Captured Sins (Orchestrated Corruption #4)

Prologue

Anastasia

Loud voices penetrated the hallway, shouts indicating heightened anger.

My father’s usually deep baritone wavered in intensity, his frustration growing. My brother had to be involved. He was one of the few people who could create havoc in the family.

I stood in the shadows, my grip on the stairway railing white knuckled.

Something was going on, something that frightened me and I didn’t even know what could be wrong. I only knew tension and silence was replacing our family’s usual laughter.

“Miss Scavullo, I have mail for you.”

Jumping, I pulled away from the banister, heat rising across my face. Just then, I heard the doorbell. A visitor on a Sunday. Very unusual.

My personal assistant reached out for my arm. When I finally looked in her direction, her nod was meant as a reminder that I had no place in the world of my father’s business. I was a girl, no one special in the eyes of the Cosa Nostra.

Sighing, I headed to my room, Sophia dutifully following. She closed the door behind me as I headed to the window. Whoever had arrived for a visit with my father and brother was important enough to have bodyguards. Burly men stood by a fancy black sedan.

As soon as I pressed my hand against the glass, one guard noticed movement and tilted his head toward me.

My God. Even from where I stood on the second floor, I noticed a horrific scar cutting an ugly line down one side of his face.

A moment of terror skittered down my spine.

What was my father doing? I backed away, fighting a wave of terror I hadn’t known for a very long time.

There was always a sense of danger even in my sheltered world, but given my father’s power, I’d always been protected.

At least for the most part.

Why did it feel as if everything was about to change?

“Ms. Scavullo. Your mail.”

Her voice was even more insistent than before.

“Sophia. Please call me Anastasia. We are friends. No?” I adored Sophia.

She’d been with me for years. My maid. My assistant.

My surrogate mother since mine wanted nothing to do with me.

Frustrated, I backed away from the window, taking quick steps to my vanity.

I’d had it since I was a little girl, a piece of furniture reminding me of my princess status.

For some reason, the thought angered me as I sat down on the velvet stool, grabbing my jeweled hairbrush, the rubies glistening in the bright lights surrounding the mirror.

A gift from my father.

After spinning it in my fingers, I raked the brush through my long curls. I hated my curly hair and had tried unsuccessfully for years to make it straight. As with everything else in my miserable, sequestered life, it had been a complete failure.

She shook her head vehemently. “Your mama would not approve.”

To hell with my mother. Even as the ugly thought drifted into my mind, I was already prepared to confess my sins at morning mass. Which I did with frequency. At this rate, our priest must consider me a terrible person.

When I opened my mouth to retort, Sophia offered a one of her rather infamous chastising looks.

Highly effective as well as frustrating, yet I honored her wishes.

“What is the letter?” I had no friends, especially any far enough away who would take the time or find the necessity to write me a letter.

I continued brushing my hair, frustrated by my unruly curls. Today was my birthday. It wasn’t every day a young lady turned sixteen.

Sadly, there would be no party, merely dinner with my family and only if Papa wasn’t too busy.

“It’s from America.”

Instantly, I froze, peering at her in the mirror. “America?”

Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t do it.

“Yes. Yes.” Excitement brightened her eyes and her hand was shaking as she held out the crisp white envelope. Swiveling in my chair, I stared at it for several seconds before finding the courage to take it from her fingers.

At first, I didn’t look at the return address, fearful I would pass out.

“Don’t be afraid, Miss Scavullo. This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“I know. What if they don’t want me?” I’d only ever wanted a single thing in my life.

Just one. I’d trained very hard since I was four in hopes of being one of the lucky few selected to continue my training in the United States.

It was a dream that my mother and father didn’t share, but it hadn’t stopped me from pursuing my dream behind their backs.

“You’re the most talented dancer I’ve ever seen. And so very beautiful.”

Sophia was my greatest supporter. Who was I kidding? She was my only supporter. And my only friend. My father loved me. That much I knew in my heart, but he was far too busy to spend but so much time away from his work.

Being the only daughter of the most important man in Sicily was a lonely endeavor. This was my one chance at breaking free of the perfectly decorated prison I’d lived in my entire life.

“You’ve only seen a few dancers in your life, Sophia, but thank you. The world is so special. When I dance, I’m truly myself. I know you don’t understand.”

“I do, Miss Scavullo. I just…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. My only worth in the family was being the perfect daughter, coiffed and waiting to be used in whatever method my father determined.

Shrugging, she nodded toward the envelope.

After a few seconds, I finally found my courage, ripping the flap, almost dropping the single piece of paper.

As soon as I read the words, I jumped up and down, forced to slap my hand over my mouth to keep the sound from penetrating the hallway.

The last thing I wanted was for one of the guards to burst in.

“What does it say?” Sophia was already jumping up and down with me.

I took a deep breath, laughing nervously. “It says: Dear Miss Scavullo, the American Ballet Theater would like to invite you to continue your formal ballet training in the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School for the upcoming season.”

A frown crossed my face as I read ahead in the body of the letter.

“What’s wrong?” Sophia asked.

The excitement faded from my tone. “We have made several attempts to contact you via email. Unfortunately, as the positions are limited, if we do not hear from you by…”

I jerked my head up. “They need to know by tomorrow or they’ll give my place away to another student. I didn’t get any emails. Did you?”

“No, Miss Scavullo.”

Fuck.

“That means my mother did.” My own mother hated me.

She’d do anything to sabotage my happiness.

My papa would be furious with her. I jerked up from the seat, tossing the brush and heading for the door with the letter still in my hand.

I’d worked so hard over the years to even be considered good enough to be accepted in the ballet school.

The American Ballet Theater. The most prestigious dance company in the world. Even the Bolshoi wasn’t nearly as good. At least that’s what I believed. And who would want to go to Russia?

“Where are you going?” Sophia moved towards me and I was surprised by the odd look on her face.

“I’m going to talk to my father.”

She shook her head, fear in her eyes. “You cannot do that right now. You know he has a visitor.”

“I do not care if he has a visitor. This is important. Besides, my papa always has time for me. He will fix this.” I was already at the door when I felt her presence behind me. I’d never been so angry in my life.

“You do not want to go downstairs.”

“Sophia. I love you but I don’t have any time to waste.” I threw open the door, rushing down the stairs. At least today was Mama’s primping appointments, which meant she was out and couldn’t try to interfere.

My father’s office was at the other end of the house.

I scurried down the darkened hallway, trying to think of the right words to say.

Other than Rome and Madrid for a shopping trip, I’d never been far from home, certainly not to the United States.

My father believed the country to be dirty and barbaric.

I’d practiced the speech for hours, praying and wishing so hard. Please. Please. Please. This was my one chance to prove myself, to be on my own.

I flew down the last hallway and before I was halfway to his closed door, I heard the same voices as before. Even louder and angrier.

Shocked there were no guards waiting outside his door, I used the empty corridor to my advantage.

I’d become an excellent snoop over the years, discovering dozens of details about life outside the walls of my gilded prison.

Maybe I could find out why the emails had been kept from me.

My father was the most powerful man in all of Italy. Some people believed in all of Europe.

He was also a ruthless man, feared by almost everyone.

Except his daughter. I loved my father with all my heart.

Maybe that was why I was so angry in hearing some horrible man attacking him. The accent. What kind of accent did he have? I inched closer, trying to remain as quiet as a church mouse.

“There will be no alliance with your Pakhan. I am not interested.” My papa was clearly angry, his voice shaking more than I’d heard in a long time. Who was he talking to?

“Father. You need to reconsider,” Marco said. I could tell easily tell how unhappy he was with my father’s decision.

“You will be sorry you did not take our offer, Don Scavullo. You will have forty-eight hours to reconsider,” the gruff man with an accent said.

“And the answer will be the same.”

Hearing movement, I rushed toward the small half bath, moving into the darkness and holding my breath. Footsteps stormed by, two men taking long strides. Peeking out, I watched them as they walked away. Both huge men. Both heavily armed.

For some reason, a trickle of fear skipped down my spine. I waited to ensure they’d been alone before returning to my father’s door, which was already closed again.