Just For Them (Cerasino Family #6)

Prologue / ella

prologue / ella

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

I sipped my wine, watching the scene unfold across the room. My fiancé leaned down and whispered something in the short-skirted server’s ear. She’d been flirting with him since he’d arrived. If there was one thing Giorgio adored, it was female attention. The younger and prettier, the better. This one looked like she was barely legal. I knew, without a doubt, she would leave the room shortly and Giorgio would follow.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, Giorgio would reappear. He’d look just as perfectly put together as always. The only indication that anything had happened would be the smug, satisfied smirk on his face.

It was a process he would repeat several times tonight. I knew this because that was what he always did. Giorgio was nothing if not predictable.

My face remained impassive. Like all the women in my family, I had been trained not to show emotions.

In truth, I didn’t care how many women he seduced. If he was with them, he wasn’t bothering me. Our impending nuptials were not a love match, but a lucrative business arrangement between two powerful crime families. Besides, my opinion on the matter was irrelevant. No one cared what I thought.

That this sort of thing still happened in today’s day and age might seem shocking to some, but not to me. I’d grown up in this world. I expected nothing less. My father, along with my grandfather before him, had done the same thing. The Ferraros married for money and power, not for something as trivial and unprofitable as love. That was what mistresses were for.

I, Alessandra Mariella Ferraro, the only daughter of Gaetano Ferraro, was nothing but a pawn in a game that my people had been playing for a long, long time.

It was what it was.

Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to experience true love. To look at someone and have my heart speed up in anticipation. To think about someone and have my skin tingle with desire instead of dread. To care enough to want to spend time with them outside of duty and obligation.

“That’s got to hurt,” my cousin Pia said wryly from beside me.

“Yeah, I’m gutted,” I replied flatly.

I didn’t take Giorgio’s actions personally. He didn’t want this marriage any more than I did. Making a show of seducing every attractive female within his vicinity was his way of expressing his displeasure with the arrangement. As a ‘ndrina capo’s unmarried daughter, I was not afforded the same luxury.

Pia’s lips curled up in amusement. “I can tell. But seriously, Lessa, he’s disrespecting you and our family with his behavior.”

She had a point. Love wasn’t a big deal in our lives, but respect was. I should at least try to appear as if I cared.

I took another sip of wine, appreciating the excellent bouquet, and silently weighed the pros and cons of reacting, deciding that doing so would work to my advantage.

I glanced across the room to where my father was standing with my soon-to-be father-in-law. Both were scowling at my fiancé’s retreating form. My father, in anger. Giorgio’s father, in disappointment. Affairs were common, even expected, but this was our engagement party after all, and a measure of self-control was warranted. Giorgio should be able to keep it in his pants for a few hours—or at the very least, be more discreet.

I shifted my gaze to my brothers. Giorgio’s blatant antics hadn’t escaped their notice either. Their expressions were tense, their hands flexing and fisting at their sides as they glared in the direction my fiancé had taken with murder in their eyes.

Murder, however, was not on the agenda. The whole point of this arrangement was to avoid a war, not start one.

I put down my wine. “You’re right. I think I need some air.”

“Attagirl,” Pia said softly.

It was my only recourse. Our world was a misogynistic one, ruled by made men. Nothing I said now would make a difference. I’d tried, believe me. The die had been cast. My fate had been determined by blood and by duty, and my options were extremely limited.

I was not okay with that, no matter how stoic and unaffected I appeared on the outside.

With what I hoped was a hurt look toward the galley, I lifted my full-coverage evening gown and made my way out to the deck. I was stone-cold sober, but I wobbled tipsily for effect. The casual observer would have seen me tossing back several glasses of Sassicaia—the expensive Italian wine Giorgio’s family preferred for these ostentatious dog and pony shows—over the course of the evening. In truth, I’d had, at most, a few sips for courage and discreetly dumped the rest. I needed to keep my wits about me.

Thankfully, the deck was unoccupied, and I had a few precious moments to myself.

A storm was quickly approaching. Heavy gray clouds obscured the nearly full moon for minutes at a time, darkening the silvery-tipped caps on the choppy lake and making it hard to see anything. I couldn’t have asked for a better setting. Still, I considered abandoning my desperate plan. Despite my extensive preparation, what I was about to do was a huge risk.

Hmm . Possible death or a guaranteed miserable life with Giorgio Moretti? I’d take my chances with the Grim Reaper.

“Lessa,” my brother Stefano’s voice called out from the darkness as I pondered my options.

Stefano was the oldest of my brothers, the one who would inherit the reins when my father decided to step down someday. Unlike my father, Stefano believed everyone had a right to choose who they would spend the rest of their life with.

Unfortunately, Stefano wasn’t the head of our family yet, and I didn’t have the luxury of waiting around until he was.

I gave him a watery smile. This I didn’t have to fake. I would miss him terribly.

He gathered me in his arms. I drew in the scent of Dior Sauvage—my brother’s cologne of choice—and returned his embrace.

“I’m going to mess up your Tom Ford.” I sniffed, stepping back.

He pulled a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Like I care. I’ve got a dozen more.”

I laughed lightly. He had a lot more than that. Stefano liked to look good, and his wardrobe reflected that.

“It’s not right,” he muttered. “That stronzo doesn’t deserve you.”

“No,” I agreed. “But it is what it is.”

He stared out at the waves, flashes of occasional moonlight reflecting in his dark eyes. “Let me talk to Papa again. After tonight’s disgusting display, he might realize the price of this alliance is too high. There are others we can align with.”

I nodded, smoothing the lapels of his jacket, silently appreciating the sentiment. But I knew Stefano’s protests would come to nothing. Sure, there were other families, but Luca Moretti’s was the most powerful—and therefore, the biggest threat to ours. Since Luca only had sons, I was the only way to merge the bloodlines. More importantly, our father had already agreed to the arrangement, and men like my father never went back on their word. Their word was their bond.

“I can always just kill Giorgio,” Stefano said as calmly as if he were talking about selecting a different tie.

“My champion,” I murmured with a smile. “But you know that would cause a war.”

He curled his index finger and gently lifted my chin. “You’re worth it.”

I was glad someone thought so. But there was no way I’d allow any of my brothers, or anyone else in my family, to get hurt because of me. That was one of the reasons I’d come up with my own plan. No one would get hurt this way. Well, not physically anyway. Mentally, they would be devastated.

As would I. Despite everything, I did love my family.

But life would go on.

“Thanks, Stefano, but we each have our roles to play. Yours is to take over the family someday. Mine is to marry Giorgio and forge this alliance. I’ve resigned myself to it.”

He exhaled. “I’m going to change things, Lessa.”

“I know you will.” I only wished I would be around to see it.

He turned to go back inside. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet. I’m going to stay out here for a while and clear my head. Too much wine, not enough food.”

Stefano leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Of course. Take as long as you need, Topolina .”

The ache in my chest intensified with the familiar endearment. Stefano had been calling me Little Mouse for as long as I could remember.

I watched him step into the cabin, knowing it was the last time I would ever see my brother. My eyes filled with unshed tears, and for a moment—just a moment—I considered abandoning my plan, walking back in there, and doing what I had been raised to do.

My feet refused to carry me inside.

I turned back to the water and ruthlessly shoved every doubt, every misgiving, down deep. I had, at most, a few minutes before someone else came looking for me. Probably one of Moretti’s guard dogs, ensuring I wasn’t having an illicit tryst of my own out here before my wedding.

Ironic, I knew. Talk about a double standard.

I strolled toward the shadows, out of sight. I confirmed my bearings, using the moon and the faraway lights of the distant shore. Looking back one last time to ensure I was alone, I saw the door open. Music and voices drifted out onto the deck as I saw the silhouette of my fiancé step out, light a cigarette, and begin to turn my way.

I was out of time. It was now or never.

Gripping the railing, I whispered a prayer and silently vaulted over the side.

There was a moment of weightlessness. Of absolute and total freedom. Then the lake surrounded me with the force of a freight train, squeezing me in an icy grip that stole my breath completely. Even with the skinsuit I’d donned beneath my dress, the cold water was a shock.

Kicking off my heels before my feet went totally numb, I tore away the long skirt with little effort, having prepared that ahead of time too. Then I began to swim as if my life and the lives of everyone I loved depended on it.

Because they did.