PROLOGUE
ELARA
Everyone says I have my mother’s golden eyes. Lion eyes, my baby sister Mira pointed out once while watching a nature documentary. She pointed at the screen, then at me, then at herself, and last at our mother.We’ve got eyes like a lion.
Now, the gold in Mom’s eyes is more like fire. She paces the kitchen, chewing her thumbnail even though it’s already down to a stub. Outside, the night is black.
Anything could be out there.Anyone. But I don’t have to play guessing games.
There’s only one person who wants to ruin my life.
“I don’t understand why you’d pass on this opportunity,” she says, exasperated. “You’ve worked so hard. And you have talent, Elle, genuine talent. The gallery is ready to show the city, to show theworld.”
In the next room, the TV plays loudly, one of Mira’s favorite shows. She’s up past her bedtime because she was supposed tocome to the gallery viewing too. Everyone dressed and ready to go.
I want it so badly, I want to make all of this worth it. Ever since I was a kid and Mom bought me my first camera, I’ve dreamed of something like this happening.
But that was before Lucian Conti, prince of the Conti mafia, made me the object of his sick, fucked-up, life-ruining perversion. Before he got it into his twisted and just plain wrong head that I belong to him somehow, just because I smiled at him once.
Mom lays her hands on the table, aims those lion eyes at me. “Enough.”
“Enough?” I rasp, hating how small my voice sounds.
Is this what he’s done, whittled me down to a stub, turned me into someone I never would’ve recognized just a few months ago?
“Something’s going on, Elle,” Mom says sternly. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Now this…” She waves a hand at the window, as if to say,Your destiny is out there and you’re letting it pass you by.“Please, tell me.”
I open my mouth, try to force the words out, to tell her that while gigging at an event, I made eye contact with a spoiled mafia prince named Lucian, and that he came on to me when he approached me. I told him no. I could tell her that men like Lucian don’t take no for an answer, and that he’s insane and rotten down to his core. That he thinks I owe him something just because I hurt his pride.
She pulls up a chair and takes my hand. “Oh, Elle, look at you. You’re shaking.”
The note is practically burning a hole in my pocket.
I’ll burn down that gallery, you stupid slut. You think you’re some career bitch, eh? We’ll see about that. You’re MY bitch now.
That’s the reason I can’t go. He might be bluffing…or he could be telling the truth.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“Sissy!”
I turn at the sound of Mira’s voice. She’s on Dad’s shoulder, pretty as a peach in her gold ruffled dress, a similar shade to her—to our—eyes. Dad’s wearing his best suit, an unsure smile on his face. He raises an eyebrow at Mom. Mom shakes her head at his unspoken question.
“Hey, you,” Dad says, lifting Mira off his shoulder and cradling her in his arms. “How about we watchanotherepisode, huh?”
“It’s so late!” Mira says, giggling.
“Is that a no?”
“No, silly, it’s amegayes.”
Dad chuckles, but the corner of his mouth tugs. He glances at me sadly.
“Elle,” Mom shuffles her chair closer. “You’ve been withdrawn. The other day, I closed the fridge door, and you flinched, sweetness.Flinched. Whatever’s happening?—”
A car alarm blares from the front of the house.
Something in me finally snaps. The rage I’ve kept buried under layers of fear finally surges forward. I leap to my feet, fists clenched, as the alarm screams through the house.
