Ravenna:
See you then.
Hm. So he didn’t get his information from my sister. I suppose it doesn’t matter how he came by it, I won’t let him manipulate me like this.
I can’t give him that kind of control over me. It’s a slippery slope from ball gowns and bookcases to who knows what dark, depraved end he has in mind for me.No, I won’t let this happen.
Closing the closet door, I step into the middle of the bedroom and stare at my surroundings.
This is a cage.
A very pretty cage, but no different in function than the one those men kept me in.
My chest clenches. Coming home was a terrible mistake. I need to leave before it’s too late. Before I’m trapped here forever. Until then, I have to make Maximo believe I’ll be good.
CHAPTER 4
Elena
The dress looks as stunning draped over me as I imagined it would. I’m all done up with hair and makeup, but I can’t bring myself to be truly excited about it. Maximo, dressed in a black suit, sits beside me in the car, focused on his phone as he ignores me, and I feel trapped. Why do I even have to accompany him to this event? I’m no one in this world—not any longer.
More importantly, I don’t want tobeanyone in this mafia world. Anonymity suits me just fine. It’s a shield against those who would try to use me for their own purposes. I intend to keep that protection intact.
The car pulls up to the curb and stops. I glance out the window to find we’re in front of an elegant hotel. Couples filter in through the front doors held open by men in matching uniforms and caps.
Before I can reach for the car door handle, Maximo’s already rounded the vehicle and offering me his hand. I stare at it for a long moment. As much as I’d like to refuse him, my upbringing won’t let me forget my manners that easily. Not in this situation. Not where people can see us.
Reluctantly, I slip my palm into his and heat sears across my hand. My fingers tingle. He helps me to stand, then takes my hand and places it in the crook of his elbow. His body heat presses into me, his spicy cologne teases my senses, and for some stupid reason I don’t hate it.
Without a word, he leads us through the main doors to a sparkling marble lobby. From there, we follow the train of stunningly dressed people walking along a wide hallway to a decadent ballroom.
Maximo guides us through the crowd. Plucking a flute of champagne from a passing server, he hands it to me. Hesitantly, I take it from him. Our fingers brush. It’s impossible to grasp such a delicate glass from his large hands without touching him. I ignore the zing that goes straight through my body like a bolt of lightning, and down half the glass in one go. He arches a brow in question, but thankfully doesn’t comment.
“Why are we here?” I ask, nervously surveying the crowd.
For once, Maximo actually answers my question. “This is Enzo Casella’s birthday party. Everyone who’s important is here for it. We’re here to mingle, see, and be seen.”
Oh. I sigh. Once upon a time, I used to love parties. Especially big, decadent, sparkling ones like tonight. I always knew the right thing to say, acted most appropriately, and socialized with whomever my parents wanted to impress. I was a jewel, the eldest daughter of a powerful mafia family, with a bright future.
They raised me to be their perfect princess. Pretty, polite, and pleasing. That was me. My only purpose in life.
Then my entire world imploded. All their lies came crashing down on me and my sister. I was nothing special to them. As soon as I disappeared, they put my sister in my place and continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t gone missing.
These people don’t care about me. They never have and never will.
I feel adrift in this room full of strangers. I no longer belong here among them, yet I can’t escape them either.
“There’s some people I want you to meet.” Maximo ushers me further into the room, toward a group of three men. They turn and I immediately recognize all three, even though I let him make the introductions. “Elena, this is Lazaro Achilli, my underboss. And his sons Niccolò and Dario. I believe you’re acquainted.”
I nod in greeting, forcing a thin smile. We’re more than acquaintances, Lazaro was my father’s underboss. His sons used to spend time with my older brother.
Lazaro scans me. “You’ve grown up, Miss Pontrelli. Nice to see you again.”
Something about the way he speaks sets me on edge. I stiffen and Maximo shoots me a questioning glance, which I ignore.
“Nice to see you again too, sir,” I offer in a polite tone.
Thankfully, Maximo leads me away from them. When we’re out of earshot he asks, “What’s wrong?”
