CHAPTER ONE
Serafina
My earliest recollection of a funeral was my grandfather's.
I knew of him, that was all. He was practically a stranger to me.
We never had a bond, but he loved my brother dearly.
I always wondered why our grandfather never gave me any chocolate or hugs, as he would to Damon.
Then, I grew older… I realized it was simply because I was a girl.
My worth was nothing in his eyes.
He wanted another grandson, a spare to the heir… but instead I was a liability. A hindrance to our lineage.
I was too young to remember much of his death. Being only knee high I was lost in the shuffle of the day, no one cared to check on me or see how I was doing. I had merely faded in the background.
But not today.
No, this time… I was more than just a shadow. I had a dozen sets of eyes on me.
Watching my reaction. Waiting to see an emotional breakdown. But I refused to give them the spectacle they wanted.
I was poised and graceful. Calm and collected.
Dressed in a black Alexander McQueen coat dress, paired with black velvet Gianvito Rossi stiletto heels and a black hat with a veil, I was the perfect image of elegance.
As they laid my mother into the cold ground, in her pretty casket, I waited for the emotions, the terrible feeling of loss and anguish to hit me, but I felt nothing.
Maybe something was wrong with me.
Or maybe I was just a bit resentful toward this dead woman.
Caterina Morelli was a stone-faced, heartless mother. Her assassination wasn’t as distressing as it should have been, but I was resentful, nonetheless. Because her death brought me back here, home to men who wanted to control me.
Once my father’s friends and associates started to crowd him to offer their condolences, I slowly backed away from the sea of people.
My job here was done.
I stood gracefully by my father and brother as they laid my mother to rest: the perfect daughter of the Morelli family.
And now, I could make my escape from all this facade.
I quietly made my way up the hills of the cemetery where I knew I’d find the perfect hiding spot, away from everyone’s prying eyes.
At the bend of a small stream stood a graceful gazebo, its six carved pillars spiraling upward as though shaped by an artist’s hand.
The white stones of the pillars were pale and cool, contrasting with the warm terracotta tiles that formed the gentle slope of its roof.
Flowers and perfectly carved bushes wrapped around its white marble base, making the gazebo look like a peaceful retreat hidden on this tragic landscape—where the wind of death lingered.
I sat on the cold, stony bench under the gazebo. Chicago's weather in March was highly unpredictable, and today’s breeze was surprisingly cool but not freezing.
So, this was my life now.
Back in Chicago, where I needed to be. I had escaped this part of my life for far too long.
I had a role here to play, a wife to be…
a perfect pawn in this dirty game for the rich and corrupted men.
My life was given to a complete stranger to end the bloodshed, and now it was time for the Salvatores to collect.
I never consented to it… but nothing has ever been fair to me.
I never had motherly love. And with my father, I felt warmth and tenderness from him before but even that didn’t last long. It was taken from me and then I was sent away from everything I had known. I had to start anew, and the friends I made… even those were not real.
Even though I had lost too much… I still had more to lose. So I had to be careful and guarded. It had been a desolated and forsaken life. A loneliness my scarred soul wanted to escape, but I couldn’t.
I craved for something more, something deeper, something real. Except a love story like that was never written for a woman like me.
But I wasn’t going to resign myself to an empty, tragic life. I had a purpose, something more significant than what Santino Morelli had planned for me, and whatever the cost of it, I was going to fulfill that purpose.
“A pretty lady like you should never be sitting alone, looking so pitiful.” An unfamiliar voice brushed against my back, quiet but unexpected, and surprise fluttered in my chest. It startled me from my stillness and I looked over my shoulder in confusion.
Who would dare to approach me, let alone speak to me? I am the only daughter of Santino Morelli and the future Salvatore bride… My name was only spoken in hushed whispers, a presence you were never meant to approach.
Serafina Morelli was forbidden territory that no one had ever been brave enough to cross. It was a simple fact.
My gaze landed on him and my breath fluttered with a silent gasp. Oh my, he was a mountain of a man—tall, powerfully built, imposing; the kind of man who made everyone else fall silent.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His strong, chiseled jaw twitched and my attention was drawn to the cut on his left upper lip when he gave me a devious half-smirk.
God—he was undeniably attractive. Handsome in a rugged, dangerous way.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He was too close. I didn’t like that.
His presence filled the space and my lungs expanded as I forced myself to take an unsteady breath. There was something all-consuming about him. I can’t breathe.
The man standing over me was a complete stranger.
Mysterious.
Someone I didn’t recognize, so I knew he wasn’t one of my father’s men. Who would be bold enough to approach me if they knew how reckless it was…?
Unless—
This mysterious man was the one I was meant to meet today.
Matteo Salvatore.
It had to be him, that was the only logical answer.
I cleared my throat before speaking. “I’m not exactly alone. You’re here,” I responded. Poised and calm. I couldn’t afford to freak out now. This was only the beginning of my life’s biggest trial. The most ruthless game of them all and I had to play it just right. “Why are you here?”
Matteo slowly stalked around to stand in front of me, and he leaned against the stoned pillar, crossing his arms over his wide chest. In this spot, he was perfectly hidden from any onlookers.
“Because I am simply a gentleman and I saw a young, beautiful damsel in distress so I thought to offer her my comfort.”
My hands fisted on my lap at his assumption. “I’m not a damsel in distress.” While men like him adored pretty, ditzy girls, I couldn’t appear completely helpless. I would never be his equal, but I had to be strong and composed.
His rakish smile widened, but there was nothing handsome about it.
It was taunting, dangerous, and utterly sinful.
His eyes slowly moved over me, unabashedly watching…
assessing, maybe trying to figure out my worth, before our gazes clashed once more.
“No, you’re right. You’re not some kind, distressed woman and that’s exactly why I find it so… peculiarly intriguing,” he mused aloud.
Oh.
“What’s intriguing?”
“You.”
I blinked. And then blinked again. “Sorry, what?”
“Your mother was killed in cold blood, and yet you have not shed a single tear. Not at the church, and not when she was being buried,” he recounted, as if I hadn’t been there myself.
So he had been watching me.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I knew it.
I had felt it.
“Tears are not synonymous with sadness,” I finally said.
“You’re right, but neither is there any sorrow in your eyes. Fascinating,” he drawled, his voice rough and insincere. There was something undeniably taunting about his words. Oh, so he was mocking me now.
I huffed in response. “Well, my mother wasn’t exactly the sweetest mother. Everyone grieves differently.”
I was sure he would understand. It wasn’t like he had some kind of sweet childhood either. We were both raised in the same cruel society that we called the underworld. The same one that turned him into the man he was now. The opposite of gentlemanly.
“No,” he tsked darkly. “You don’t grieve, Ms. Morelli. I find no sadness or anguish in you. You’re not grieving but there is yearning in your eyes… longing in your melancholy smile. Loneliness.”
The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears and my spine tingled. How did he know? How could he see my truth so soon when I had buried it so well for so many years?
He wasn’t just watching me…
He sees me.
There was another flutter in my stomach. No, this was all wrong.
His words were all wrong.
The Matteo I had been told about was not so sensible… thoughtful.
This conversation was not going according to plan. Why would he care if I yearned… if I was lonely…? Or maybe he truly was a psychopath who enjoyed and thrived on others’ desolation. That must be it.
“So you find my loneliness attractive? It’s intriguing to you? That’s not very gentlemanly nor is it honorable,” I clipped, my entire body shaking now.
He chuckled darkly. “I never claimed to be an honorable gentleman.”
“What do you want from me, Mr—” I waited for him to finally introduce himself.
“Salvatore.”
Aha. I knew I had made the correct assumption all along. Indeed my mystery man was Matteo Salvatore.
“Alright, Mr. Salvatore. You already know who I am, so tell me the real reason why you approached me.”
I already knew why, but I wanted him to say it. His words would make it official. Soon enough our lives were to be entwined and we had to somehow be honest with each other. No, we didn’t have to always tell the truth but at least, we had to be on the same page.
“Now that I can’t tell you.” He quirked up an eyebrow, almost mischievously. “I don’t reveal my secrets to strangers.”
Huh. Impressive.
“Since you have acknowledged that we’re strangers to each other, I’m in fact not allowed to speak with strangers.” I rose to my feet, straightening the dress at my waist before brushing my hand down the fabric to smooth out any creases. “Excuse me.”
My heels clinked on the marble tiles as I walked away from the man who would soon own me.