Chapter one Caterina
“Mycarissimo.”
Despite myself, my lips twist up in a wry smile as my father’s voice echoes through the phone. Pressing it to my ear, I glance around as I make my way through the campus.
“Papa. How is everyone?”
He coughs down the phone, the phlegm from his throat clogging up his voice as he speaks. “Bunch of assholes, always wanting more. Matteo è proprio un cagacazzo.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. My cousin Matteo is indeed a fucking asshole. “What did he do now?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Papa sighs. “The Fuscos have been getting into things they shouldn’t. I had to get involved. Watch your back.”
Pausing at the edge of the cream-colored building, I frown. “Anything I need to be aware of?”
He clicks his tongue. “I want you to concentrate on why you’re there, carissimo. Plenty of time for the rest when you’re home.”
“Papa,” I fight to keep my voice even. “You know it doesn’t work like that. How am I supposed to run things here if you’re keeping information from me? The Fusco heir ishere. It puts me at a disadvantage.”
“Bah.” I can hear him waving his damn hand, the same way he does every time he decides there’s something that I don’t need to know. I catch myself grinding my teeth and clamp my lips together. “That’s life, Caterina. You don’t always have all the answers. You work with what you have. In my day, we didn’t have any of these politics.”
My eyes squeeze shut, my grip on the phone tightening.
“Caterina,” his voice is chastising. “This is your role.”
My jaw clenches as the call cuts off.
Well, that’s fucking irritating.
My mood doesn’t improve as I storm across the campus. I purposely stalk straight down the border line, maintaining eye contact with a couple of Morellis on the other side until they look down.
A dangerous game, but an amusing one.
Pausing before the red-brick building, I take a deep breath.
I need a clear head. My father might be thecapo dei capi, the leader and head of the American mafia, but here, all eyes are on me. His one and only female heir.
Assessing. Judging.
Catching my reflection in the mirrored glass of the front doors, I cast a quick eye over my appearance, making sure there’s nothing out of place. My hands don’t move to flatten my hair. I don’t lean forward to confirm the wings of my eyeliner are perfect.
Caterina Corvo isalwaysperfect.
In public, at least.
Chapter two Caterina
Agang of crows is called a murder.
And as my scarlet heels jab down into the soaked carpet, the moniker has never felt so appropriate.
“The crows are circling,” I murmur, and the circle in front of me parts. Dom turns. He scans me, his mouth tightening, but he doesn’t mention my lateness as I step up beside him, my eyes on the body responsible for the dark red liquid beneath my feet.
It twists, and my mouth curls up as I glance at Dom. “You left something for me? How kind.”
The man – and he is a man in our world, despite the slight puffiness in his cheeks that signify the last vestiges of his teen years – opens his eyes with a wheeze, flickering them around until they land on me, widening with recognition.
His choke sends a large clot of blood flying from his mouth, and I glance down with mild disinterest as it spatters next to my shoes.
