Chapter 1
ONE
Adrian
29 Years Old
T he girl has blue hair.
It makes me smile as I watch the interaction over the rim of my cognac glass, trying to hide my reaction from her brother — the terror of New Orleans. She walked into his house with a grin on her face, reveling in her act of defiance. Marcus, on the other hand, has waves of anger rolling off him, so palpable it silences the whole room. The whole room being his Uncle Damien, his mother, and myself. Our other guests have yet to arrive, but I can tell by the looks on their faces that there’s no time to fix the blue hair debacle before they get here.
She’s stunning. Even with the blue hair. I’ve heard about the younger Ricci girl; I even drafted her marriage contract, but this is the first time I’ve seen her. I try my best not to let my eyes linger, but it’s hard to take my gaze from her heart-shaped face with her dark eyes and creamy skin. Her hair is still dark at the roots but fades into a teal-blue color as it hangs off her shoulders in long waves. Suddenly, I have an itch to wrap those locks in my fist and tug back. I wonder what the column of her throat would look like, if those eyes would still be so sassy once I had her at my mercy.
I shake the thoughts from my brain. She’s not mine. I know better than anyone that she’s meant to marry someone else.
Caterina, the mother of the two siblings who are currently engaging in a staring contest, drops her head into her palms. I think she might cry, but then she looks up, steadying herself. “A dress. We can get her changed into a dress,” she says to Marcus, as if a dress might suddenly change the color of her hair.
Marcus turns to his mother, nostrils flaring and jaw tight. “You think that’ll fix this?” He waves his hand over his sister like the whole thing is broken. Damaged beyond repair.
It’s just a little blue hair.
But I don’t say that.
I’ve only been working with this family for a year now, and I’m playing the long con here. Pissing off my boss by telling him his sister doesn’t look bad with the teal painting her head will only make him angrier, and I’ve seen Marcus when his temper explodes. It normally ends with a body on the floor.
“No…” Now Caterina looks frazzled as she tries to talk her way back. “But it might distract from it.”
For a moment, I think Marcus is going to lay a hand on his own mother, something that makes my blood boil. My mother is long gone, barely in my life for a few years before she passed, but my father taught me at a young age never to hit a woman.
“I’m not marrying him,” Madi bites out with venom, still holding strong despite the look of rage on her brother’s face. I want to laugh again, but I refrain. So much sass for such a little thing, who’s way out of her depth.
Marcus takes two steps until he’s in her face, his head hovering above hers too close. I have to grip my fingers around my glass to keep from stepping in. I don’t like watching him abuse women, and I have a feeling Madi is about to be on the bad side of his temper.
“You’re fucking lucky Rafe Bianchi is about to walk through that door, or else I would make sure you feel every second of the consequences for your actions, you stupid little bitch.”
Madi doesn’t flinch. Her only reaction is the slow lifting of her fingertips to delicately wipe away the bits of spit that landed on her face during her brother’s outburst.
“Do it,” she taunts, making my stomach drop. I know damn well that Marcus doesn’t give empty threats. I’ve watched him kill men for less and this little girl is antagonizing him.
“Madi, let’s get you changed.” I give Caterina credit for trying to step in, but before she can get an arm around Madi, her son flings his, backhanding her across the face. She stumbles on her heels but grabs onto the wall to steady herself before she falls. Her hand covers her face, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry, but somebody was going to get hit tonight. Marcus doesn’t know how to quell his violent tendencies, and one day, it’s going to get him killed.
“Go upstairs, put a fucking dress on, and then come back now here. I don’t want to hear another fucking word from your mouth tonight. Capiche?”
Madi doesn’t speak. Doesn’t agree. Doesn’t give him an inkling that she might behave tonight.
“Now!” he roars at her. Only then does she move. Going to the stairs of the large mansion and trudging up them one by one.
“Go with her and make sure she doesn’t make a fool of this family any more than she already has,” Marcus growls at his mother, who quickly rushes to the stairs, following her daughter.
I take another sip of my cognac. This family is fucked up.
It’s not that I thought they’d be normal. I knew they were powerful, but I didn’t think this was going to be a family full of love. Not with the bodies they leave in their wake.
Marcus inhales a breath once the women are gone, turning to the table where Damien and I are sitting. “Do you have the paperwork drawn up?”
I lift the contract that’s currently covered in a manila folder. “Yes.”
“And everything we discussed is outlined in there?” Marcus slumps into a seat across from me like he’s exhausted from screaming at his family for the last five minutes. Damien pours him a glass of cognac, and he shoots the whole thing back, wiping his lips on the back of his hand.
“Yes,” I say again. He’s selling off his sister’s hand in marriage for some smuggling routes and a cocaine connection. What the contract doesn’t spell out is how his connection to the Bianchis, one of the five New York famiglias is worth more than his sister’s life or happiness. If he wants to solidify his power in this city, having a New York backing is worth every penny.
“Good. Finally, someone who’s not a fuckup,” he says, refilling his glass. Pleasing Marcus has been easy since I figured out all his ticks. It was simple enough to sell my services to him since he killed his last lawyer out of anger. He was in need of someone to keep his men out of prison and to handle all his legal matters — like selling his sister to the New York mafia. My Italian heritage might have helped seal the deal. These men like to keep everyone in the family pure blood. An antiquated notion. But I’m not here to get them into the 21 st century.
I want to burn their kingdom now.
Revenge is a dish best served cold and all that. So I’m taking my time. Weaseling my way into his good graces so I can crumble his empire, brick by bloody brick.
Madi makes her reentrance known. Stomping her heels down each stair. All three of our heads lift to follow her. She’s wearing a navy-blue dress that hugs all her curves, making her look sexy as hell. But the neckline is high, the sleeves are long, and the bottom hits just above her knees — making the dress seem less revealing. The color plays nicely off her new teal locks, the subtle contrast of the two colors pairing well. It’s still bright and too improper for what Marcus wants, but it looks better than when she walked in wearing ripped jeans and a top that exposed her stomach.
Marcus growls some form of approval and gestures for his sister to come to him. “Sit here,” he demands. “And keep your mouth fucking shut.”
Saluting her brother is another act of sass, and I see the way Marcus’s face pinches. The doorbell ringing is the only thing that saves the girl as she slumps into the seat and crosses her arms over her chest.
Caterina opens the door, greeting our guests before scurrying into her corner to not be seen or heard. I make a mental note that she’s afraid of her own son.
“Rafe.” Marcus extends his hand to shake the man’s. “Thank you for coming.”
Rafe Bianchi doesn’t look amused or impressed. There’s a stoic look on his face as he enters Marcus’s family mansion, with two men stepping in behind him.
“Where’s the girl?” he asks, giving Marcus no greeting. No hellos, no niceties. Straight to business. Expected, since this meeting was set up as a finality. Rafe wanted to see what he was buying before signing the final contract and setting a wedding date. This is just a simple transaction. It doesn’t matter that the object involved is a living, breathing human.
Not that I care about her.
I want to burn her family to the ground, her included. So what does it matter to me if she’s forced to marry some asshole from New York?
“Here’s my sister.” Marcus leads him over to where Madi is sitting, gesturing for her to get up. She does so begrudgingly, still holding her arms across her chest. I can see Caterina wincing in the corner, the look on her face screaming please behave. But I don’t think she raised this girl to behave. I’m not sure Madi even knows what the word means.
Marcus’s face tightens as he tries to push down his rage at how she’s acting. “This is my sister, Madalena,” he says.
Rafe looks her over, his eyes wandering every inch of her skin. That shouldn’t bother me. She’s not mine. I don’t know how many times I have to repeat that phrase to myself to get through the night, but it’s feeling like a mantra.
She’s not mine.
She’s not mine.
She’s not mine.
I can’t care about the silly girl with blue hair who’s standing in front of me. I have bigger things to be worried about. Like worming my way into Marcus’s good graces so I can get all the information I need to take his family down. The legal way, of course. I’m not a gangster like him. Like this family.
I clench my fist as Rafe eyes the girl skeptically.
“Her hair is blue.” It’s a monotone assessment.
“We can fix that,” Marcus responds immediately.
“Then why didn’t you?” Rafe eyes Marcus. The man holds all the power in this room. Marcus might be in charge, but everyone knows it’s only because Junior Costello, the rightful heir, was murdered and his son, Sam, was put in jail for his death and denied bond. After his grandfather, Carmine Senior, died, this family has been split down the middle, each vying for a side. Junior and Sam leading half the family, Marcus the other. He thinks this deal will solidify his place in the family hierarchy, and who are we to stop him? There’s a plan running through that man’s head, and he sees it leading him to victory, no matter how many bodies will forge his path.
“It will be taken care of.”
Rafe turns his head away from Marcus and back to his sister. “Is she pure?” he asks while looking at her, but the question isn’t directed at the girl.
She scoffs loudly. “No,” she answers, right as her brother says, “Yes.”
Everyone in the room freezes. That one simple, archaic question has the ability to change the outcome of this deal entirely.
“She’s lying,” Marcus says, trying to fix things.
Rafe shakes his head. “She says she’s not. I wouldn’t have come down here if I’d known you were selling me a whore.”
“Fuck you!” Madi spits out, jumping from her seat as all heads turn to her. Damien quickly grabs the back of her dress, yanking her into her seat and hissing for her to be quiet.
It’s a long moment of silence before Rafe speaks again. “The deal’s off.”
Anger glows in Marcus’s gaze as he looks at his sister, then he turns quickly, following Rafe, who’s on his way out of the house.
“She’s not serious!” he shouts. “She’s just rebelling. We can take care of this.”
Rafe turns on his heel, stopping in Marcus’s face. “I don’t have any desire to train your rebellious sister. You promised me a wife.” He looks at Madi, standing fiercely with her blue hair and a scowl etched across her face. “ That is not a wife. We’re done here.”
The door slams behind the New York boss and his men, and suddenly the house is launched into another bout of silence. There’s nothing but the sound of our breathing filling the air before Marcus flings himself at Madi.
“You stupid fucking whore!” he shouts, his hand wrapping around her throat. She claws at him as their mother screams, and Damien leaps from his chair, trying uselessly to pull his nephew off his niece.
“I’ll marry her.” I don’t know why I say it. The declaration leaves my mouth without my brain approving of the sentence.
The house is silent again. All four heads turning to look at me.
“What?” Marcus asks, his voice low and gruff.
“I’ll marry her,” I repeat.
“And why would I agree to that?” Marcus releases the girl, and she slumps back into the chair, her hands coming to her red throat as her eyes shoot daggers at me. She’s not the least bit grateful that I saved her from being strangled. Who knows when her brother would have stopped. If he would have stopped.
“Once the word is out that Rafe Bianchi called off the wedding because she’s an unfit bride and lacking her virginity — no one will want her. He said it himself; she needs training. I, on the other hand, don’t mind an untrained bride. Sounds like a challenge to me. You’ll get the girl off your hands and save your reputation. Not to mention, my legal services.”
Marcus runs his fingers over his chin, thinking through my offer.
“And what do you get out of this?” he asks.
Better access to this family while I plot your downfall. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I say, “I’ll be part of the family.”
Marcus must like my answer, because he smiles, turning to his sister. “Meet your new husband, Madi.”
When the little blue-haired vixen looks up at me, there’s nothing but disdain simmering behind those brown orbs.
And I can’t help but think: she’s mine.