1
MIA
Marble cracked beneath my heels like gunfire as I cut across the grand hall of my cousin’s wedding reception, trying not to choke on dread.Bystanders weren’t watching with fondness.They were sticking around to discover what kind of humiliation I’d cause.In our world, weddings weren’t about love; they were about leverage.
The Moretti name bought power, not happiness, and I’d learned early on that love was a luxury even people like me couldn’t afford.Every polished smile, every perfect petal, every drop of gold glittered because someone paid for the illusion.Every single person in this room had ulterior motives for their attendance.
Across the ballroom, my father laughed with his men—easy smile, full glass, the picture of charm.But I knew better.That laugh was armor.The louder he laughed, the darker the deal behind it.As his daughter, I’d seen the worst of him.Hell, I still had nightmares from seeing him covered in blood coming home when I was five.It’d been difficult to separate my father into two different versions of himself.The powerful leader of the family and the loving father.
I peered across the room at my cousin—the bride—radiant in white lace; her smile somehow still soft despite everything she’d lost.Her father.Her brother.The violence we calledbusiness.Even so, she glowed beneath the chandeliers.
Her husband spun her across the floor.For a heartbeat, she looked safe.Happy.Thatwas the dream, wasn’t it?Not castles, not crowns—just safety.But her marriage wasn’t all fairytale.It was strategy, survival.In our world, enemies didn’t just destroy; they possessed.
The one thing about her husband, they’d been friends for years.He might take over his family’s empire, but he’d always had feelings for her.So when it came time to settle down, he wouldn’t marry anyone else.At the very least, he’d spend their lives proving his worthiness to her.Maybe one day, I’d be as lucky.
God, what a twisted life we lived.Sometimes I begged for an explanation of why I was born a Moretti—the darkness, the blood, the endless games dressed up as celebration.I wanted something pure.But part of me, the part I hated most, was drawn to power.The danger.The man who could ruin me with a touch and make me thank him for it.
Did I aspire to be loved—or owned?Maybe both.Maybe that was the sickness in my bloodline.
Enrico had been chasing after me for five years and still hadn’t grown tired.Yet, he was the type of man that scared the shit out of me.All the blood he had on his hands… not exactly the type of man I wanted to sleep next to.Although, he had a way of making my entire body quiver when he entered the room.
Meredith, one of the house servers, appeared beside me, worry flickering across her face.
“You okay, ma’am?Can I get you anything?”
Her concern made me flush.“I’m fine.”
I turned toward the tall doors at the back of the hall, desperate for air.Tonight’s events were messing with my head.It was my turn next.Marriage.Enrico would come for me now and he’d get what he wanted.My father always put business first.After all, my marriage was just a business transaction made to make our family stronger.As it had been for generations.
“Your cousin has done well,” my father said, eyes glinting with ambition.“An alliance strengthened through marriage.So glad she found a man willing.Men can be so picky these days.Nothing like it used to be.”
The words were a reminder.A warning.I schooled my face into calm, though my chest tightened.He stood as the embodiment of our legacy—his expectation that I’d follow the same path looming like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.
“Yes, they love each other, at least.”
“Love is a rare luxury,” he replied, gaze holding mine.“You understand this.”
My heart rebelled even as my head nodded.How could I tell him I wanted something else?That I craved love, not strategy?
“Si, Papa.”
Satisfied, he turned back to the guests.I faded into the background again, another ornament in a gilded cage.My chest continued to wind tight.I thought I had more time.Now, all eyes were on me.I reached for the door handle to the outside—freedom, or at least a breath of it—when a voice stopped me once more.
“Leaving so soon, Mia?”
Enrico Di Fiore.No one else made my heartbeat stumble like that.He stood tall, sharp suit, danger carved into every line of him.His eyes found mine and held, dark and unreadable, as if he could see every secret I’d ever tried to bury.It’d be much easier to resist his advances if he didn’t look like the poster boy for dark and dangerous.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.He was the last person I needed to see right now while on the verge of a panic attack.“I’m gonna step outside..”
Enrico’s smile curved.“How about you stay with me?”
He offered his hand.Not a question—an order dressed as courtesy.The orchestra swelled, as if the night itself were holding its breath.I should have refused.Kept him on his toes.Instead, I placed my hand in his.The contact burned, electric.He drew me onto the center of the floor.His palm settled against the small of my back—steady, claiming—and the waltz caught us, soft and treacherous.
Every motion saidminewithout a word spoken.Typical Enrico fashion.
This was dangerous.A ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.I wanted him to rip my clothes off and just take me in front of everyone, but that was crazy.But somehow, when he came around me, common sense went out the window.
The crowd blurred; and there Enrico stood.His dark eyes, his deliberate breathing, the faint edge of ink that disappeared beneath his cuff.
