Chapter One
Caterina
I CLUTCH MY bouquet of calla lilies in sweaty hands, my stomach in knots.
I’m in full bridal meringue, standing before the altar in a flouncy strapless gown of white silk, with a long gauzy veil held in place by a jewelled diadem.
My father was grudging, saying at least I look the part, not that I care what he thinks.
Myself, I hate it. I hate all of it. I’ve never been the good, quiet Salvatore princess he wanted me to be. I’m too argumentative, too hot-tempered, too impulsive, and I hate being told what to do, all of which are terrible flaws in a daughter, according to my father.
But today is my wedding day and I have a part to play, no matter how much I hate it. As my father has impressed on me many times, I have to make up for the deaths of my mother and brother somehow, and all of this is for the good of the family.
The Roman cathedral where the marriage is taking place is full of people. My own family, the Salvatores, but also the families of our allies and naturally the family of my groom, Carlo Bianchi.
Our union was arranged years ago, by my father and Carlo’s, while I was still under-age, and for the longest time I forgot I was Dad’s most valuable pawn in his games of power. I was too busy completing my history degree via an online university and thinking about getting a job.
But naturally my father had other ideas.
It was time I was married, he told me. Our hated enemy, the Wolf of Sicily, aka Vincenzo Argenti, head of the Argenti family, was growing ever more powerful and if we wanted to survive we had to ally with as many other families as we could. Marriage being the best way to do that.
I’ve got nothing against my groom, Carlo, but I barely know him and I suspect he feels the same about me.
We both have no choice, though. In our families, in the cosa nostra, duty comes first and refusal is not an option.
This is the way it’s always been and my personal feelings about it matter not at all.
Behind me, in the pews, I hear people shuffle and whisper then quieten.
My stomach tightens as the priest looks at me.
He can probably see how white I am behind my veil, but there’s nothing he can do for me.
There’s nothing anyone can do for me. My family, the Salvatores, were powerful once, but years ago, when I was a child, my mother and older brother were killed in an Argenti hit that left my father badly injured.
It was a blow against our family that we’ve been trying to recover from ever since, and consequently that meant finding allies however and wherever we could.
Being seen to be weak is not something we can afford, not if we want to survive.
I did try to get out of the marriage. In fact, I’ve spent the last month arguing with Dad about the necessity of it, but he insisted. The old ways of bonding allies, by blood, were the strongest and I would do this for the family whether I liked it or not. Dad’s not big on choices.
Going against the head of the family isn’t done, especially if you’re a woman and the only child left. And most especially when your father has impressed upon you that if you don’t do this, the deaths of your mother and brother would have been for nothing.
The priest intones the beginning of the ceremony and I feel the combined attention of thousands of eyes on me. A family wedding is always a big deal.
Carlo shifts on his feet—he’s as excited as I am about this marriage, which is not at all—but he, at least, is present in the moment.
I, on the other hand, am mourning the ending of my freedom, since once I’m his wife, I’ll be his property.
I’ll be denied a career. My only value is my name and the protection it brings the Bianchis.
Oh yes, I’ll also be an acceptable vessel for children, because how else to breed the next generation of family soldiers?
This was never the life I wanted—I wanted to study more, and maybe teach or get a job in a museum—but it’s the life I was born into and I have no choice.
The silver lining is that at least as Carlo’s wife I’ll be out of my father’s house in Rome, where I’m guarded and protected like a princess out of a fairy tale.
Being the sole remaining child of a family is dangerous, since my destruction would also ensure the destruction of the Salvatore family.
Another reason I can’t refuse my duty. I can’t be responsible for the death of the Salvatores, that’s a burden too heavy to bear, especially when I’m already carrying the deaths of my mother and brother.
All I can do is marry Carlo and hope against hope that he’ll allow me some semblance of freedom, at least as much freedom as the wife of one of the cosa nostra families can have. Ha.
I stare down at my feet in my white wedding slippers, trying to calm the frantic beat of my heart.
It’ll be okay, I tell myself. Being married to Carlo won’t be so bad.
It’ll make my father happy, ensure our family’s survival, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to build some kind of life for myself that isn’t just shopping and lunching, minding children and drinking cocktails with the other wives. I mean, really, it could be worse.
Except no matter how many times I tell myself that, I know it won’t be okay, and the dread sits heavy and cold in my gut.
Shopping and drinking cocktails is all very well, but the risk of death is ever-present.
You’ll always be a target and so will your children, and that’s not the kind of life I want for either myself or any kids I have.
To be always looking over your shoulder in case of car bombs or ambushes, or any one of the thousands of ways you can die.
I’m in the middle of these depressing thoughts and spiralling, when I hear more shuffling and whispering behind me. The priest is still speaking but gradually he slows down and stops, a frown appearing on his face.
I glance at Carlo, who is also looking over his shoulder and frowning, so I do too, turning to see what or who is creating all the fuss. And just as I do, the big double doors of the cathedral burst open and suddenly the entire nave is full of men carrying guns.
Chaos erupts. There are screams and shouts, people leaping up from the pews and calling for bodyguards, weapons being drawn, but a man is striding down the aisle. He’s dressed in black, moving with a panther’s grace, an apex predator in a room full of prey.
Everything about him is dark, including the wave of violent energy that seems to emanate from him. He’s very tall, with black hair and sharp, sculpted features. Ink-black brows. A hard jaw. And eyes that burn like molten silver.
Those eyes are looking nowhere except straight at me.
I freeze, rooted to the spot as a wave of pure fear washes through me.
I know him. Everyone in the entire room knows him.
It’s the Sicilian Wolf himself, Vincenzo Argenti, and he’s been slowly but surely amassing power and collecting allies for years.
I’ve overheard Dad say that the Wolf wants all the families under his thumb and he’ll stop at nothing to do that, though no one knows the truth for sure.
What is true that is that anyone who resists him ends up dead.
He’s also the man who murdered my mother, Claudia, and my brother, Alessio.
‘Nobody move,’ the Sicilian Wolf says to the cathedral at large, his dark, deep voice echoing in the vaulted space. ‘No one wants a bloodbath in a church. Though I assure you, if anyone lifts so much as a finger, I will not hesitate to start one.’
His men are everywhere, standing sentinel around the walls, semi-automatics pointed at the gathered wedding guests.
I have no idea how they managed to get past the heavy security my father personally oversaw, but they have.
Then again, I’ve heard all the stories about Vincenzo Argenti, how he can walk through walls and turn invisible at will, so who knows?
Perhaps he and his men did exactly that.
A deafening silence has fallen as he strolls calmly towards me, ignoring Carlo, the priest and the rest of the gathered guests as if they don’t exist.
‘Caterina Salvatore,’ he drawls, my name rolling off his tongue like fine wine. There’s a rough timbre to his voice and a chill that ices my blood. ‘A pretty name. But I think Caterina Argenti is even prettier.’
Caterina Argenti? What is he even talking about?
My thoughts reel about drunkenly then reality slowly adjusts itself.
Vincenzo Argenti, the demon in the dark from the night Mama and Alessio died, is here, at my wedding.
I remember him. He was with all the men with guns who came into our house, and he shoved me into a closet and locked the door.
Then I heard the gunshots outside that killed my family. I was five.
To this day I don’t know why he didn’t kill me along with Mama and Alessio, but I was shut in that closet for a long time until someone found me.
For years afterwards, I used to have nightmares about that closet, about him, and now he’s here, holding up my wedding at gunpoint.
Is he back to finish the job? To wipe out the Salvatores once and for all?
Gun me down in front of the altar and then kill all the guests too?
Beside me Carlos makes a soft sound, then backs away rapidly. The priest begins to say something, but the Wolf lifts one long-fingered, commanding hand and the priest decides not to say something after all.
My bouquet of calla lilies falls out of my nerveless fingers and onto the stone floor, scattering petals everywhere.
The Wolf doesn’t hesitate, walking straight up to me.
Then he extends a hand. ‘Shall we?’ His silver eyes glitter and even the dusting of white at his temples doesn’t detract from the impact of his physical presence.
He’s more frightening than anyone I have ever met, and I want to close my eyes, shut him out of my field of vision, pretend he’s not there.
But he is there. He most definitely is.
‘To be clear,’ he goes on, steel in the words. ‘That was not a request. That was an order.’
I’m too shocked to move, but this is happening, and slowly it penetrates what exactly ‘this’ is. His men are merely standing guard, not firing into the crowd, and he himself looks to be unarmed. He’s certainly not pointing a weapon in my direction. Which means…
It’s not a hit. It’s a kidnapping. And he’s kidnapping me.
When I don’t move immediately, he makes a gesture and abruptly two gunmen appear beside me as Carlo and the priest back frantically away. My father is on his feet and so are his allies and they’re all beginning to shout.
‘Silence!’ the Wolf thunders and a deathly quiet falls in the cathedral. He’s still looking directly at me.
And deep down inside me, a small flicker of anger ignites.
I already didn’t want to be here, and now the man of my nightmares is standing right there, making this terrible day even more terrible, and ordering me to do his bidding at gunpoint.
I’ve been ordered around by men my entire life and right now, right here, is the last straw.
I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being my father’s pawn in his relentless quest for allies.
I’m tired of having my duty explained to me every goddamn day.
I’m tired of having the deaths of Mama and Alessio flung in my face and used to manipulate me.
Tired of never having choices of my own.
So I don’t move, merely lifting my chin instead, because at this point, I have nothing left to lose. ‘So you’re kidnapping me? Is that it?’
‘You catch on quick.’
‘Well,’ I say, scraping together the dregs of my courage and lifting my chin even higher. ‘Respectfully, I decline.’
His eyes glitter, and one side of his cruel mouth curves. ‘Respectfully or otherwise, your consent is not required.’ He lifts his hand again and the man beside me shoulders his gun, puts his hands on my waist.
I tense, cold with fear but unwilling to let the Wolf see that.
‘I see,’ I say, forcing as much disdain as I can into my voice.
‘Not strong enough to lift me yourself? Or are you not man enough? Which is it?’ Either way, I’m going to be some man’s property, so I might as well make it as hard for this particular man as possible.
Vincenzo Argenti’s smile doesn’t waver, but something leaps in his sharp silver eyes and it looks like amusement. ‘Interesting,’ he murmurs. ‘Well, I’ve never been one to resist a challenge.’
Then before I can move, he motions his soldier aside, puts his own hands on my waist, before hauling me up and over his shoulder. Then he turns around and stalks out of the church, with me screaming obscenities in his ear.