Chapter 1
Chapter One
New York, New York
Chiara
Present Day
Keeping my smug smile in check as I walk from Joey’s diner to my driver’s car takes mammoth effort. I just pulled off the first part of my master plan, Freedom for Chiara.
Everything happens for a reason.
If I close my eyes, I can still hear my dad’s deep voice. He would always recite this saying to me when I was upset over something not going my way. It always made my heart swell with hope, like he knew a secret I didn’t.
When they were taken from me, it was hard to think of that saying and see hope or feel like the possibility of more or better could ever be within my reach again.
In what universe could there be a good enough reason to be left in this world without my parents?
Living under Uncle Gino’s roof by his old-school rules has tested me beyond measure.
Yet, without his influence, and adopting his personal holy trinity—deception, lies, betrayal—there’s no way I would have arrived here in New York today, ready to start my dream job.
And I’ll need to use all three to pull off my plans.
After I finished my studies earlier in the year, I interned with revered US photographer Natalia Hirsch.
She was in Italy for the European summer, and my friend Arabella, who I met through my cousins Christian and Matteo, introduced me.
Arabella encouraged me to enter Natalia’s photography competition she runs every few years wherein she selects one aspiring photographer to be her first assistant and join her team, based out of New York.
Part of winning is the opportunity to showcase my work at one of Natalia’s exhibitions.
When I got the email to let me know I’d won, beating fifty other applicants and offering me a spot to exhibit with her in New York, I pondered if the good news was a sign from my mama and papa that there was still hope. Everything happens for a reason.
Finally, I was going to New York. Freedom was just a short flight on the family's private jet away.
I didn’t breathe a word of my plans to anyone. I wished I could tell Mia, but no—she betrayed me. Even now, years later, the knowledge that she must have been involved somehow is a gut punch.
I knew Uncle Gino wouldn’t be on board with the plans, so I told a small white lie about why I needed to get to New York no later than January 2.
I deceived my cousin AJ to help me convince my uncle to let me come to New York unchaperoned, and a mere hour ago, I betrayed the good nature of my incredibly handsome personal driver, Marco, to help me convince my cousin to let me stay with my friend Arabella Belmont instead of the hotel I was supposed to be booked into.
I feel bad pulling the guy into my web of lies when he thought he was going for a casual welcome to New York brunch with me and AJ.
But, telling a little white lie was a necessary evil, because in doing so, there’s no check out date, and it gives me a bit of breathing space to execute the next part of my plan that will allow me to stay in New York permanently.
If all things go accordingly, in a few short weeks my photography will be up in lights as the One to Watch feature at the highly publicized Natalia Hirsch exhibition Arabella is coordinating for her family’s media empire.
What’s more, soon enough, I’ll be signing on the dotted line to become her first assistant.
So yeah, I like this guy, Marco. He just saved my ass—not once but twice—first by vouching for our mutual friend Arabella so AJ would sign off on my change of accommodation plans, and then literally saving my life when I nearly went ass over tits on the sidewalk in my damn stiletto boots!
“Just a suggestion, but you might like to reconsider your footwear for the rest of the trip.” Marco smirks at me through his rearview mirror. “I may have been there to catch you today, but professional fuck-me-boots wrangler isn’t part of my services.”
“Hmm…so tell me, what is part of your services?” I ask, not able to resist the opening he just gave me.
“Not whatever is happening in this audiobook, that’s for sure.”
My laugh breaks free. I’m not sure what has kept me on the edge of my seat more—the sex scene playing out in the audiobook, or my driver trying to school his features with every throaty moan and raspy groan ricocheting around the car.
I know I’m an evil bitch, making a hot-blooded man sit through the exquisite torture of a virtual group fuck fest, but there was no way I was getting to the good bit and hitting pause!
Besides, spicy audiobooks have become a lifeline for me the last few years.
Outside a few vanilla hookups here and there, I swore off sex the way I like it—all-consuming, forbidden, and straddling the edge of pleasure and pain.
After Alessandro, I didn’t trust my judgement anymore.
Thinking his name conjures memories that make my body thrum.
There’s no doubt he fit the bill. The way he taught me to experience pleasure in all its forms, derived from tender touches one day and stinging pain that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. It became an addictive game.
My brain is quick to tamp down my body’s reaction, bringing to the forefront the shame that maybe I was being double-crossed the whole time. To this day, I don’t know why Mia and Alessandro would conspire to have my parents killed.
I still don’t have answers or understand their motive.
And knowing he’s the reason I didn’t get to my parents in time makes fear bloom where I thought love once lived.
I’m ashamed I didn’t tell Uncle Gino about my suspicions, but I couldn’t bear admitting to him how stupid I was.
The truth is a cross I must bear; I was too blinded by loyalty to Mia to see the signs of her deception, and utterly infatuated with Alessandro that I allowed him to use my body and desires to ensnare me so deep that I didn’t see the betrayal before it was too late.
The ring of Marco’s phone interrupts my wandering thoughts. The name Raf flashes on the screen. Marco quickly rejects the call, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror, but the call comes through again immediately.
All it takes is the shrill cell ringtone to activate a traumatic response, the guilt of how many unanswered calls my parents made to me before they were ripped from this world consuming me anew.
All I can think about with each ring is my parents’ anguish as they frantically tried to reach me, how hope must have bled from them with each attempt to get in touch with me only to get my voicemail, the cheery recorded message I thought was cute at the time, a cruel taunt.
It’s this thought that triggers a visceral response each time.
My body tenses, and my heart rate picks up speed.
Bile churns in the back of my throat, and the burning sensation behind my eyes grows more intense.
Breathing exercises help, but sometimes in my weakest moments, there’s no stopping the grief from swallowing me whole.
When the call starts a third time, it’s enough.
“Answer the phone!” I snap.
Marco’s deep voice echoes around us. “Raf, what’s going on?”
He answers the call on his wireless earbuds instead of his car’s Bluetooth. I am intrigued by the man on the other end, so I control the volume of the audiobook from my phone, turning it down. Even with just a hollow whisper through Marco’s earbuds, there’s no missing his commanding response.
“You better be on your way to the office. And if you’re not, turn the car around and get here. We may have a problem.”
It’s the distraction I need from the rising panic I felt earlier.
I can’t explain it, but the directness and commanding intonation of this man talking to Marco thrills me in a way I stopped chasing.
Marco says nothing, just sets his eyes on the road and locks his jaw; the slight jump tells me he’s grinding his molars given the man on the other end seems to have hung up before he’s had the chance to respond.
Unable to help myself, I lean forward, poking my head between the seats and tugging on his sleeve.
Marco quickly glances down, and a wicked grin spreads across my face in response.
“Please tell me I get to meet Big Bad Raf now.”
Marco simply raises his eyebrows at me as the incessant pinging of notifications reminds me that I saw a message flash up earlier from Kitten.
Even without the telling nickname, the way this guy has put up a brick wall to stop every single one of my flirty advances tells me there’s some lucky lady that he’s completely gone for.
We’re going to be spending a lot of time together; I may as well give him a crash course in no-filter Chiara.
“Oh, before I forget, you had a whole bunch of messages come through before you got in the car, the last one from someone called Kitten. Very cute nickname,” I hum conspiratorially.
He swipes his thumb across his lips as if to wipe away the secretive smile that’s pulling at the corner of his mouth but says nothing more.
He goes to touch his phone screen in the holder, but he stops himself, as if the beeping and chaos of Manhattan traffic we’ve just pulled into reminds him it’s probably not safe to do so.
I can’t help but continue to study his features.
Piercing green eyes not dissimilar to mine and AJs, strong nose, chiseled jawline.
Beyond his extremely good looks, there’s something oddly familiar about this guy, not to mention he’s wearing a necklace that I swear has the Gigioliotti family crest on it.
Except when I quizzed him on it earlier, he didn’t give even the slightest indication that he knew the significance of the necklace in my family.
Though I didn’t miss the closeness between him and AJ at brunch.
My cousin trusts very few people, but it’s clear he has an affinity for Marco and that he’s earned a spot in his inner circle of trust. What’s unclear is why.
Something tells me that this guy is not merely some driver; there is something more there, and when I have a quiet moment, Siri and I are going to get to work investigating just who the real Marco is.
But before that, I can’t wait to meet the surly sir who’s been blowing up Marco’s phone all morning.
I’m itching to have a bit of fun, and something tells me I might have found my number one target.