Chapter 1
Vivi
SWIMMING SIX MILES brought about shaking limbs and tattered lungs, but still, my mind raced as I dragged myself from the ocean.
I panted, sweat mingling with saltwater sluicing from my hair and down my face.
A breeze popped goosebumps along my skin, forcing my direction to shift toward the house.
It was as much of a prison as it was paradise.
I contemplated another swim, exhausting myself until I couldn’t walk.
I’d sleep under the half-moon and stars, but a rumbling cloud rolled in to dash those dreams.
Home didn’t bring much privacy, not when there were a hundred people on the compound at any given time.
Tonight was no different, but for a static buzz in the air that brought lumps on top of the remaining goosebumps.
Two of my father’s guards passed me on the way to my room.
I snickered at their silly use of sunglasses even as evening gave way to night, but they passed as if I were invisible. And I was.
I was different from all of them. We were different—my mother and me. A dual of contrast against a family of fallen angels. And Mama had married the devil himself.
Where Vigo was dark, Simone was light. White hair, gray irises—a beautiful soul. I was lost somewhere in between. Call me purgatory—a place for those who suffer. Sin weighed heavily on my shoulders and under my eyes in shadowy smudges of guilt. I couldn’t sleep knowing what was to come.
My eighteenth birthday and a making ceremony. The sinister celebration where men became monsters by choice.
I shuddered as I changed in my suite, then left quickly to keep my thoughts from tumbling down that dark rabbit hole. In the foyer, I found Rosy scolding Zeta about a stain on the rug. The two women had worked for Father since I was in diapers, and they’d argued for just as long.
Thunder boomed overhead, drowning out the chorus of commands chasing me into the kitchen. Francesca, our housekeeper, hovered over a pot of sauce steaming on the stove.
“Rosy is barking orders again,” I warned.
“Eh, Zeta deserves the scolding. Lazy, that one. She should’ve been done an hour ago.” She pinched in spice, stirred, and tasted the Ragù alla Bolognese. “Perfetta.”
I snatched a piece of bread from her freshly sliced stack. “Can I help?”
“With the food?” The back of her hand landed on her forehead, aghast I would make such a suggestion. “Mia cara, abbi un po' di compassione per la tua famiglia. (My dear, have some compassion on your family.)”
“You can teach me to cook,” I suggested, waving the scent of my youth into my nose. Garlic and oregano were likely the only perfume I’d ever wear.
“Education on that scale will take a full five years, and I have no time to start now. We’re feeding hundreds, Vivienne, and dinner must be eccellente. Now go.” She shooed me. “Find something to do.”
I laughed, then stuffed my mouth full of Focaccia as I went on my way.
For me, if I wasn’t swimming or working at the mission, I walked.
Prowled, really—snuck around to see how far I could get before I was caught by a guard.
The rain kept me inside, and after a time in Mama’s conservatory where water bled over the clear glass dome, I found myself in the den—a library full of books that were beyond my skill level.
But I didn’t care for the literature, instead staring at the bright white line of demarcation under a bookcase.
Tempted by the forbidden, I slid through what was really the entrance to the catacombs, an underground river of tunnels leading to Father’s office and the “conference room” used for family meetings.
Which was subterfuge for business dealings—mafia business.
I passed the closed doors, a strange peacefulness firing up my pulse.
It was too quiet. Too empty, but the unknown lured me down the bleached halls despite the risk.
Being careful to sidestep security when they rounded, I didn’t realize where I was until my eldest brother’s sharp bark stopped me dead.
“Where the fuck did he come from?” Thwack. A long, low moan followed the hit.
The cellar. Good God almighty. I rushed the sign of the cross, praying I could backtrack, but the shadow of a guard moved into place at the break in the hall from where I’d just come. I was trapped unless I wanted to give up my trespass.
“I-I don’t know what the fuck you’re talk-talking about.”
“What’d ya think? You believe this asino? Huh?” A second voice confirmed that two Cabellos were with the prisoner.
“He’s lying,” came Stefano’s controlled retort, and a shiver prickled down my spine.
“Gesù Cristo in cielo, per favore aiutalo. (Jesus Christ in heaven, please help him.)” My whisper preceded another whoosh, thud, and moan.
“No man is a ghost,” Stefano growled in anger. “Yet this bastardo shows up one day fully grown. A national hero with no past but for his service to the nation. Does that make sense to you, Agent?”
Agent? I squeezed my eyes shut, then peeked around the corner to find dusty floors and archaic torture devices hanging from stone walls. Stefano and his goon hovered over a bleeding man, slouched and tied to a chair. I withdrew as a hot spike of fear tore through my blood, pounding in my ears.
“Who is he?”
“No one.”
Whack. Hiss. A dark chuckle.
“I’ve got all night, Earl. How about you?
You have enough stamina to keep going, or you want another fucking hamburger to fill out your middle?
Pezzo grasso di spazzatura, sporcizia. (Fat piece of trash, filth).
If you’re going to work for the Cabellos, you’ve got to give us the information, and then we’ll be friends. See? Like family.”
Minutes passed with each blow and my harsh breath. Disgust pulsed hot and heavy in my chest, drowning out the screams.
“The ghost is clean,” the prisoner moaned for the tenth time. “That guy isn’t part of the business.”
“Who is he?”
“A preacher’s kid.”
“Cazzate. (Bullshit.)”
“I swear. I swear on my wife’s life, and I love her. I swear to God I do,” he panted. “The ghost fell out of sorts with his folks and the church, so he enlisted early. He made a SEAL team ‘cause he was good with a gun, and lived without a conscience—you know, he did their dirty work.”
They kept at him. No matter how many times he cried, torture followed, and he gave the same information. Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it down with the only plan I had. The guy was a filthy fed. He was also a husband to someone, and if I didn’t intervene, he’d be lost.
I stepped into the room. Three pairs of eyes pinned me to the floor where I stood. The cruel darkness of the underworld stained each iris; even the two nearly swollen shut.
Thick tension ate away at the air. Stefano dropped a bloodied, stubby bat, then rolled the sleeves of his black dress shirt past his elbows. The color hid the red splatters littering the rest of the scene, including Nikki. His best friend forever was Dexter, with a plastic bib covering his torso.
Acid churned in my stomach.
“Aw, Viv. You shouldn’t have come.”
I heard Nikki’s regret, but I saw Stefano’s fury in his hard stare. The kind that told me I was in as much trouble as the dirty fed.
He looked at me, his icy gaze never leaving mine, while he pulled a pistol from behind him. “Say goodbye, Earl,” he growled, pointed, and…
Pop.
I jerked, as did Earl, and then everything went silent. My breath. My heart. Everything but for the fed’s blood as it met the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I gaped. Stefano’s sinister eyes studied me as he unscrewed his silencer before replacing his gun where it came from. The Focaccia came up, landing in a splatter just feet away from the red pool.
“Gross, Viv.” Nikki scrunched his face like my vomit was worse than the corpse, but he wasn’t deterred for long. “Want another one, boss?”
“Nah,” Stefano said. “Two’s enough. We got what we need.” He motioned to the slumped body and my pile of puke. “Clean up this filth. I have my own shit to manage.”
A chill shot down my spine as he stepped forward without a flicker of emotion, his soulless gaze rooting me in place.
Too bad his palm did not. It made contact with my cheek in a blistering zing, whipping my head so violently that my brain rattled.
My ears rang, drowning out a more terrifying threat than his fist. “Father will want to know about this.”
?
STEFANO WAS AN animal. Yet he treated me like one, clutching my nape to hold me in place.
I notched my chin up to show I wasn’t afraid while Father contemplated the two of us.
So did my mother, her hands tangling into a knot by her stomach.
Why couldn’t I stay out of trouble, for Mama at least?
I didn’t care for my own safety, but I absolutely did for hers.
And my defiance usually led to her running interference on my behalf. Shame bled into my resolve.
Vigo’s eyes were clear glass and stone cold, so cold that the temperature in his office dropped to single digits. “What did she hear?”
“Nothing of importance.” Stefano shrugged, tossing me forward, as if I were a ragdoll. I landed at Father’s feet, my palms rasping against the rug in a stinging burn.
He nodded, dismissing his son only for his attention to center on his daughter. Disgust curled his lip, and the air went glacial like biting ice cubes on wet skin.
“You give her too much freedom.” His cool tone was directed at me but meant for Mama.
“Vivienne is a smart girl,” she replied, just as calm. “She doesn’t need to see the proof to understand your business. She’s known of the cellar and who you’ve brought to it long before tonight.”
His arm shot out, his fingers catching her long ponytail. “This is why she must be managed.”
Father was tall, handsome, and leeching, and I wanted to leap up to remove the hand wrapping her hair around his wrist—once—twice—and to ease the tension on her craning neck.
But her eyes found mine for the shortest moment—a quick plea to keep me still.
So, I stayed, ready to intervene with the clenched fist at my side.
“She’s just a girl.”
“A woman, now,” he said, kissing the throat he’d pulled taut in anger. “Ready to wed.”
I froze, fear crawling along my skin. The trajectory of my future hung in the balance, and there was nothing I could do to sway my father’s decision. He owned me.
The mob bred girls like mules. We were work horses, bartered off to the highest bidder. A token to bring other families under the fold of the capo. Eighteen meant ready. Eighteen equaled legal. Eighteen said sold.
“By the mafia’s standards, yes,” she agreed. “But to the outside world, no. She’s a baby, Vigo.”
“At this age, you were already mine for a year.”
“I don’t want to argue. I only want Vivi to have time to choose her own future.” She took his face in her palms.
My stomach roiled.
“What do you want from me to grant this wish?” she asked.
He scoffed. “This isn’t a wish, it’s a chain around my ankle.”
“She’s your daughter.”
“She’s my burden, as much as you are my light. Colomba, be reasonable. You can see the trouble caused by her meddling. Look at her. Do you believe any man would freely ask for such a mous—”
“Stop this,” she hissed.
“I will not! Vivienne must marry, and I will choose a husband who will suit her and la nostra famiglia (our family). Someone who will bring her stubborn streak to heel. She’s a nuisance that must be tamed.”
“Women may not always have a choice, but we have secrets and a voice. Unless you plan to silence that too?”
Vigo was the moon, ice cold and ever present in the dark, but not always seen. Sympathy skipped his gene pool, except with Mama. Her ability to tame his beast gave me hope, but in that moment, he was carved from stone.
“Don’t test my patience, Simone.” His tone was gentle, but anger flashed like lightning in his eyes. The longer he held her, the greater the tense silence that reigned over us. We were prisoners of the truth shadowing our lives. “The business always comes first.”
The mafia always won. Even over family. But Mama just brushed a slash of hair from his forehead, smiling while his fingers tightened. “And what of you, mio marito? Are you not my number one priority?”
His hands moved to Mama’s waist, drawing her into his body. But his words were directed at me. “Get out.”
“I won’t,” I said, climbing to my feet, ready to fight.
“Get out and don’t return unless you are summoned by me.” He turned, finally giving me his eyes. Cold. Unforgiving. Deadly. Dread tightened my lungs, burning for oxygen and freedom from his control. “And if I find you here again, it won’t be you who suffers the consequences. Do you understand?”
I did. With no other choice but to keep Mama safe, I lunged for the door, fearing with every step what I left her to face alone.
A monster.