Chapter 1
foresight to build a legacy
brOOKLYN
I preferred heat in my life. Like a piece of coal, I maintained my passion by sticking close with those in my orbit, namely my family. Without a boyfriend or husband, I used my family to remain white-hot. Not that doing so was without pressure.
Indeed, my ability to withstand the pressure only left me with the promise that one day I’d be a diamond. Something flawless that sparkled with the precision of its facets in the way a brilliant diamond did.
Like the diamond I held in my hands.
A three-carat natural round diamond pendant.
It sparkled like a collection of a million frozen tears, suspended from a yellow gold link chain necklace that would only set ablaze the collarbone in which it’d sit.
The irony of how I’d cried a million of my own tears on the walk over was not lost on me.
The closeness I maintained with my family tended to bring about tears like that occasionally. See, if I was the piece of coal I saw myself as being, then it would’ve been easy to crumble under pressure. Pressure applied by my parents.
Pressure to rescue them.
Pressure to keep them financially stable.
Pressure to live up to their every ridiculous expectation.
Because I was resilient, I was holding steady, standing firm against my harsh realities.
One day I would become this diamond. This diamond I longed to have grace my neck, radiating so brightly that everything else would pale in comparison to it, even my own skin.
Although perhaps not my long, honey-blonde hair that I wore ribbon-straight or in soft waves.
Unfortunately, neither desire would come to pass. Not today and likely not tomorrow. My father, Raf Briggs, had other plans, as he notoriously did, and it had everything to do with our family’s position and fortune.
Thanks to the economy and his lousy business acumen, the equestrian centers he owned in Saratoga Springs, New York and Wellington, Florida were struggling.
He didn’t think I understood the full extent of financial pain he’d been experiencing, but it wasn’t hard to comprehend that he had painted himself into a corner.
Investors were all about the bottom line, which was tremendously unimpressive.
They were unforgiving and emotionless, even more robotic than banks.
They didn’t want to help, didn’t want to get involved, and didn’t care.
After all, that was the glowing problem—empathy.
Most everyone lacked it, especially in relation to money.
Green was a truly powerful color.
The best decision he had made in recent times for the equestrian center in Wellington was hiring Nathaniel Lyons, son of Robert and Mitzy Lyons and brother to Reddington Lyons.
Their family held a spectacular reputation that came with the prestige my father yearned for.
Unfortunately, there were only a few families in our circle who had worked on garnering positive attention and making a name for themselves, one that would carry them well into the future.
The Lyons family was one, the Morellis another, and the Delucas, well, they were unreachable, like the pot of gold rumored to be at the end of a rainbow.
It seemed as though Santo Deluca, the patriarch, had everyone in his pocket. Then again, I supposed it could only be expected from someone who had spent most of his life clawing his way to the top of the pyramid.
In the same way everyone adored Cecilia Deluca, they held equal amounts of fear and respect for her husband.
My father was no different but was generous with his respect for him.
After all, Santo had presented a solution for the dire problem the equestrian centers were becoming.
My father was playing a dangerous game, a rigged game, but that didn’t stop him from playing, treading where most would’ve cowered at the risks.
As for Santo, it was likely the stench of desperation that drew him. Now it was my turn to go through with the plan and complete the transaction by securing my family’s future by marrying a Deluca son.
The saleswoman looked over from helping the customer she left me for. “You doing okay over there?” Her eyes glittered with confidence, uninhibited joy, and an unfamiliar autonomy.
I nodded, but in truth she should have only known I was far from okay. I put the necklace down on the velvet-covered pad on the glass and slinked out like mist at dawn.
Outside, I inhaled a deep breath of the air only being in New York City could offer. The cool air from inside the jewelry store still clung to my skin as though I was my own climate-defined region standing on the crowded street.
Jewels could be pawned without remorse, and apparently, so could I.
In an arranged marriage. To whom, I wasn’t exactly sure yet.
Apparently, that was an unnecessary detail.
Either that or I had left the unsettling meeting with my father too soon.
Not that I was entirely sure it mattered which Deluca I was to wed.
There were eight sons, all of whom I knew better than I probably should have.
However, being childhood friends with one of the youngest twin sisters, Capri, had its perks.
Which was how I knew two were out of the equation immediately, already spoken for.
Vito Deluca was the oldest. He was also the most like Santo.
Relentless, ambitious, merciless, and most important to the question of who I’d been promised to, married.
His wife, Elisabetta, better known as Lisa Marie, was made for him.
They were endgame, her loyalty seemingly unrelenting.
Theirs was what I perceived to be an intensely devoted love.
Like she’d take a bullet for him, and he would do the same.
Then there was Dominic Deluca. He was basically the outcast, choosing to model instead of work within the family fold.
So, he didn’t maintain any status with the company besides his shares, which granted him a vote when necessary.
Not only was he an unsuitable match for what my father was striving for, but he was also married.
He had tied the knot with his best friend, Maria Morelli, and started a family rather quickly.
They had a daughter and two sons, one of whom was a newborn.
The remaining six were single, thus fair game.
Rummaging through my faux snakeskin purse for a mint to slip past my pink-painted lips, the base of my skull tingled with the knowledge that I had walked out on my father, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience.
It wouldn’t be long before he sought me out.
Not that I made it difficult for him to find me.
He knew me well enough to know I’d be at this jewelry store.
I frequented it, opting to come here even if it meant merely window shopping.
It was my safe haven. Typically, my trips were with Capri, but this was impromptu, and she wasn’t due back from an upscale party in a stucco mansion in Southampton until later.
Not looking to careen in my nude pumps, I slowly walked to a wall and slouched against it, giving up my search for a mint.
It was pointless, just as continuing to ignore my fate would be.
I may as well have waited for my father to show up, so I could get on with the twisted arrangement he’d set up.
At least then I’d be in the town car he would no doubt be arriving in.
It beat ruining my shoes. I wasn’t lazy, only practical.
Not to mention, intelligent, since I made a habit of taking advantage of most situations. It was a gift, really.
This wouldn’t be my first time doing something inappropriate for the bigger, framed picture. A picture that, if literal, I would have enjoyed hurling and watching the glass shatter as it hit the ground. It would’ve been poetic for the way I felt about my life.
Scanning the crowd, I mindlessly placed a hand on my pear and oval diamond earrings.
They were a gift to myself after letting EJ Gray show me Las Vegas.
I had cozied up to him, and he had given me intel on the businesses on the Strip.
It had all been in the name of reporting back to my father.
I didn’t always know the point of what I was doing, but it practically served as a job, and the luxury of asking questions wasn’t mine.
Sometimes. I tried terribly to have a say in the matter, to be able to do as much research beforehand as possible.
Although there were times he was tight-lipped.
I could guarantee this would not be one of those times. If for no other reason than because I wouldn’t allow it.
I was marrying a stranger.
Sure, I knew of him, whoever he was, but that was drastically far from how I had imagined this going.
How I only imagined it would be the framework for a cadence of sorrow.
Committing myself to someone in front of friends, family, and the younger me, who I hoped every day wasn’t too disappointed in how she had turned out.
Did she understand why I did what I did?
Would she understand this? Not even a fourteen-carat white-gold diamond choker necklace would change things or make them better.
When I thought about the expectation put on me, my stomach twisted, and I tried not to consider how this would affect my future.
“Brooklyn.” The beckoning was dripping with so much contempt I would have been surprised if he wasn’t drowning in it in the back seat. I narrowed my gaze to the black town car. The window was rolled down about halfway, my father gesturing for me.