Chapter One
SKENDER
You awake?
Yeah. What’s up?
I’m not going to make my flight.
What? Why not?
I don’t know. The guards told me I have to stay.
But they agreed! It was part of the wedding negotiations!
The Beciraj family are all liars. I don’t know why we expected anything else from those rats.
You better call Dafina and tell her now.
Can you tell her? It will be better coming from you.
No way!
Please.
NO.
Please? You know how bad my anxiety is!! Just do this for me.
NOOOOO.
Don’t make me beg. Or remind you of all the holidays and birthdays I spent alone here in prison.
Oh, that’s a low fucking blow. It’s not my fault our grandfather couldn’t pay.
It’s your fault our mother couldn’t!
Fine. But you owe me.
Trust me. I’m going to make everything right.
One night. I just have to make it through this family dinner and then I can leave.
My stomach was in knots as I drove down the beautifully landscaped lane that led to my mother’s ridiculous country club mansion. During my drive from Dallas, I had been mentally preparing as if I was going to war. Maybe a bit dramatic, but it sure felt as if I were about to storm a battlefield.
Not that I had chosen particularly good armor for the occasion. I loved the peony pink kaftan I had bought on vacation on Phi Phi Don with my best friend Cheyenne. It made me feel pretty, something that I struggled with even after years of therapy.
"I love who I am,” I announced confidently over Chappell Roan’s upbeat singing. “I am stronger than my fears.”
Was I? Because fear was one of the reasons I never came home.
Also—shame.
Humiliation.
“I am letting go of all of my worries.” My voice quavered. “I am calm and relaxed.” I smiled at the dog walker handling seven leashes attached to prancing little lap dogs. “And I am talking to myself like a crazy person.”
I wanted to turn around and drive straight back to Dallas, back to my cozy apartment. I wanted to be anywhere but here, minutes away from facing my mother.
Why did I come back here?
Dafina. My sister. I might not like her very much—and she liked me even less—but I was not going to let her face this sham of an arranged marriage alone.
Not that I had much of a choice anyway. My mother had practically threatened my life when I had mentioned skipping this dinner.
She didn’t want my company. She wanted my money.
More than she had ever demanded from me in the past. Enough that it made me sick to pull it out of my safe and tuck it away in my handbag.
Even if I’d been brave enough to tell my mother to kick rocks, I didn’t dare refuse my grandfather.
His most recent phone call had made that terrifyingly clear.
Even from all the way across the Atlantic, sitting in his little fiefdom in Montenegro, Grandfather’s raspy voice sent shivers down my spine.
I would show up to this dinner—or I would learn a painful lesson.
To my grandfather, family was everything. Blood ties were paramount.
Duty. Honor. Loyalty. They were part of my DNA.
Refusing a command from your father or grandfather was unthinkable. Which was why my father was dead and buried back in Albania. He hadn’t been brave enough to refuse a suicide mission ordered by my grandfather.
Not that we ever discussed his death or the reasons it happened.
We never mentioned my Aunt Gonxhe who had been blown up when she was on the way to a midwife appointment or my Uncle Pali who had his throat slit while leaving a night club.
We never spoke of the failed coup that led to our family’s exile. It was absolutely forbidden.
Secrets. Lies. Superstitions. If our family had a motto, those would be our words.
I dragged in an anxious breath as I turned onto the driveway. The gates were closed, and I had to lean out of the driver’s side window and tap the keypad. All these years, no one had thought to change the code. Not exactly the best security protocol for a mafia family in exile.
The grounds had been perfectly manicured for the evening’s festivities.
The alternating stripes in the freshly mowed yard were two different shades of green.
The pink rose bushes were perfectly shaped, and the flower beds and planters had bright pink and deep red annuals spilling out of them.
The fountain in the center of the drive sprayed a shimmer of water into the air, catching sunbeams and casting a rainbow.
I hesitated when I reached the house. I hadn’t been told where to park, and I doubted there was even a space for me in the carriage house hidden behind a screen of arbor vitae. I pulled under the porte-cochere for now.
I sat there with the air conditioner blasting in my face, working up the courage to go inside. I felt like a prisoner just moments away from facing a firing squad.
“This situation is temporary.” I spoke calmly and willed myself to believe the words. “I am equipped to handle this situation.”
I wasted a few more moments by checking my makeup.
Last weekend, one of the little girls I coached had smacked a line drive straight out into left field, bringing three runs and clutching a win for our softball team.
Unfortunately for me, I’d been directly in the line of fire when she let go of her bat.
The swelling had gone down quickly. The color had shifted from bright purple and red to darker shades of blue and green.
Having a best friend who was an absolute pro at makeup had its perks.
Cheyenne had given me a pile of products to use including some disgustingly expensive concealer and a handmade arnica cream she’d picked up at a farmer’s market. The bruise was barely visible now.
Steeled for the worst, I turned off my Outback, grabbed my purse and stepped out into humid breeze.
I held the handbag like a shield in front of me and kept my head high as walked to the front door.
I didn’t even have to ring the bell. The double doors with their ornate iron work swung open before I even had a chance to lift my hand.
“Elona! You’re home!” Mariana, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with tears in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing the air out of my lungs, and hugged me as if she feared I might disappear. “I’ve missed you so much!”
I laughed. “Mariana! You saw me four months ago for my birthday!”
“And that was four months too long!” She rubbed my back in that soothing, motherly way. Everything about her was familiar, and I felt the tension leave my body. Momentarily, at least.
I breathed in the scent of her perfume. White Diamonds. She’d worn it as long as I had known her. The floral notes called forth my favorite memories of coming home from school to Mariana’s hugs and her crispy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and ice cold strawberry milk.
“Come inside!” She shut and locked the door behind me, and I was taken aback by the lack of décor. As if reading my mind, she said, “They canceled.”
“Who? The florist?” I had been expecting the entryway to be overflowing with flower arrangements and bustling with activity as caterers prepped for the night’s small party. “The caterer?”
“Everyone.” Mariana made a face. “They didn’t get paid.”
“What? Why not?”
“Your mother is having cash flow problems again.” Mariana stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A man came to the house the other day, and they argued in her office.”
“A man? What man?”
She shrugged. “He had a mark on his face. Red and purple.” She gestured to her right eye and cheek. “He had an accent.”
“Albanian?”
She shook her head. “No, something else. Italian maybe.”
Were there any Italian mobsters here? I might have fled Houston and my family, but I still knew enough about the underworld to name the major players in the city. Or, at least, I thought I did.
“Your mom lost a huge development contract. Maybe it was something related to that. Four of her agents walked to start their own firm. She’s counting on the money that your grandfather owes her for Dafina.”
And the money in my purse. The money my mother had demanded I bring. The money she had practically blackmailed me to get.
I had a sneaking suspicion my mother was gambling again.
That was the only explanation for her cash flow problems. She had received a fat lump sum payout when she divorced my stepdad Brett plus a bunch of property, including this house, free and clear.
Her business should have been generating enough money to allow her to live very comfortably.
But my mother’s money problems would have to wait. Right now, I was more concerned with salvaging the dinner party tonight.
“What can I do to help?” I might not want to be here, but I had to make the best of it. “Do we need servers? Can we get last minute catering?”
“I have the menu prepped and ready. My sister is sending the boys to help with serving, and she’s loaning me one of her line cooks and assistant chefs for the rest of the afternoon.”
“If we need more help, tell her I’ll pay. Immediately,” I added.
“You shouldn’t have to pay for—.”
“No one is going to find out!”
Mariana and I both jumped at the shrill screams from upstairs. Dafina. The belle of tonight’s ball.
“Luka Beciraj is not like the idiots you’ve dated, Dafina. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“And I’m going to win just like I always do!”
“What’s that about?” I asked as my anxiety skyrocketed.
Before Mariana could answer, my mother screamed, “You stupid little bitch! There’s no winning! This isn’t a game! If he finds out—.”
“Baba didn’t!”
There was a silence followed by the unmistakable crack of a hand slapping a face. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Dafina!”
“Why don’t you just lock me away like you did Dani? Throw me in Menninger and forget about me!” Dafina screamed a few moments later.
“That can be arranged! I still have their number in my phone.”