Chapter 1
MARA
The first thing I notice is the sweat.
No matter how much I try to escape, my mind drags me back. Back to that damn cold room and the metallic taste of my own blood. My screams bouncing off the walls.
The pink sheets cling to me, damp from yet another nightmare. My throat tightens, my breath snagging instead of flowing.
It was just a nightmare.
I tell myself that every morning. I still don’t believe it.
Pushing the damp strands off my forehead, I tie my hair up. Time to forget. Time to pretend.
If they ever find out how close I am to cracking, all I’ll ever get is pity. I don’t want anyone’s pity, let alone my own family’s. I’d rather swallow every jagged memory than let anyone think of me as weak, someone who needs to be shielded.
But as I sit up, the reminder of last night’s nightmare lingers. The feeling of her fingers buried in my hair, drawing blood, is embedded into my skin, branding me. Just the thought of her causes a sense of panic that wants to rip from my throat.
It’s been a year since Valentina, my cousin Alessia, and I were taken by Helen.
I tell myself I’m fine. That it’s just another morning.
But when I glance in the mirror, the girl staring back at me has shadows under her eyes and bruises only she can see.
My hands shake, and I choke back the urge to retch in my own room.
Pull yourself together, Mara!
This is not the time for a panic attack.
Pulling on my strawberry tank top, I open my bedroom door and move into the hallway.
My feet pad against the cool marble floor while two guards stand at the end of the hallway, their faces cold and unwavering.
The blood rushes in my ears as I pass them and head down the winding staircase.
Ma’s in the kitchen, the soft tune she’s humming drifting with the smell of waffles that makes my mouth water.
“Morning, Ma,” I say as I walk in.
She’s by the brass-colored stove, stirring what looks to be cranberry sauce. “Morning, bella. There’s waffles with cream and strawberries on the kitchen island for you.”
I press a kiss to her cheek.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to,” I tell her, sliding onto one of the steel barstools.
The strawberries are cut into hearts, and the corners of my mouth pull into a smile that feels less mechanical than most days. If they know how broken I truly am, they will send me away. I will be treated as a liability, not a human.
Ma has always made us cute little fruit cutouts in an effort to convince us to eat them. Matteo wasn’t amused, but he always ate the food in front of him. Ma wasn’t trying to get him to eat the fruit; it was me and Lucio who were the real pains.
She wipes her hand over the apron she’s wearing and says, “I know I didn’t have to, but no matter what, you’ll always be my little baby. I just want to see you happy.”
I swallow a bite of the waffle as the guilt washes over me. I’ve tried to hide the anxiety that’s been eating at me, but I can’t hide the night terrors that I’ve been having. Especially not when I wake up screaming and sweating like I’ve run a marathon.
“Right,” I say, my tone clipped. “Well, I’m going out today. I’m going to go shopping before heading over to Valentina and Emiliano’s apartment.”
Ma eyes me as if she’s about to say something, but she shakes her head. “Babysitting Bianca?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“Do you want to?”
Since Pop’s death three years ago, Ma has been lonely. She might not show it, but I see the way her eyes are puffy sometimes. She misses him. We all miss him.
“I’ll make snacks,” she offers, beaming at me.
I shake my head at the way her face lights up. Ma’s enthusiasm always brightens my day. She finds the silver lining in everything.
After breakfast, I head back to my room to get changed.
Putting my hair up in a slick ponytail, I adjust the pink bowtie that holds my hair together.
I step back and take in my outfit: black tights, 1995 Medusa Versace black minidress, and a gold handbag.
Some would say it’s too much, but I say you only live once, and this is New York.
There are crazier things out there than wearing a designer dress and going out at ten in the morning.
Maybe a shiny wrap will distract from the cracks.
Once I step outside I notice two new faces within my security detail.
What is going on?
Paranoia grips me by the throat, and something feels wrong. I steel my shaking hands, letting out a slow breath.
“Where’s Dima and Nino?” I ask my head of security, Leo.
Leo’s eyes meet my gaze, unnerving and cold. “They were pulled off duty today, miss.”
“By who?” I ask, frowning.
“The boss.” He avoids prolonged eye contact, which is so unlike him.
I pause. Emiliano never randomly changes my security detail. This can’t be good.
But I’m not safe either way. Inside or outside, I will always have a target on my back. I guess I can ask him later today.
I slide into the limo, barely acknowledging the two new guards standing outside. But then something makes me pause. One of them—the taller one with a buzz cut—hesitates before shutting the door. Just for a second. His eyes flicker to Leo, who gives him a sharp look. The door closes a beat too late.
I don’t know what is happening, but it’s as if a lead ball has settled in my stomach. Thoughts of things that happened and things that might happen swirl around, gripping me with a sense of terror I wish I could be rid of.
Don’t let her win, Mara.
The drive to the mall is uneventful, but that pit in my stomach won’t go away, so I try to focus on what’s outside my window. It has been raining nonstop for the entire week, and the ground is still slick from it.
The car slows as we approach the underground parking garage, and my car door opens before I even reach for the handle.
I can see at least three bodyguards in my line of vision.
I know there are more, but they’re probably hidden.
They surround me as I step into the elevator.
I hate people in my personal space, especially men.
I wish I had more say when it comes to my security detail. My brothers think they’re protecting me when, in reality, they’re suffocating me.
The elevator doors slide open and three guards step out before me. It’s loud, especially since it’s a Saturday, but that won’t stop me from making a dent in the fortune my family has amassed.
Just as I’m about to wrap up my shopping spree, it happens again. That feeling. While I’m stepping out of the Versace store, balancing my bags as my bodyguards close in around me, my heel clicks against the polished marble floor, echoing louder than it should.
A shiver slithers down my spine, cold and sharp.
Eyes. On me.
My pulse falters. My skin tightens with awareness. My grip on my handbag turns white-knuckled.
I turn, scanning the crowd. Nothing. Just people moving, shopping, lost in their own lives. I swallow, forcing my shoulders to relax.
You’re being ridiculous.
My phone vibrates just as the limo pulls out of the garage, snapping me out of the unease crawling up my spine.
“What’s up, Matteo? You don’t ever call.”
His voice, bored and low, comes over the speaker, “Ma said you’re babysitting Bee.”
It’s not a question, but a statement.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Stay close to home today. Don’t go anywhere unless it’s to Eli and Val’s place,” he says, tone clipped.
“I just finished shopping. Why?”
Matteo pauses a beat, as if hesitating. The action is so unlike him that it makes me question everything he’s said.
He’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but I do know that it can’t be anything good. The last time they hid something from me, I was…
The thought causes a shiver to run along my spine. Shaking it off, I try to focus on Matteo.
“Just don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be coming over when you go to babysit Bee,” he finally says.
How cute. My brother wants to hang out, but doesn’t know how to ask.
I bite back the urge to laugh and say, “You could’ve just told me you wanted to hang out.”
“I don’t want to hang out. There’s something I want to discuss with you,” he says gruffly.
I snort. “Right, okay.”
I don’t believe him one bit, but I also don’t call him out on it because the second I do, he’ll retreat into his own head. He’s always been so different from me and my other two brothers. They’re all cold and ruthless but it’s as if Matteo is detached from his feelings completely.
“I’ll see you at Eli and Val’s.” He mutters a goodbye before the line cuts off.
My brothers think I don’t know they plan on sending me off to Italy with the only man I’ve ever wanted, but hated: Nicolo Esposito.
“Is something wrong, Miss Mara?” one of the guards asks.
I turn to look at him, shaking my head. “No.”
Still, I tighten my grip on my handbag and pick up my pace, hoping to be done quickly. I have the guards place most of my bags in the trunk, but the rest stay in the front beside me.
You use materialistic things to feel something. How pathetic.
Materialistic or not, I love spending money.
To cover up that rotten heart inside.
When the car stops in front of the townhouse, I only grab four bags: the Sephora ones. Last time I let these savages who work for my brother handle my makeup, they managed to break three blushes, a bronzer, a highlighter, and a foundation bottle.
As I make my way up the stairs, I hear the low murmurs of a couple of guards.
“Doesn’t feel right…but the boss hasn’t said anything.”
I pause, unsure what they’re talking about. Was there another attack? Could that be what Matteo wants to tell me tonight?
Brushing it off, I continue on my way, closing my door behind me. I slump against it, knees drawn close to my chest.