CHAPTER ONE
vittoria
"Remember what I said,"my father hisses as he helps me out of the car. His hand tightens around mine; not enough to hurt—he's not stupid enough to leave marks before an important meeting—but enough to send a warning. "Do not mess this up, Vittoria."
I swallow hard, forcing a smile that feels like broken glass on my face. "Of course," I snap back, my tone sharper than I intended.
Fuck.
His eyes narrow, and for a moment I think he's going to backhand me right here on the gravel driveway. Instead, he says nothing as we approach the grand entrance of the Mariano Estate. Each ascent up the expensive stone front steps brings us closer to my personal hell.
I smooth down my emerald green dress, feeling the weight of everyone's expectations crushing my shoulders. This isn't just some dinner party. It's a fucking show, and I'm the star attraction; the sacrificial lamb being served up to secure a powerful alliance between two crime families that spans across both sides of the Atlantic Ocean.
I'm the pawn being moved across the board, and everyone knows it.
Part of me is glad I'm moving halfway across the world. My father isn't exactly father of the year. The man gets rough when things don't go his way, and I've been his favorite punching bag since I could walk. My brothers are older, broader, taller than him. They can fight back now. Me? I'm still small enough for him to throw around when he needs to blow off steam.
I'm going to miss Alastríona the most. She's been my best friend since we were little girls. God, being in a different time zone is going to kill me. Not speaking to her every day? That's going to be even worse.
As we reach the ornate double doors, I take a deep breath and steel myself for what's coming. The butler greets us with a polite nod and ushers us into a foyer that screams money. It looks like something out of a fucking museum; cold, lifeless, and meant to intimidate.
"Domenico!" The voice is cold and detached as he calls out to my father. I turn toward the sound and come face to face with my soon-to-be husband, Cesare Mariano, head of the Mariano family. "Vittoria," he greets with a slight nod.
"Mr. Mariano," I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the nerves eating at my stomach. I've been taught to respect my elders, to obey what a man says. I know our world. I know exactly how women are supposed to behave in it.
His eyes appraise me like I'm a prize mare at auction. He runs his gaze down my body, and it takes everything in me not to recoil. The fucking pig. He turns to my father, and they begin talking quietly. I tune them out.
Cesare is forty-two. He lost his wife last year to some crazed asshole who was taking out powerful families around the world. Beatrice Mariano had been married to Cesare for twenty-one years. They had six children together. The eldest, Lorenzo, istwenty. Then the twins, Ciro and Elisabetta, are almost nineteen. Giovanni is eighteen. The two youngest are Sofia and Valentina, who are seventeen and sixteen.
I'm set to marry this man. After the chaos that went down last year, Cesare and the rest of the Boston Elite Syndicate needed to strengthen their ties with the criminal underworld. One of their own went on a killing spree, and now they need to rebuild trust and power.
Lucky me, I drew the short fucking straw.
Cesare's hand finds the small of my back and he guides me deeper into the mansion. I resist the urge to shrug it off, knowing my father's watching every move I make.
"Come, let me introduce you to the children," Cesare says, his voice still cold as winter.
We enter a lavish sitting room where five of his kids are seated. Their conversations die the moment we walk in, all eyes turning to me. I recognize them from the files I've studied: Lorenzo, the twins Ciro and Elisabetta, Giovanni, and Sofia. Valentina, the youngest, is missing.
"Children," Cesare announces, "this is Vittoria, my future wife."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence. I force my smile wider, ignoring the looks of disgust and curiosity aimed my way. Lorenzo, the eldest, steps forward first. He's handsome. He’s got his father's strong jaw and dark eyes. Those eyes now look at me with pure contempt.
"Welcome to our home," he says, his tone clipped and sharp. "I hope you'll find it... comfortable."
I nod, knowing full well he means the opposite. This isn't just their home, it's about to become my gilded cage.
The twins approach next. Mirror images with blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Ciro's handshake is firm, almost challenging,like he's testing how much pressure I can take. Elisabetta's is limp and dismissive, like I'm not worth the effort.
Giovanni hangs back, his gaze analytical, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. Sofia, the youngest here, doesn't even try to hide her disgust. Good for her. At least she's honest.
As Cesare leads me around the room, making stilted introductions, I can't stop wondering where Valentina is. Is she hiding, revolted by the idea of meeting her father's child bride? Has she found a way to escape this suffocating dinner?
I fucking envy her, wherever she is.
As Cesare's hand tightens possessively on my waist, I realize my own chance at escape died long ago. I'm in the lion's den now, and there's no going back.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife as we move toward the dining area. I feel his children's eyes boring into my back. Their snide remarks about me being a whore and a gold digger are said in Italian. They think I don't speak the language.
