Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Sage
Iwake with a start, water splashing over my face. Sputtering to clear my throat, I jolt upright and find myself blinded by the sun from where I'm strewn about in the garden bed. With a frown, I catch my breath and wipe the water from my eyes before pulling my little white dress to cover my thighs.
The sky is clear over the grounds of our country-mansion estate.
Birds chirp and fly happily in the periphery over the manicured lawns and cobblestone pathways that lead around the house.
Vines crawl over the sandstone exterior, all the way up to the window that I clearly fell from when trying to sneak back in last night, leaving me passed out in the fucking plants with - yep - a garden hose pointed at my face.
The sun gets blocked by a shadow and a chuckle.
"Rise and shine."
The chuckle belongs to Freddie, the shadow to Nicholas. Who is standing over me with his corded arms folded and a frown on his perfect face while Freddie smothers a laugh in the background. Freddie's the fucker holding the hose.
"Freddie. Jesus, that was cold," I say. I groan as I sit up, pulling leaves from my hair and wiping dirt from my forearms.
Nicholas looks away and shakes his head. "The garden bed, Sage? Really?" He turns his surly brown eyes onto me, raising a brow as if he's expecting me to answer.
I won't.
"Your uncle is coming up the drive, bella signorina, best straighten up," Freddie says, dropping the hose and smacking his hands together to rid the dirt covering them. With an exaggerated glare, Nicholas picks up the hose and reels it back together to secure in its rightful place.
The second that I stretch my arms and stand, my CGM monitor starts beeping like crazy. I'm suddenly lightheaded, and my feet get stuck to the planter beds as I stumble and trip over my own feet.
Nic just manages to reach out and catch me in his arms before I hit dirt. I clutch onto his straining biceps and grimace when I turn my head up to him. Now I know I've really fucked up, because in this state, I'm not sure I can make it back inside.
If it's even possible, Nic's frown gets deeper before his eyes dart down to the monitor. He rights me and pulls me to him, scanning over the reading on the device's receiver.
"Less than fifty?! Sage, for the love of God." He doesn't release my arm. "That's nearly hypoglycemic. Where's your fucking insulin?"
Shit, fifty? No wonder I feel like I'm about to die. "In the kitchen."
Nicholas wipes at his forehead, turning a nervous look over his shoulder as the big iron gates to the estate open, signaling my uncle's impending arrival. "Carry her inside, Freddie, and give her a fucking candy before she kills herself."
"I can do it," I say, attempting to pull myself free from his grip but instead swaying on my heels.
Nicholas doesn't spare me another look as Freddie comes froward, his eyes downcast as he slings an arm around my waist and puts mine around his shoulders.
Freddie lifts me and carries me bridal style into the house, moving slowly at first but speeding up when the inevitable sound of tires crunching over gravel gets closer.
"What were you thinking, bella," Freddie says.
After carrying me up the front porch stairs - not to be underestimated, since Freddie is tall, lean and built like a twig - he deposits me on the kitchen counter and goes for the cupboards.
From this angle, I can see Nic standing at attention in the driveway through the golden oak bow windows.
I can also see my uncle's limo and ridiculous entourage approaching, the gates closing securely behind his obnoxious posse of vehicles.
There was a time, not long ago, when I would be here with my face pressed up against those windows waiting for my father to come home.
Just to see him push out of the swarm of people and swoop me into a hug.
I'm a daddy's girl. Well...
I was a daddy's girl.
The reminder sears my heart and I drop my eyes, unable to take it. I was the daughter of one of the biggest crime bosses in the city. The name Dimitri DeMarco sent fear through the blood of the bravest of men. One look from him could turn you to stone.
Eight months later, it's like they don't even remember my father's name as they scramble to accommodate my uncle, who took on the leadership role after my father died.
"Eat this," Freddie says. He hands me my insulin pen and a dinosaur-shaped candy, which I munch on gratefully while I pull needles and packs from their wrappers. "You can't let your blood sugar levels get that low."
"I'm very well aware of the requirements, Freddie. I have been diabetic for twelve years now."
His sympathetic eyes eat into mine and nearly suffocate me.
I want to feel alone since my father's death.
I want to wallow in the pain and feel like there's nobody left in the world to look out for me.
That's not true though. All of my father's men have rallied around me like the brothers they've always been.
All except one. Yeah, he could never be like a brother.
"You all need to stop mother-henning."
"I'm following orders, Nic's the hen," Freddie says, feigning his outrage.
"So you're not caring for me out of the love of your heart, Freddie? It's just orders?"
His flirty smile returns instantly. "Ahh, bella, these are orders I would gladly follow to the ends of the earth."
His genuine smile and kind words threaten tears from me as I deliver the dose to my stomach, the sting of the needle an oddity I don't even feel as I munch down on a candy snake.
I feel small as I curl my hands under my thighs and contemplate my place in the world. I have no idea who I am or where I belong. Daughter of Dimitri DeMarco? I'm not sure that ever defined who I am. Now? Well... I'm just a little lost.
Anton and Nic finally make their way through the house, coming up the porch stairs into the kitchen's side door through the same route Freddie and I followed.
"Pissed off is the understatement of the century, Nic," Anton says, barreling straight to the fridge.
"Can't make them do any more, boss," Nic replies, hands behind his back like a sentry. He's the only asshole that takes this work so seriously.
Nic used to be my father's third, but now he's Anton's second. Whatever it is they do, he's more dedicated than he surely needs to be. He's married to this job. This stupid lifestyle.
He's all sharp stares and muscles. Surly scowls.
It's hard not to notice him. Especially when he insists on walking around in those tight black shirts that sculpt to him like he's wet all.
The. Time. The trousers that cling to him like a second skin.
He's always standing up so straight, pulling his hands tight behind his back or folding them over his chest, muscles flexing and bulging with every slight movement.
He's got that perfectly messy light brown hair that melts into my hands when I tug on it.
The tense jaw with just a bit of stubble.
He's the only one that was brought on after I matured, and so I've never seen him as the brother I see in the others. He's always been a man to me. I smirk at the thought.
Nic and I have a secret. He hates it when I can't be as subtle as he is.
"You know, Anton, there's one way to get the Rushkoffs to hear you out," Freddie shrugs, appearing fully in Anton's face when the fridge door shuts. Nicholas shifts almost imperceptibly to glare at him.
Anton gives Freddie a tired look. "Shut up, Freddie. Not gonna happen."
"What's not gonna happen?" I ask.
"Nothing," Anton and Nic snap in unison.
My brows rise to my forehead before my shoulders slump in a clear sulk, my long dark hair - that probably still has leaves in it - falling out of its half-tie and down my back. "I never get to know anything."
"Don't sass me today," Anton says. "Don't think I didn't catch your escapade in the garden."
Freddie cringes and Nic tenses.
"Shit," Freddie laughs. Anton spares him a quick disapproving scowl before turning that attention back my way.
"You snuck out again," Uncle Anton says.
"I'm not sorry." I lift my chin and fold my arms for emphasis.
He rubs at his forehead like I'm very difficult indeed. I probably am. I can't bring myself to care, though. I can't bring myself to be or feel much of anything anymore.
"Why? Why, Sage?" Anton says, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know the rules. Just take someone with you. I've never restricted where you can go."
"No, just that I'm not allowed to do anything alone.
" And that there is the catalyst. Being a crime boss' daughter is fraught with danger.
Danger I know all too well. So I've never left this property alone.
Never been to school. Never had friends.
Never been to a party. Never been drunk.
Never had more than a steady secret fuck.
I'm twenty-two, looking at a future spent trapped in this house, without freedom and life continuing on exactly the way it is right now.
"Jesus, Sage. This was your father's rule too, you know. I'm just trying... trying to follow in his footsteps."
Anton lets out a heavy sigh. I admit, I start to feel bad. Anton has always been good to me. He's been a rock to me, all of them have. But rational thinking doesn't date a broken heart.
The mood in the room grows heavy.
"You're doing a great job, Anton," Freddie says, throwing me a hard look like I should say the same. Even though I want to - I don't actually want to be an asshole - my throat clogs and the words won't force themselves out.
I know I'm in the wrong. I do. Sulking for things that most people take for granted while I sit up here in this mansion estate with all its gauzy curtains and soft, expensive furnishings. I've never wanted for anything. Except everything I can never have.
I roll my eyes defensively, even though I want to apologize. To be good and offer comfort to someone else. I know as much as my heart hurts right now; theirs does too.
Anton's jaw ticks while Freddie gives me a disappointed look. I'm on the receiving end of too many of those, so sadly it's lost its sting.
"Don't sneak out again," Anton says. "It's far too fucking dangerous. Especially with what happened to Dimitri."
Anton stalks away, his Italian leather shoes stomping on the tiles as he returns to the foyer and heads upstairs with Freddie close on his heels.
When I turn over my shoulder, Nic is shaking his head at me. He gives me a rough look as he skates past me to follow them.
I slip a candy snake between my lips and suck hard.
Hollowing out my cheeks and puckering my lips.
Nic stops in his tracks to watch me, following the motion with a frown.
He watches the candy disappear between my lips, tongue darting out to lick the remnants.
When he realizes what I'm doing, his hungry eyes snap back to mine. I give him a devilish smile.
"Wanna lick, Nic?"
"That was immature," he says.
"The candy?"
He relaxes his shoulders, pointing in the direction that Freddie and Anton went. "The scene with your uncle."
"Ugh," I groan, pushing my dark hair over my shoulder and sliding off the counter to face him. "There wasn't a scene."
He grips my shoulders, forcing me left and right as he chases the eye contact I'm reverently avoiding. His lips are thin when our eyes finally meet. "You know you're not the only one hurting. I know you know that."
I gulp and paste an annoyed look on my face, but we both know it isn't sincere.
"Right," he says, removing his hands from my shoulders. "So, what are you doing?"
"I don't know," I admit on a whisper.
"Fucking figure it out," he says. He shakes his head at me and then sighs too, following my uncle upstairs. Most people seem to sigh or expel some sort of breath after dealing with me lately. Wonder what that says about me.
"I would if I could," I say, but he's well out of earshot and can't hear me now. How am I supposed to figure myself out now? I couldn't do it before. It certainly isn't going to happen now.
Not with less freedom and more security than before. None of the old labels seem to fit right anymore. As if they ever did.
Sage DeMarco - mafia princess?
Sage DeMarco - giant pain in everyone's ass?
Immature? Lonely? Lost?
Killed her father?
Or? Maybe just?... Terrifyingly and maddeningly in love with Nicholas Prince and denying it to the very core?
Yeah, that should do it.