Chapter 1
GIANNA
My twenty-first birthday came and went and nothing’s different.
A childish part of my mind—or maybe it’s the only sane part—believed that maybe now that I’m of age I can do whatever I want.
I blame all the movies I watch and rewatch for giving me that idea.
But in reality, I’m still in the same golden cage I was yesterday, and for the last twenty-one years.
My cage isn’t just golden, it’s practically diamond-studded.
But it’s just as suffocating as any iron cage in existence.
The bedroom I just woke up in is bigger than most people’s apartments and my view out the window stretches across a gorgeous garden all the way to the ocean in the distance.
We’re at the Hamptons house, because that’s where my birthday party was held and the place is big enough to fit everyone that wanted to be here.
Out of over two hundred guests, maybe a handful of people were here just for me.
My sisters Chiara and Lidia, possibly my mother.
But Mom just floated around the party with a glass of pink champagne in her hand and a calm smile on her face that never changed.
Probably drunk and heavily sedated. She’s been that way ever since my older brother Antonio was killed by the Russina Mafia, the Bratva, in the back room of an underground gambling parlor.
It’s been over a year, and I’m afraid she’ll never recover from his death.
She doesn’t talk about it. Because one doesn’t talk about such things.
Death and war and grief are a part of our world.
The retribution for the killing has been raging for the better part of this year.
I’ve now lost three cousins, two uncles and another two cousins are likely to go soon.
And for what?
To get at the son of the head guy of the Bratva, the Russian Mafia’s capo, or whatever they call him?
But the cowards are keeping that one so well hidden we could lose all our men before we get to him.
It’s sacrilege to even suggest we give up though.
And I’m not suggesting. It wouldn’t be my place anyway.
My place is in this diamond-studded golden cage watching it all, and making as little sound as possible.
Or the one back in New York City, which I prefer because at least there’s something going on down on the street all the time.
I loved my brother and I’m sorry he’s gone. But he was fifteen years older than me, a made man before I was even born and I didn’t know him very well.
Trouble is, he was my father’s only son. He has no heir now. And I—his oldest daughter—am unmarriable.
I was twelve the first time I was engaged. I hated every minute of thinking I would have to marry some stranger the moment I turned eighteen. But that guy was killed within six months of presenting me with an engagement ring.
My next engagement came when I was fifteen. To a guy called Mario, Rafaelle and Antonio’s best friend, the only son of my dad’s main consigliere. He gave me the ring in July. And he was dead before Christmas.
The third brave soul, Bruno, came a year later.
Didn’t last out the month. I hated all of them, didn’t love any of them, but that wasn’t their fault.
I just didn’t want to be given away like a piece of property, signed off for favor and connections.
I’m sorry they’re dead. But I’m glad I didn’t have to marry them.
Turns out, having to marry a man I don’t love is actually the least of my problems.
Gianna the cursed, they call me now. Because all my fiancés die as soon as the engagement to me is formal.
Whenever they see me, some of the older women in the family make the sign of the cross or the other one, the one to banish the devil, which looks like the sign metalheads use. They don’t think I can see, but I can.
And after three failed engagements, even my father started thinking along those lines and believing that I was curse, all the Sicilian superstitions getting the better of him.
He’s the capo of one of the five families that rule the New York Mafia via The Commission, which makes him one of the most powerful guys on the East Coast. But he has a dead heir, and a daughter he can’t find a husband for.
My curse has spread to my sisters as well.
No one’s in any hurry to get engaged to them either.
Especially now that the wolves in the form of the Bratva are at the door and a lot of people are looking to bank on my father’s weakness.
My birthday party was supposed to be a show of strength, a display of how many supporters my father still has. Over two hundred people were here. But how many were here just to find a way to kill my dad?
The door opens, startling me so badly I drop the hairbrush I was running through my hair while all that whirled though my head.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” my sister Chiara exclaims. “Feeling old yet?”
“Don’t make her feel bad,” Lidia mutters as she quietly closes the door which Chiara threw open pompously.
They’re twins and look exactly alike with their dark hair and green eyes.
But personality-wise they might as well be night and day.
Chiara is loud enough to wake the dead, and Lidia never has an unkind thing to say to anyone.
The perfect personality to become a nun, Chiara sometimes says.
Chiara in turn, has the perfect personality to become a stripper. But I said that, Lidia never would.
“What are you looking at down there?” Chiara says, joining me at the window. “The shirtless hotties clearing up the mess?”
She looks out the window at the garden where a small army of men and women are clearing up after the party last night. And no, none of the men are shirtless. It’s also all too far away to see clearly. Now and then, one of the pink or white balloons the garden was full of pops loudly.
Lidia comes to stand at my other side. “It was a fun party. I’m sad it’s over.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say and find that I actually am. Our days are so similar to each other that even a party that wasn’t meant just for me is a highlight.
“But you two will be having your own twenty-first birthday party here in just over a year. That’s something to look forward to.”
Chiara rolls her eyes, and Lidia nods, but the look on her face suggests she’s not convinced their party will be a whole lot of fun.
I lay the golden, pearl-lined hairbrush I was using on the windowsill.
It belonged to my great-grandmother, who was chained up in a cage of plenty the same as my sisters and I are.
Everything is perfect in this cage, everything beautiful and expensive.
And right now, everything is just too much of a reminder of how stuck I am.
“Now it’s back to business as usual,” I say. “What do you say to a trip to the mall later and maybe a movie…or ten.”
Lidia’s face lights up, but Chiara scoffs. “No way. No boring stuff. DJ Enzo Vital is playing at the Sphere tonight and we’re so there. It’s time to celebrate your birthday for real.”
Lidia just rolls her eyes, but I don’t even bother doing that much. What’s the point?
At first, I hated the idea of being married off to some guy I barely knew, but lately, I’ve begun to crave it.
At least that way, I’d be mistress of my own house.
That’s bound to be better than being a prisoner in my father’s house.
Although there’s always something to be said for sticking with the Devil you know…
but I’m well on my way to being stuck here forever, a spinster forever, loveless forever.
“What? Why are you both so quiet?” Chiara asks in her excited voice, looking at us with her green eyes very wide like we’re being silly.
“Come on, Chiara, quit dreaming,” I say and walk over to my closet. “We’re no more going to the Sphere tonight than I’m getting engaged tonight.”
I run my hand over the clothes hanging in there.
Pretty much every piece of clothing I own costs over a thousand dollars on its own and I don’t think I’ve worn half of the stuff in here.
I have tons more pretty dresses back home in New York City.
I absolutely do not need to do any more shopping.
But that’s more or less all we’re allowed to do in terms of going out.
School, the mall, dinners, lunches and sometimes the movies.
Always trailed by at least three bodyguards who have orders to chase away anyone who so much as looks at any of us for a second too long.
And by chase, I don’t mean anything as nice as telling them to move on. No, I mean broken bones and blood.
I pull out a floor-length golden maxi dress that shimmers like crystal in the sun and is tight enough to hug all my curves even though it covers me from head to toe. It goes very nicely with my honey-colored hair and amber eyes, and it will shimmer very nicely under the mall’s artificial lights.
“That’s exactly what you’re wearing tonight,” Chiara says, standing behind my shoulder and admiring the dress with me in the mirror on the closet door.
“There’s no way we’re going anywhere,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. I have a plan.”
Her plans usually get us caught before we even begin to execute them. Her plans are also the reason we now have three bodyguards instead of one, although that could have something to do with the Bratva too.
“Come on, Gia, stop being so negative,” Chiara says. “You deserve to have some fun. What do you have to lose, anyway?”
Not much. I’m already doomed to wither away behind the walls of one of my father’s many mansions or apartments or beach houses and everything in between. I’ll never get married. No one will ever have me. So why the hell do I have to be careful anymore?
“OK, what’s your plan?” I ask, grinning at my sister in the mirror. She grins even wider, while in the distance, by the window, Lidia rolls her eyes again. “You guys are insane.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But if that’s true, I might as well start doing insane things to prove it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Chiara says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I’ve already set the wheels in motion. We’re leaving for the city in an hour, so get ready.”
Lidia groans. “Come on, do we really want to put Mom and Dad through more grief right now?”
It’s a valid point.
But Chiara shakes her head. “They’ll never know we’re gone. And we deserve to have some fun once in a while, don’t we? Besides, we’re the three cursed sisters. Who’s gonna mess with us?”
I wish she hadn’t brought that up, and I think she does too. There’s a heaviness in the room now that wasn’t there before, and everything just seems so pointless again.
The one important thing a woman in our world can achieve is a good marriage and the three of us…
we’re not even gonna get that much the way things are going.
We’re just gonna waste away in beautiful houses, changing in and out of beautiful clothes that cost about the same as it costs to feed a five-person family for a month.
“You’re exaggerating, but fine,” Lidia relents. “I haven’t been dancing in ages.”
It’s true. The last time we snuck out was before all this trouble with the Bratva started. Though Lidia actually prefers to stay home and read. But Chiara and I have also been very good since our brother was killed. But it is my birthday, and I deserve to have some fun too…
“Me either,” I say. “Let’s do it!”
It feels a little like I’ve just spoken my famous last words. But that’s just my inner good girl fretting—the one that’s always done exactly what was expected of her and didn’t get a whole lot in return.
I’d asked my dad for a small b-day celebration with just family, but he insisted on this monstrous thing. So going out tonight will be my gift to myself… a night away from all his expectations of me, and all the ways I’ve failed him.