he’s not even going to know where to look. So,” I pause, my eyes lingering on her lips as she frowns at me. “You can yell, and scream to your heart’s content if that’s what pleases you. Or, you can save yourself the trouble and do as I say. I’m going to give you the night to think about it. I want you to think long, and hard about your choice. I can leave you bound here, alone in the dank of my basement…”

I pause, letting the truth of my words settle in. Never in my life would I have thought that we would be here, with her in such a position. Every time we have been alone until now the conversations were brief. Like the charged tension between us was too much for her to handle. She has hardly ever been able to look at me without blushing. I would recognize that tell-tale flush in her cheeks anywhere. Still, I have to press the issue a little further.

“I have a large staff, and I cannot keep an eye on all of them, you see. I cannot control if they wander in here while you’re all alone.” Fear pinpricks her pupils. I can see her pulse racing in the pulsating of a vein in her pretty neck…but her thighs slide over one another for friction. I bet she thinks I don’t see that. “I would much rather put you in one of my many bedrooms, wouldn’t that be nice?”

She deliberates, but says nothing. “I’ll tell you what, if you behave, follow my very simple rules, I promise to answer all of your questions in time.”

I study her face, even when she’s biting her tongue to keep from verbally lashing out at me, I want to taste her. She’s always so sweet, so generous and kind, even this slight view of her temper has me itching to know what else is in there, what else has she hidden from me.

“Unlike your dear brother, I always keep my word.” Would she fight me if I kissed her? If I took her lower lip between my teeth?

Midnight’s eyes move to the ceiling, as if somehow, she can see where she is or acquire super powers and see the house. She regards me slowly, and she knows I’m not teasing any longer. My fingers close on her nipple again, pulling softly. “Answer me, Midnight.”

“Caspian will come for me. He will find me, and he is going to eat you alive,” she hisses, not even attempting to pull away from my touch.

“I dearly hope so.” My eyes alight with fire. Where had this temper been these last few years I’ve spent sleeping in the same home as her? If this is a taste of what was to come, I can only guess how interesting our time together is going to be.

Midnight has no reason to doubt her brother, no reason to assume anything other than him moving heaven and earth for her. “He’s certainly going to try.”

Midnight understands the situation now. She stares at me, as if she’s never seen me before, as if I am some sort of monster. Something foul under her shoe that she would never want to see again…but her breath is coming in steady puffs and her cheeks are flushed. Her hands pull at the binding around her wrists again.

“Who are you?”

I smile softly, keeping careful control of my own breathing. “Not who you think.” I pull my hand from her dress, and move across the room to the door. I wink in her direction as she fumes, her thighs still rubbing together as she attempts to lift her body to look at me. I catch the sheen on the skin near her most intimate places before I flick the light off, shutting and locking the door to the sounds of her frustration.

---

If you liked the preview, you can get the whole book here

Chapter One

Caspian

Her screams haunt me.

I continually play back the scene over and over again in my head. Family is the most important aspect of my life. It drives me to extreme lengths to protect them at any cost.

To see the anguish on my sister’s face and the pain in her eyes felt like a knife tearing through my heart.

Midnight never blamed me, but those images of her lying in the street covered in blood were something I’m never going to forget. She’s my sister, and I made the big mistake of underestimating our adversaries. Being the head of the Knight family is a huge responsibility.

I came from nothing, but that’s never stopped me from succeeding.

To say that I was on the warpath would’ve been a vast understatement. Turning over every rock to find the person that hired the hitman to kill me was to no avail. There were many suspects but no concrete proof to act upon.

Las Vegas is a mecca of greed and influence. The landscape is intimidating to most, but this is my playground.

The city lights bring opportunities that are only going to knock once. The heavy weight of the burden is on my shoulders.

Those closest to me tried in vain to convince me the person responsible for shooting my sister had been brought to justice.

It’s too bad that I’m not convinced. Something is nagging at the back of my mind. It’s telling me to keep my friends close and my enemies even closer.

“Caspian, I would never steal from you,” A squeaky voice pleads.

I glance away from the window, temporarily blinded by a betrayal of trust and confidence.

It’s sickening to think that somebody would take the risk of putting their hand in the cookie jar. Treating my employees fairly with great wages should have stopped this from happening, but there’s always going to be one rotten apple in the bunch

Thomas was skimming off the top.

It’s not much, but an example has to be made quickly to stanch any unrest among my people. It’s the principal and not the amount of money he’s squirreled away for a rainy day.

He’s sitting there in the chair with his mouth bleeding. A couple of his teeth are missing.

They’re on the floor at his feet.

Being on top of the mountain gives me a bird’s eye view of the little people going about their day. I’m forty stories safely behind reinforced glass in the penthouse suite.

Leo Sloan is my best friend, and people have often commented that we’re similar in looks with our long blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s also my training partner.

Giving him a place by my side was a stroke of genius. Finding him down on his luck committing petty crimes on the street gave me a chance to teach him about the business.

He’s like a sponge constantly absorbing my knowledge and sing it to protect me from harm.

He stands with his blonde hair combed straight back in an air of intimidation. His arms are crossed, and he’s not blinking while brandishing a pair of brass knuckles covered in blood. He’s not above getting his hands dirty for me.

I pull on the collar of my starched white shirt. It’s custom-made by an Italian Mastercraftsman. There are many in my collection. Dressing for success is a key component in making people believe my power is something to be feared.

“Trust is a two-way street. Do you think this makes me happy? I came here to visit one of my more profitable casinos. I built this from the ground up, and you were there every step of the way. It pains me to think you could even consider disrespecting me. How do you think that makes me feel. I’m entertaining a guest. You can see that he’s not very comfortable by this unfortunate incident,” I refer to Peter Lewis sat in one corner.

Peter is there on purpose to witness this exchange.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. This is a mistake,” Thomas stammers with little bits of spittle flying from his mouth.

I crack my knuckles right in front of his face. “The only mistake was believing you have my best interest at heart. I’m afraid this is where we are going to have to part ways. I wish you luck in your future endeavors.”

A slight nod gives Leo his marching orders.

Thomas is a sniveling coward and barely worth mentioning in the same breath as some of my other more trusted colleagues. He’ll live knowing the Damocles sword is hanging over his head.

The moniker of Diavolo is one that I deserve. It will be torture for him to be on the lookout, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Leo doesn’t say a word, but he’s soon escorting Thomas from the room.

Thomas stumbles a couple of times, but Leo is there to hold him up even though he’s falling apart.

The click of the door closing makes Peter flinch.

It’s merely a tactic to keep him unbalanced.

I walk back to my desk with its clear glass top, waiting for the reason for this visit. He owes me a lot of money. It’s something that puts him in my debt. That kind of leverage is priceless. I know exactly what I want.

His daughter Valeria is the prize.

Seeing her briefly at her brother’s funeral gave me a chance to look into those hypnotizing hazel eyes. She was in mourning, but her attempt to smile stopped my heart for a second.

It’s fortuitous to have Peter exactly where I want him despite his efforts to pay back the loan.

The awkward silence is deafening.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Leo does go a little overboard, but he means well. That brings us to the reason for your visit. Your payment was due three months ago. Being magnanimous has never been my strong suit. We need to discuss how we proceed from here,” I say dramatically while rolling up my sleeves.

It doesn’t look like he’s slept in days with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He’s usually a consummate professional when it comes to business matters.

Losing his son broke something inside of him.

Imagining that kind of pain makes me empathize with his plight, but there’s no way that I can show weakness.

“I’m going to need more time,” Peter says.

“I don’t like being taken advantage of. I hope you remember it was you that came to me and not the other way around. I know what that kind of loss does to somebody. I’m not in the habit of showing pity.” I swallow hard at the recollection of my father being lowered into the ground.

“There are no excuses. The terms were reasonable,” Peter says.

Peter moves his weathered shaking hand through his silver mane of hair

It isn’t the first time I’ve seen this kind of body language when negotiating in good faith. This is a game. I’m very good at reading between the lines. He’s in a pickle and obviously looking for somebody to bail him out. He doesn’t know about my machinations behind the scenes.

Every debt he’s incurred is now under my umbrella. It’s time to show him a way out of his predicament, but he isn’t going to like it. This is the part of the negotiation I live for. It puts me in the driver’s seat.

I extend my hands. “I’m not a monster contrary to popular opinion. We all have moments we would like back. You’ve made your fair share of blunders in business lately, but maybe I can help with that. We can dispense with the ugliness of the loan if you agree to give me your daughter’s hand in marriage. Joining forces will make our enemies think twice,” I propose.

He makes a deep sigh. “I can’t do that. My daughter is fiercely independent and doesn’t want anything to do with the family business.”

“She’s in the business by proxy. There’s nothing she can do about that. What happens next to your family and the business you hold so dearly is in your hands. I respect everything you’ve built. This is business. I can’t show favors. What kind of message does that send?” I ask.

“You don’t know what you are asking of me. She would never forgive me.”

“She’s not here. This is for the future of your family. The decision is yours. Can you really afford to have principles?”

“Please, there’s got to be a way to do this without her,” He pleads.

I try not to sound too smug. “I’m not sure you understand your position. Your risks cost you everything. I’m the only one in a position to help dig you out of this mess. I’m a little offended you’re fighting me on this. We both know I’m a man people rarely refuse…and for a good reason.”

“I can’t just turn a blind eye and give you my daughter. I would rather die.”

“Nobody said anything about killing you. Your objection is leaving me with very few choices. You have to see it from my point of view. I allow you to leave here without paying your debt, and people will get the wrong idea. They’ll believe that I’m weak. I can’t have that,” I explain.

He stares right through me.

“I’m sorry….I don’t know what to do,” he says.

“I shouldn’t do this, but I admire you more than you know. This is highly unorthodox, but there might be a way. Are you a gambling man?” I ask from behind with my hands on his shoulders.

“What…do you have in mind? He stammers.

“We play one game of roulette…double or nothing. I win, and your daughter walks happily down the aisle with me. You win, and your debt is cleared. We’ll never have to see each other again,” I say.

“I really don’t have any other choice. Let’s do this before I change my mind,’ he sighs.

I walk with him to the glass elevator and whistle an old song my mother sang to me when I was a child. I catch my reflection on the mirrored surface. In the right light, my blazing blue eyes can appear to turn red.

Being over 6 feet tall can be imposing to some. It isn’t every day the boss shows up breathing fire and taking names. I’m always looking for ways to cut costs using methods I’ve read about in Fortune 500.

The roulette wheel is occupied, but my presence soon has the patrons looking for other ways to gamble away their time.

I choose red, and Peter chooses black.

The little silver ball blinks into focus in the dealer’s hand. He drops it, and it bounces several times, moving around in a circular motion. My eyes narrow in concentration.

Peter gulps, and I smile when it finally comes to a stop.

She’s going to be my bride and doesn’t even know it. It would be nice to break the news to her in person, but I know it’s going to be better coming from her father.

 

Valeria

I can’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but he’s doing it with a straight face.

We never did see eye to eye, but that doesn’t give him the right to use me as a bargaining chip.

It’s appalling, and I’m speechless, unable to voice my contempt for his actions.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me. My breath is short, and my palms are sweating.

I sit down with a sense of defeat. My dark hair curling and matted to my forehead

“Valeria, I don’t know what you want me to say. Think about what this means for the future of our family. The debt I owe will be lifted. Joining our two families will make us stronger than ever. This is the only way to make things right,” my father says.

“How many times have I told you this business isn’t for me? What makes you think that I’m going to go along with this harebrained scheme? I love you with all of my heart, but you are asking too much,” I shout.

“I know it’s not right to put you in this position.”

“I have a career to think about. I’m the head editor of The Las Vegas Sun. I can’t just abandon everything I’ve built. You’ve seen how hard I worked to keep people from thinking I’m going to follow in your footsteps. It’s taken a lot of time to make them see that I’m not my father’s daughter,” I add, a little more calmly.

He stands next to paintings of my family ancestors.

I’m the first in several generations to step outside of the family to seek my own goals and aspirations. Being short makes people think they can walk all over me, but they find out this girl has claws and knows how to use them. Nobody is going to put me in a tiny little box. Breaking glass ceilings is a pleasure.

“I never understood the reason why you turned your back on the life I gave you. You have to admit it does have its perks. We live in the lap of luxury. We don’t have to lift a finger. There’s a private chef ready day or night to cater to our whims. We have an Olympic -sized pool in the basement, and that’s just a few of the amenities right here at your fingertips. Life doesn’t get any better than this,” he says.

“We also have this constant fear following us around like a dark and foreboding shadow. That’s not any way to live. I want something different. I don’t have the stomach, and we both know it,” I say emphatically.

“Family will always come first. Look around you. These men knew what it was to sacrifice for something bigger than themselves. You’re not the only one to want out. I’ve never told you this, but I discussed with your grandfather the possibility of opening up a catering service,” he admits.

“That does make sense when I begin to think about it. My most treasured moment growing up was cooking with you in the kitchen. It was always after midnight when the chef was downstairs in bed,” I say.

“We had some fun dabbling in your mother’s cookbook. She’s the visionary in the family. She’s never condoned what I do, but she knows better than to disagree. I see her every time I look into your eyes,” he says with a catch in his throat.

“This isn’t going to change my mind. You’re just going to have to find another way to settle things with Caspian Knight. I think we both know what Diovolo is capable of. Do you really want to sacrifice your daughter to a man like him?

“He knows what he wants and goes after it.”

I listen to what he has to say.

When I was younger, I would have had a tantrum, but that isn’t going to solve anything. I don’t have a reasonable argument to decline, but that won’t stop me from standing my ground.

“That’s precisely what I’m worried about. You got yourself into this mess. Get yourself out of it without me.”

I shiver at the very notion of Caspian putting his hands on me.

“I don’t expect you to do this for me, but maybe you’ll do it for your mother. She’s not getting any better. Kidney dialysis isn’t cheap. It’s money that we just don’t have. I think you know where I’m going with this,”

My cheeks turn red with anger.

The clock on the wall is ticking incessantly. It’s a low blow, but he isn’t above using dirty tactics to get what he wants.

I can feel that flush spreading to the rest of my body. My skin is warm to the touch. He’s actually using what’s happening to my mother against me. He must be desperate to pull that card from up his sleeve. He’s never looked more frail and fragile and barely able to look me in the eyes.

“You have the unmitigated gall to use what is happening to my mother to make me even consider this insanity? It’s going against my better judgment, but I’ll agree to marry him on paper. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, tho. I’m not doing this for you,” I say before I leave.

Storming out is my last recourse.

There still could be a way out of this arrangement. Making his life miserable by constantly undermining him will hopefully make him see that being with me is a huge mistake.

If Caspian Knight expects to meet a meek and mild young woman of privilege, then he’s in for a rude awakening.

Chapter Two

Caspian

The details are fuzzy.

What happened to Valeria’s brother is tragic. The circumstances are shielded in mystery. The official report makes it sound like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That doesn’t seem likely considering who his father is.

There’s more to it than meets the eye, but nobody is talking.

The estate is built in solid brick and spans hundreds of square feet in either direction. The manicured lawn with its topiary wild animals is somewhat disconcerting. It feels like they’re going to come to life and attack me without provocation. It’s a testament to the artist that they’re so lifelike. I stare at the image of a lion, ferocious with its teeth bared.

The phone call wasn’t unexpected.

Being summoned to the estate like some common visitor does get underneath my skin, but it’s necessary to set the tone of our relationship from the first moment I meet her. She has to know who wears the pants in this family.

Leo is with me, silently standing by the car at my request. There’s no point in making it look like I’m ambushing her. There’s strength inside her diminutive frame. I’m hoping to break the wild filly.

“Stay here and wait for me. This shouldn’t take very long,” I say.

My fingers glide over the black leather jacket. It goes to my knees. The smooth material is the difference between fake and real.

The white shirt is supposed to focus her eyes on my upper body. There’s no shortage of hard work that goes into sculpting my physique. Seeing my naked body in the mirror in the morning gives me a chance to see the results up close and personal.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but this might not be a good use of your time. We already know somebody is working behind the scenes. It’s not a coincidence that two of your businesses were accosted by a hostile takeover. I’ve done my best to find those responsible, but they’re hiding behind shell companies,” Leo mentions in a neutral tone while barely showing any emotion.

“I depend on your counsel, but I do know what I’m doing. We’ve lost more than most people realize, and I’d like to keep the information on a need-to-know basis. Your loyalty is something I rely on.” I ring the doorbell and hear the echo of a chime sounding like an orchestra.

Leo doesn’t try to argue, but he’s certainly given me a lot to think about.

Enemies come in many forms, but whoever is masterminding this systematic destruction of my empire is doing it subtly. It started small, but recently, things have escalated.

A couple of my men disappeared without a trace. It almost feels like somebody is playing a dangerous game of chess. The strategy is simple enough.

Somebody is eliminating key pieces from the board. My board. They don’t do me the courtesy of attacking me face-to-face. The age of technology is making it easier by utilizing the Internet. It’s cowardly but rather effective.

Peter greets me in person instead of allowing one of his staff to do it for him.

“I can admire a man that opens his own front door,” I say.

“The old guard is coming to an end. The next generation thinks they have all the answers, but they don’t even know what the question is. She’s waiting for you in the living room by the fire. She’s not very happy about this,” Peter informs me.

“I’ll treat her with kid gloves. It might be better for me to do this alone. I don’t need your input. What happens from this moment on is between the two of us,” I say.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” he replies

“I suspect that we’ll have a June wedding. That’s only a couple of months away. It doesn’t leave us a lot of time, but money does speak volumes. It will be an intimate affair with only a select few attending the nuptials. Your wife is more than welcome. I’m sure arrangements can be made for her…ahem…condition. I would never want to deprive her of seeing her little girl walk down the aisle,” I add.

“She would enjoy that. I’ll let you two kids get better acquainted. You’ll find me in the library when you finish. Don’t leave without telling me how it went. Don’t make any sudden movements to spook her. The last thing you want to do is offend her,” Peter says.

He shuffles off, his Italian loafers scuffing the dark wooden floor. The heavy black drapes make the place inhospitable. It needs a facelift. The walls are adorned with several characters from their family tree.

I’ve heard about her grandfather. Of course, it was a different time then.

Back in the day, it was all about pomp and circumstance. Nothing was spared. The food was sumptuous, with a feast fit for a king and his queen.

I find myself at the threshold where I can see her standing by the glow of the fireplace.

Valeria is staring into the flames and doesn’t even look up when I enter the room.

“I’m here to discuss the wedding,” I announce.

She turns to me with a look of anger. “Well, if it isn’t Diavolo himself.”

“You can call me, Caspian Knight,” I suggest.

‘So formal…considering you want to marry me. You can call me your worst nightmare,” Valeria says.

“I would rather call you Valeria,” I reply.

“You’re a despicable human being. Losing my brother made my father go into a tailspin. I know what you going to say, and it doesn’t excuse your behavior. You took advantage of an old man when he came with his hand out. How can you possibly look at yourself in the mirror?” Valeria asks.

I thought she would dress to impress, but this is the first salvo of many arguments. Those tight jeans leave little to the imagination. The yellow canary blouse is practically see-through, exposing her unmentionables. The black mesh bra is enticing.

“Let’s get one thing perfectly straight. I gave your family a lifeline. It’s not my fault your father squandered it by making bad decisions. I would think you would be grateful. I was in my right to dismantle the Lewis organization, but I decided against it. The name still holds deep respect. We don’t have to be at odds,” I say.

I didn’t notice before, but she’s holding a glass of cognac. Standing by the fire allows her to let the flames warm the liquid in her hands. Then, she turns to face me, leaning against the fireplace.

“You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig.”

“That’s a colorful way of saying it. I’m not sure that I agree with your analogy. Let’s not fight when we have more important things to discuss. The honeymoon comes to mind,” I snicker.

“It’s just like you to talk about sex at a time like this. I never said anything about consummating the relationship. That was never agreed,” Valeria says.

“Your family was a mighty big influence. You’re going to have to obey me. Forget that you’re a Lewis. Once you marry me, you will belong to me,” I state.

 

Valeria

I almost burst out laughing, but I decide a little tact will go a long way. “Don’t forget that I’m doing you a favor by marrying into your family. We both know you don’t have the legitimacy. Fear isn’t the only way to get what you want.”

I gasp when he advances toward me so fast that I don’t even have a chance to breathe. He’s quick and agile, with muscles that are hard to ignore. It makes me feel a little breathless, with my heart pumping faster than normal. My clothes are sticking to me.

The temperature in the room has risen a few degrees. I’m not sure if he wants to hit me or kiss me. It’s hard to tell from the way he’s looking at me. That smug little smirk is getting on my nerves.

“What did you say to me? I dare you to repeat it,” Caspian urges.

I can feel his hot breath, but that isn’t going to temper my anger toward him.

My father isn’t the force of nature that he was when I was younger. That man was my hero until he fell from his lofty perch after my brother died. Seeing him shaken to the core and ground under the foot of life has been a wake-up call.

Caspian was there at the funeral, but he never approached me. His piercing blue eyes were cold and calculating, but there was an untapped passion beyond that. His reputation did precede him. The name Diavolo is well deserved. I’ve heard several tales of the way that he earns his power by intimidation and violence.

He came from nothing with a business acumen nobody could deny. He’s learned to step over the little guy with extreme prejudice. There are bodies in his wake, but nobody knows where they’re buried.

His love life is a revolving door of conquests depicted in several photographs in the media.

“You heard what I said. Where did your father go wrong with you? This is no way to treat a lady. The very idea of marrying you makes me physically sick to my stomach,” I say.

“I don’t care what you think. The arrangement has already been made. You don’t have to like it, but you’re going to live with it. This doesn’t have to be miserable. I can see us having a lot of fun in the future. There’s no time like the present,”  Caspian says with a smile.

“I’m not one of your bimbos you spend time with. They are only interested in your money. So I’m going along with this, but only under protest,” I say.

He’s quick with a retort. “Just as long as you know your place. Don’t think for one second you’re going to be privy to my business. The only time I want to see you is at dinner and in bed. The rest of the time, you can paint your nails and sit by the pool getting a tan for all I care.”

“This idea of you thinking I’m going to be seen and not heard isn’t going to cut it with me. If I have to go along with this, there will have to be certain rules. Having sex is out of the question. I don’t want to hear anything more about it. My family will merge with your family, but that’s the closest you’ll physically get to me. But I will be at the table. You will no longer make unilateral decisions,” I say.

He rolls his eyes. “You have no say in any of this. I’m holding all the cards.”

“I think we can agree the woman always has the power,” I say.

“I’m not going to be told what to do by you or anybody,”  Caspian threatens.

I suddenly feel his fingers pressing into the soft tissue of my neck. He backs me up against the far wall with his knee between my legs. The warm sensation is highly unexpected. That slight friction is enough to create a spark of interest.

I hate myself for letting my body dictate the terms of my surrender. I thought I was stronger than that. His hand slides through my hair until he’s gripping it tightly and making me look him right in the eyes.

“I don’t know the meaning of this, but if you don’t take your hand off of me, I’m going to scream for help,” I threaten.

He places his other hand over my mouth. He’s preventing me from crying out, but his dominance is exhilarating. Taking what he wants translates from the board room to the bedroom.

“I do like a little fire. It makes things more exciting when I have you pinned to the bed. . You can keep up this charade, but we both know the truth. Your mouth says no, but your body is screaming…yes”.

The hand around my throat moves until he plucks two buttons from my blouse. He traces the outline of my cleavage with his finger. His mouth is open with his tongue extended until he is licking the surface of his lips.

He grabs my ass cheeks, and my eyes widen when he squeezes.

I can scream, but something inside me doesn’t want to. It’s hard to justify what my body is craving. The missing component in my life is somebody to take my breath away. Working my fingers to the bone has made it almost impossible to make room for a man in my life.

Loving and leaving them isn’t my style.

A little persistence has me feeling his arousal pounding against the zipper of his pants. My eyes stray until I’m witnessing the monument of his manhood. That cock has grown considerably. The outline is simply awe-inspiring.

His fingers graze my lower spine. It causes my chest to arch and my nipples to become hard enough to cut glass.

I attempt to stop it before it gets out of hand by bringing my knee between his legs. However, he catches it before I can do any real harm and holds it firmly while pulling down my blouse until my shoulder is exposed.

“That’s not going to happen again,”  Caspian says.

He brings his lips to mine but moves on quickly to the nape of my neck. It’s hard not to feel wanted and desired.

The feel of his lips are soft and demanding. My skin is on fire.

I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I’m close to succumbing to the heat between us.

Then suddenly, he walks away, and my legs almost give way.

As I steady myself, I hear something vibrating.

He fishes into his pocket and brings a phone to his ear, passion turning to anger. “How the hell did this happen? Somebody should have contacted me. Find out where he is. Don’t call me back until you find out. I want answers.”

He doesn’t even look back as he exits the room.

Something has ruffled his feathers. It has to be important enough for him to run out without finishing our little business.

I lower my body until I’m sitting on the floor with my hands wrapped around my knees. It makes me feel weak without a leg to stand on. His hands and body have given me this overwhelming hunger to see what’s hiding underneath his pressed suit of metaphorical armor

What the hell did I get myself into?

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