A Gamble of Twisted Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter one

You don’t become queen without burying a few kings…

That’s what my Nonna whispered in my ear the day they closed the lid on my father’s casket.

The last time I saw his face as he took decades’ worth of secrets six feet under.

Little did I know those mysteries and feuds would soon become mine.

The reference to kings had nothing to do with my father.

He was a king who would go down as a hero in the eyes of this family.

Yet his untimely death shook our family to the core. I always thought it was suspicious, even though there was never any evidence of foul play.

But the empire must continue.

And it has, with me at the helm.

According to my father’s will, it was ruled that I would be the boss of the Capuano family.

At the ripe age of twenty-one, I was placed in charge of one of the most powerful families in the city.

No pressure.

However, Nonna’s warning meant that I now found myself the only queen in a sea of kings that would like nothing more than for me to join my father.

Me vs. all the heads of the other families.

Me vs. all the men.

Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it. I didn’t know shit about running the family business and I certainly didn’t know anything about killing people.

Bloodshed was my father’s prerogative.

I, on the other hand, was always a lover girl.

I’m sure my father was bitter at the fact his seed only sprouted women.

But as the oldest in a family of women, it was my duty.

For fourteen years, this has been my fucking life.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being the girl who inherited an empire and became the woman who runs it.

I’ve survived in a world that was never meant for me.

Still alive.

Still in charge.

Still a problem no one’s managed to bury… yet.

It’s crazy how this business will turn anyone into the coldest-hearted person around.

Goodbye lover girl.

Nostalgia and remembrance always flood my thoughts on this day. Brushing a stray hair from my shoulder, I wonder what my life would have been like if father was still in charge. I knew I would have to take over the family business one day, but later would have been better.

The marble floor in my bedroom gleams so bright I can see the hem of my dress reflected in it. The black velvet kisses my ankle with a slit daringly high, but stitched enough to conceal the knife hidden against my thigh.

One must be prepared at all times.

The crown I wear isn’t forged of gold or jewels, but of blood and sacrifice.

Glancing around the room, I take in the intricate golden designs etched where the wall meets the ceiling.

The king-size bed is covered in rosy pink sheets and blankets.

My walk-in closet is big enough to be its own room.

On the other side is a door that leads to an elegant bathroom Buckingham Palace would envy.

A fireplace, white furniture, and a window seat complete this space fit for royalty.

I finally have the childhood bedroom of my dreams, but now it’s only a reminder of everything I’ve lost just to get here.

Moving one of the books aside on my bookshelf, a portion of the wall slides back to reveal a hidden safe.

After punching in the code, I remove a small velvet box and place it on my vanity.

Flicking back the lid, I lift out a thick ruby statement necklace and fasten it around my neck.

After adjusting the sweetheart neckline, I lift my gaze to meet the reflection in the mirror.

The woman who’s been Queen of the Capuano family for over a decade looks back at me.

“Ma che cazzo! Is that a white hair?” I lean forward to get a better look.

My hands feverishly part my long raven locks.

“Fuck, now on top of everything else I have to be in charge of, I have to worry about dyeing my hair too.” I flinch as my fingers take the pesky strand hostage and rip it from my scalp.

I study it for a moment. It didn’t even turn gray, it’s pure white.

Lovely. Happy thirty-fifth birthday to me.

But each year on October sixth, it’s never about the cake or the candles.

It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come. Of how many lives, including my own, have been gambled for this throne along with the number of kings I’ve buried to command respect in this male-dominated hell.

I push a stray lock behind my ear to display the diamonds dripping from my ears. They catch just enough light to hold attention and command respect.

Running my fingers through my hair, I check one final time for any more white hairs. That’s the last thing Nonna needs to see. She’s already stressed enough about my womb and the fact that I’m this old with no husband or children. She doesn’t say it, but I can see it in her eyes.

This whole concept of getting married and having children later in life is foreign to her. I don’t blame her. After all, she got married at eighteen years old, and stayed married for over sixty years.

As for me, I haven’t been eighteen for a long time. If by some miracle I get married before forty, Nonna will give thanks to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and every saint that exists. Heck, she’ll probably fund the entire wedding at this point.

But I’m not worried.

I don’t have time for love or marriage.

I’m too busy trying to keep this family and our legacy alive.

Father did tell me never to settle.

He would probably be delighted that I wasn’t married yet since no one was ever good enough in his eyes…well…except for one person.

A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts.

“Come in,” I call, stepping back from the mirror and smoothing my dress.

The door swings inward to reveal Bruno De Luca, the head of security. The hum of music follows him in, reminding me of the celebration going on downstairs.

I used to love parties. Until I realized that there are always snakes in the crowd, and you never know when they are going to strike.

But tonight is different.

I’m the guest of honor and this is an exclusive invitation-only event. With security swarming every inch of my mansion and a strict check-in at the door, for the first time in a long time, I can feel my love of celebrations returning.

Bruno folds his hands across his custom black suit, and I know his gun is hidden underneath.

“Oh, Farfalla, sei bellissima. Your father would be so proud.”

A grin breaks out across my face.

Farfalla, butterfly, that had been my father, Bruno, and Sal’s nickname for me growing up, and it’s stuck ever since then.

“Grazie, Bruno.”

“Sorry to intrude, Farfalla, I wanted to let you know that the security team just finished the sweep.” Bruno adjusts his suit.

“Excellent.”

Bruno is the one who manages all the bodyguards and security protocols. He worked for my father until his death and was the only man my father trusted. Now he works for me.

“The guests on your list have all been cleared. There should be no surprises.”

Yet there are always surprises.

The kind that leaves blood stains under your nails and the grim reaper showing up at your door.

I take a deep breath and nod.

Bruno beams with pride. He’s a mountain of a man, gruff, but fiercely loyal.

Now in his early sixties, his hair is more salt than pepper, styled in a military cut.

His face is a map of scars, with a nick above his eyebrow from an old knife wound.

He has been like a second father to me throughout my entire life.

“Allow me…” Bruno leans forward and adjusts my necklace. “The clasp was showing.” He takes a step back and looks me over one final time.

“Grazie.”

“The empire shines brighter under your rule, Farfalla.”

“And may it never dim, Bruno.” I place a hand on his arm as he opens the door for me.

Holding up a portion of my dress, I glide down the hall. A few feet from the stairs, I hear what sounds like a footstep. Stopping, I turn to my left, my gaze focusing on the dead-end corridor leading to the ballroom balcony.

It’s shrouded in darkness and shadows.

I don’t see anything.

Turning behind me, I watch Bruno melt into the darkness as he walks the other way down the hall.

I could’ve sworn I heard something.

“I was wondering when you’d show up…late to your own party,” a joking voice calls to me.

Looking ahead, I smile, the voice belongs to my cousin and underboss Matteo. He leans over the railing, a slight scowl on his face. A black tuxedo molds to his body and his curly hair is styled to perfection, but still has a wild look to it.

“You look beautiful,” he grins.

I can see in his eyes something is eating him up.

“Grazie. Now what’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Matteo.”

His shoulders slump. “Sienna broke up with me.”

“What did you do this time?” I roll my eyes.

He gives me a look. “Why do you assume it’s me?”

“Because it’s always you.” I groan.

Matteo can be hot-headed and impulsive at times. Thank God I’m the one in charge and not him.

“This breaking up and making up is typical of both of you. Now is she coming to the party?”

“I don’t know.” Matteo fiddles with the fancy watch on his wrist.

“Well, call her, and stop moping around.”

I pause at the top of the spiral staircase that curves to the foyer below.

Guests mingle beneath me as they’re checked into the ballroom: family, colleagues, and allies, all handpicked by me.

The grand chandelier above scatters light on the expensive attire and the thousand-dollar jewelry adorning their bodies.

“Andiamo, you two, let’s go.” Bruno appears from the shadows. “We’re closing off the upper floor and keeping guests downstairs.” He nods to the guards posted at the bottom of the stairs and another one feet from us.

Matteo nods and hurries down the stairs, texting rapidly as he enters the ballroom.

Bruno turns to me. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Farfalla. You’ve earned it.”

I flash him a smile. “I always do.”

The upbeat tempo of the music fills me as I reach the bottom steps into the foyer.

Moving past the line of guests, I enter through the doors into the ballroom, and begin mingling with the crowd.