71

Book 2
Prologue
My fingers trembled like leaves in the breeze as I lifted them, my heart fluttering like a hummingbird.
Luca’s strong hand was steady and firm as he took mine and slipped the ring on my finger.
White gold with twenty small diamonds.
What was supposed to be a sign of love and devotion to other couples was nothing more than a testament to his ownership of me. A daily reminder of the golden cage in which I would be trapped for the rest of my life.
Till death do us part was not a vain promise as it was for so many other couples who entered into the sacred bond of marriage. For me, there was no way out of this union. I was Luca’s until the end. The last words of the oath that men took when they were drafted into the mob could very well have been the conclusion of my wedding vow:
“I go in alive and have to come out dead.”
I should have run while I still had the chance. Now, as hundreds of faces from the Familias of Chicago and New York stared back at us, running was no longer an option. Neither was divorce. Death was the ‘only acceptable end to a marriage in our world. Even if I still managed to escape the watchful eyes of Luke and his henchmen, my violation of our agreement would mean war. Nothing my father could say would stop Luca’s Familia from exercising revenge for making him lose face.
My feelings didn’t matter; they never did. I grew up in a world where no choice was given, especially to women.
This marriage was not about love, trust or choice. It was about duty and honor, about doing what was expected.
A bond to ensure peace.
I was not an idiot. I knew what else it was about: money and power. Both were diminishing since the Russian Mafia “The Bratva,” the Taiwanese Triad and other criminal organizations had tried to expand their influence in our territories. The Italian Familias in the United States needed to lay down their feuds to rest and work together to defeat their enemies. I would be honored to marry the eldest son of the New York Familias. This was what my father and every other male relative had been trying to tell me since my engagement to Luke. I knew it, and it was not as if I had not had time to prepare for that exact moment, yet fear gripped my body in a relentless grip.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
I raised my head. Every pair of eyes in the pavilion scrutinized me, waiting for a glimmer of weakness. Father would be angry if I let my terror show, and Luca’s Familia would use it against us.
But I had grown up in a world where a perfect mask was the only protection offered to women, and I had no problem forcing my face to assume a placid expression. No one would know how much I wanted to escape. No one except Luca. I couldn’t hide from him, no matter how hard I tried. My body would not stop shaking. When my gaze met Luca’s cold gray eyes, I could tell he knew. How many times had he instilled fear in others? Recognizing it was probably second nature to him.
He bent down to fill the ten inches that towered over me. There was no sign of hesitation, fear or doubt on his face. My lips trembled against his mouth as his eyes pierced me. Their message was clear: you are mine.
CHAPTER ONE
Three years earlier I was curled up on the chaise longue in our library, reading, when there was a knock. Liliana’s head was resting on my lap and she didn’t even move when the dark wooden door opened and our mother entered, her dark blond hair pulled tightly back and tied in a bun behind her head. Mother was pale, her face pulled tight with worry.
“Has something happened?” I asked.
She smiled, but it was her false smile. “Your father wants to talk to you in his office.”
Carefully I moved from under Lily’s head and laid her on the chaise-longue. She drew her legs closer to her body. She was small for eleven years old, but I wasn’t exactly tall either, being 5’7″. None of the women in our family were. Mother avoided my gaze as I walked toward her.
“Am I in trouble?” I didn’t know what I could have done wrong. Usually Lily and I were the obedient ones; Gianna was the one who always broke the rules and was punished.
“Hustle. Don’t let your father wait,” Mom simply said.
My stomach was tight when I arrived in front of Father’s office. After a moment to stifle my nerves, I knocked.
“Have a seat.”
I entered, forcing myself to carefully guard my face. My father sat behind his mahogany desk in a wide black leather armchair; behind him were the mahogany shelves filled with books that Dad had never read, but they hid a secret entrance to the basement and a hallway leading outside the premises.
He looked up from a pile of sheets, his gray hair pulled back. “Sit down.”
I dropped into one of the chairs across from his desk and crossed my hands in my lap, trying not to bite my lower lip. My father hated that. I waited for him to start talking. He had a strange expression on his face as he scrutinized me. “The Bratva and the Triad are trying to claim our territories. They are getting bolder by the day. We are luckier than the Las Vegas family who also have to deal with the Mexicans, but we can no longer ignore the threat posed by the Russians and Taiwanese.”
Confusion filled me. My father never talked to us about business. The girls did not need to know the finer details of the mob business. I knew better than to interrupt him.
“We have to end our feud with the New York Familia and join forces if we want to fight the Bratva and the Triad.” Peace with the Familia? My father and all the other members of the Chicago Outfit hated the Familia. They had been killing each other for decades and only recently decided to ignore each other to kill members of other criminal organizations, such as the Bratva and the Triad. “There is no bond stronger than blood. At least the Familia got it right.”
I frowned.
“Born in blood. Sworn in blood. That is their motto.”
I nodded, but my confusion only increased.
“Yesterday I met with Salvatore Vitiello.” My father met with the Capo dei Capi, the head of the New York Mafia? It had been a decade since a meeting had taken place between New York and Chicago, and the last time it had not ended well. It was still called Bloody Thursday. And Dad wasn’t even the boss. He was just the Councilman, the advisor to Fiore Cavallaro who ruled the Outfit and with it crime in the Midwest.
“We agreed that for peace to be an option, we had to become a family.” My father’s eyes stared at me, and suddenly I didn’t want to hear what else he had to say. “Cavallaro and I agreed that you would marry his eldest son Luca, the future Head of the Familia.”
I felt like I was falling. “Why me?”
“Vitiello and Fiore have spoken several times on the phone in recent weeks, and Vitiello wanted the most beautiful girl for his son. Of course we couldn’t give him the daughter of one of our soldiers. Fiore has no daughters, so he said you were the most beautiful girl available. Gianna was just as beautiful, but she was younger. That probably saved her.
“There are so many beautiful girls,” I choked. I couldn’t breathe. My father looked at me as if I were his most precious possession.
“There aren’t many Italian girls with hair like yours,” he said. Fiore described it as golden.” Father laughed. “You are our gateway to the New York Familia.”
“But, Father, I’m fifteen years old. I can’t get married.”
Father made a dismissive gesture. “If you agreed, you could. What do we care about laws?
I squeezed the armrests so hard that my knuckles turned white, but I felt no pain.
Numbness was working its way through my body.
“But I told Salvatore that marriage would have to wait until you were eighteen. Your mother was adamant that you be of age and finish school. Fiore let his pleas get to him.
So the boss had told my father that marriage would have to wait. My father would now throw me into the arms of my future husband. My husband. A wave of unease washed over me.
I knew only two things about Luca Vitiello; he would become the head of the New York mob once his father retired or died, and he was given the nickname “The Deputy” for crushing a man’s throat with his bare hands.
I didn’t know how old he was. My cousin Bibiana had to marry a man 30 years older than her. Luca couldn’t be that old if his father wasn’t still retired. At least, that’s what I hoped. Was he that cruel?
He had crushed a man’s throat. He would be the head of the New York Mafia.
“Father,” I whispered. “Please don’t make me marry that man.”
My father’s expression tensed. “You are going to marry Luca Vitiello. I shook his father Salvatore’s hand. You will be a good wife to Luca, and when you meet him for the engagement celebration, you will behave like an obedient woman.
“Engagement party?” I echoed. My voice sounded distant, as if a veil of fog covered my ears.
“Of course. It’s a good way to establish ties between our families and will give Luke a chance to see what he will get out of the arrangement. We don’t want to disappoint him.”
“When?” I cleared my throat but the knot remained. “When is the engagement party?”
“August. We haven’t set a date yet.
That was in two months. I nodded numbly. I loved reading romance novels and every time the couples in them got married, I imagined what my wedding would be like. I had always imagined that it would be full of excitement and love. Empty dreams of a silly girl.
“So am I allowed to continue attending school?” What did it matter if I graduated? I would never go to college, I would never work. All I could do was warm my husband’s bed. My throat tightened further and tears stung my eyes, but I wanted them not to fall. My father hated it when we lost control.
“YES. I told Vitiello that you attend a Catholic girls’ school, and he seems to like that.”
Of course he did. I couldn’t risk getting close to the boys.
“Is that all?”
“For now.”
I walked out of the office as if in a trance. I had turned fifteen four months ago. My birthday had felt like a huge step toward my future and I was excited. Silly me. My life was over before it had even begun. Everything was decided for me.