Chapter 1
March 23, 2021
I’ve spent my entire life locked away in a tower.
Okay, maybe not in a literal sense - but that’s what it feels like to be in my world. All of my decisions were made for me. My entire life and all my choices had been scrutinized under a microscopic view. I wasn’t able to take a breath or even a single step without someone watching me.
“Don’t wear that Soren.”
“What are you doing Soren?”
“Is that really the best choice for this family Soren?”
“Watch your tone Soren.”
But unlike the tale of the princess who got rescued from the tower, there wouldn’t be a knight in shining armor to save me.
The man I thought was my savior turned out to be a monster. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Let me start from the beginning.
I’ve spent my entire life in Boston with my dad, who was a Mafia boss. My mom died when I was born, so I never knew her. I found out the secret of my father’s profession when I was eight years old. I wasn’t even supposed to find out, but when you’re a smart child and a man walks into your father’s study with his hands dripping in blood and a fist full of money, you put two and two together. But you’d never know looking at my dad that crime and money lead his life. He was one of the nicest men to grace this shitty planet.
Was.
My dad died when I was eighteen, just as I was about to venture out of Boston for college. I’d gotten into the University of Georgia for a fine arts degree. I was ready to spread my wings and fly. And my dad was supportive a hundred and ten percent, both financially and emotionally.
He died the same day I got my acceptance letter into UGA, and though I’d never admit it to anyone I blamed myself. Maybe the excitement mixed with the heartache of his only daughter leaving made his heart give out.
But as time went on, and I began to peel back more layers of Lilah and who she truly was, I began to have a different theory.
My dad was my best friend. He supported every dream I’d ever had. He bought me my first paint set when I was three. I’ve lived my entire life in a perfect bubble of happiness.
And then my dad met Lilah.
Now six years later, here I was, still stuck in Boston.
“Soren!” Lilah’s screechy voice bellowed up the staircase to my room in the attic. “Time to go!”
I quickly adjusted my button up shirt and my blazer and stepped into my heels. Today’s my first day working at the “company” as Lilah likes to call it. She decided if she was going to keep me in Boston, she might as well get her use from me.
At least it was easy work, from what I’d been told. All I had to do was answer the phones and whatever administrative tasks they had for me. Nobody should be fooled by the shiny glass tower in the middle of the city. My family’s front was that we did international trading. But it was all built on crime and blood money.
I wasn’t entirely innocent in all of it. I spent my fair share of the murderous fortune. My entire paycheck from Canella Inc would go to my account controlled solely by Lilah. It’d mix in with the dirty money already in there and become it.
I sighed and ran my hands down my top one last time before deciding to leave well enough alone and head out the door.
I made my way down the stairs, heels clicking on every step before I made it to the bottom landing. This house was entirely too big for only two people and the help to live in. I was desperate to move into my own apartment in downtown Boston with lots of windows, the complete opposite of my attic bedroom. But Lilah kept me trapped here. If I didn’t stay here and do everything her little heart desired, she’d somehow take away the inheritance I was meant to get at twenty-five. She held it over my head any time I even considered rolling my eyes at one of her requests.
My father had set up a trust for me as soon as he found out my mother was pregnant with me. But the guidelines of the trust and his will stated I had to be twenty-five to obtain it. Since Lilah had been written into the will when they got married, I had no idea how much of that was still true. She was such a snake, she could have somehow snuck a document in for my father to sign without his knowing. The man signed so many things he’d probably have no idea and think nothing of it.
So, even though I’m allowed to leave and do as I please for the most part, I couldn’t leave permanently. All I did was spend my days in my room, and my nights on the town getting so wasted I could barely remember my name. Now with my job, I’d have to keep my nights sober unless it was the weekend.
Getting a job may have meant more freedom during the day, but the nights were what I lived for. I lived for quiet nights under a blanket full of stars the same way I liked the buzz of a dancing crowd in a club. Either scenario helped with the loudness of my thoughts and the itching of my skin to be free.
“Ready to go?” Lilah asked, slinging her purse over her shoulder. I couldn’t deny that she was drop dead gorgeous, bottle blonde hair and all. But I’d always believed it was what’s on the inside that mattered. I could never understand what my dad saw in her. Because on the inside, Lilah Canella was a vile, venomous bitch of a woman.
I closedmy journal on the diary entry from two years ago.
I’d read online that writing your thoughts down was supposed to be a healing experience, but for me it just cemented the hard facts of my past down on paper.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath. What I’d give for it to be two years ago. To have Lilah be my biggest problem. I slowly brought my fingers up to graze my busted and bloody lip. It wasn’t my first and probably wouldn’t be my last. But it still hurts like a bitch every time.
My life felt so much simpler back then. I almost took for granted how easy things were. I would work at my father’s office under Lilah’s command and watchful eye, come home every night and stay alone. It was a cycle I had gotten used to, and one that I would always seek comfort in.
I’d even begun to be at peace with some of the darker parts of myself: the way I blamed myself for my father’s death, the sadness I had over the missed opportunities of my life.
But in the last two years, I”ve gone from one prison to another.
The souring of my marriage at first started off as little things: If I got the wrong kind of wine for dinner, or if I wore the wrong shade of lipstick. He’d coldly correct me and I’d made the mistake of not taking him seriously, and I’d slip up again. Then he told me I embarrassed him in front of his family at dinner one night by wearing a shorter dress, and that’s how I ended up with my first black eye. I’d known some ruthless girls in high school, but never had I ever gotten into a fight or my ass beat. Lilah was a bitch, but at least she kept her hands to herself.
But now I’d gotten so numb, that the pain was a normal part of my life.
At this moment, I was currently sitting on the chaise in the study section of my bedroom, reading over my journal entries from the last several years. Sometimes I’d lift up the floorboards and pull out my journals and reminisce on my previous hell during my new one. It was something to pass the time and fill my day. At least I have my own personal library where I can read all day and paint. But there’s only so many books to read, and only so much paint I can use before I have to ask my husband for more. I try to avoid Jude any way I can. If I did have to interact with him, it was to do everything in my power to keep him happy. Or fulfill whatever sexual duty he needed from me.
Not to mention that my motivation to paint anything full of beauty had crashed and burned at a rapid rate. Some days it felt like I was better off staring at the walls then painting a portrait of sadness.
Jude had gotten everything when he’d married me, and I’d lost everything. My inheritance. My body. My freedom. I was merely alive to exist for my husband’s benefit.
Shortly after I’d started at Canella Inc, my stepmother had begun setting me up on what I thought were blind dates. But I just shrugged it off because of the free meal and wine, right? It gave me something to do, and I’d never have to see them again, or so I thought.
Instead she was showing off her inventory. Because two months of blind dates later, I came home from work one night and was told to put on my favorite dress. It was cute, kind of short, black as the night sky. It was always my go to whenever I went clubbing and it had been so long since I’d worn it. It made me feel like myself again slipping it on, and I felt hopeful for the first time in a long time.
At first, I thought maybe Lilah was shipping me off for another blind date. But instead, I was led into our extravagant and large dining room to a table full of rich and powerful men, and sold off to the highest bidder. She was preparing me for an auction. A fucking auction to be married to a man. What or how much she got in return I’ll never know. But I got a lifetime with Jude Peirano, who would you believe it, was the son of a notorious crime boss in Rhode Island.
So I finally got my wish to spread my wings and leave Boston. But it wasn’t in the way I’d ever hoped or dreamed. Instead, it was my own personal nightmare.
I could still remember how full of hope I’d been when Jude had been the one to win the auction for me. How it could have been someone worse, or someone older. But little did I know that Jude was one of the worst men there.
I smoothedmy dress down for the hundredth time, not ready for another impromptu date that Lilah had decided to send me on. It was always a shot to my nerves to have to go on these dates. One, because I had absolutely no idea who it was going to be, and two, what was going to come out of it.
What if one of them decided they wanted more out of this than just a meal? What if I had to hand myself and my body over?
“Soren!” Lilah’s voice traveled up the stairs as it always did, alerting me that the driver was ready to take me to the restaurant of my date’s choosing. It was usually so disgustingly expensive, but the food was good, so at least I got something nice out of it.
But as I came down the stairs, and heard the murmurs of voices, something felt different. Our house was never this busy. There was never any noise to fill the dead silence within the walls.
“Soren, I have a surprise for you,” Lilah said, sickly sweet. It was another sign that something wasn’t as it should be—any surprise Lilah brought was liable to get me in some sort of trouble.
“What is it?” I asked hesitantly, noticing the driver wasn’t waiting at the door like he usually was before these dates—strike number three on the checklist of signs that things were about to go to shit.
Lilah wordlessly placed a hand on the small of my back, and led me towards the dining room. As the table came into view, the blood rushed from my face and nausea coiled in my gut because surrounding the table sat a variety of men.
Old, young, black, white.
Some looked harmless, while some looked like they could snap my neck with their bare hands.
“Behave yourself,” Lilah hissed as she practically shoved me closer to the table, and every single set of eyes landed on me. I tried so hard to swallow my fear, but I was petrified. I hadn’t yet learned that powerful men could smell fear from a mile away, and some would be wicked enough to use that against me.
“Welcome to our very special auction tonight. This is our honorary guest, Soren, who will be yours for the right price.”
I think every bit of air I’d ever inhaled left my lungs at her statement, because what kind of fucked up horror movie scene did I just walk into? What did she mean I would be one of theirs for the right price? Did they all see me as if I was some cattle to be auctioned off at a fair?
Glancing nervously into every single set of eyes that now scanned me up and down, mine connected to a pair of eyes so blue that I felt like it would take one leap and I’d drown within them. They were attached to a handsome-looking man who gently smiled at me, as if to tell me everything was okay.
As Lilah introduced everyone around the table, the mystery man who sent chills down my spine spoke. “I’m Jude Peirano, and unfortunately for the rest of these men, you’ll be coming home with me.”
But it didn’t come easily to him.
“Let’s start the bidding off at three million,” Lilah had said. As if that kind of money was nothing. Which, I suppose, in the eyes of men like these with endless pockets, it was.
A man sitting at the far end of the table lazily lifted his fingers, like the effort was too much for him.
Lilah gave a nod in appreciation, and it was almost enough to make me sick.
“Three and a half million, anyone?” She asked, looking around the table at the array of men.
A man at the opposite end of the table made the same lazy gesture to put his bid in for my life.
It went on like this for a minute, each man seeing just how far the other would go to win. I nervously glanced at Jude and saw a smug look on his face, but he hadn’t raised his hand yet to bid.
Sweat began to bead my forehead, because neither of the men in this current bidding war were people I wanted to go home with.
The first man looked well into his fifties and his hair had turned entirely grey, not a speck of color left.
The second man was far younger, with greasy, slicked back, dark hair and an equally greasy smile.
Each reeked of trouble and desperation for a woman’s touch—whether she gave it willingly or not.
“Five million dollars going once,” Lilah looked around the table. “Twice?”
“Ten million dollars.”
My mouth fell open as this came from Jude. Looking around the table, I could tell I wasn’t the only one who was stunned into silence.
Each man shook their head in disgust and withdrew their bids.
Jude was sitting at the head of the table, which was incredibly fitting in this moment.
And true to his word, ten million dollars later, I was signing a contract to be his bride.
At first I thought it was so charming of Jude to say that I was going home with him to all the other men, like maybe he was coming to my rescue with his words, but Jude Peirano was anything but kind and gentle.
And he did anything but rescue me that night.