I blink, forcing my eyes to focus on the monster who just killed my mother and who sold me to be a whore.
“You need to know, Tommaso was using you,” my father says almost gently. “He never wanted you. Not the way you thought and hoped. He was using you…wanting you to be his whore.”
I shake my head in denial, even though the motion makes me almost vomit. “No. He…he…”
“Loves you?” Father mocks. “See for yourself, naïve, stupid girl.”
It takes a moment for me to focus on what he’s holding in front of me. And when I do, I break. Tommaso promised he’d never break me, but that picture does the trick.
It’s a news article with a picture of a stunning couple. Tommaso looks his otherworldly handsome self, powerful, wearing a tuxedo with his hair perfectly styled. He’s looking down at the woman on his arm.
She’s as gorgeous as him. As elegant, refined, and poised as Santa Elisabetta drilled into us in her stunning, haute couture white dress.
Rosa Altera.
If there was a small piece of my heart that hadn’t been broken and bleeding, the headline utterly decimates it.
San Francisco’s Most Sought-After King Has Found His Queen.
Tommaso is marrying Rosa…or maybe they’re already married, given his tux and her white dress.
His wife.
She’s his wife.
Not me.
No, Tommaso was only trying to fuck me, to make me his sidepiece. His whore to be hidden like a dirty secret while he paraded his queen—the woman who was a somebody and had something to offer him to increase his power and wealth—out in public for all the world to see.
No more tears fall as I entirely break.
And I embrace the blackness that engulfs me.
Chapter 14
Tommaso
I’msittinginmydowntown headquarters, fuming.
Marco had successfully gotten the picture and article about my engagement pulled; however, the damage was already done. I just prayed that Gina didn’t see it before I could explain what’s going on.
That I’m, in fact,notengaged, but being coerced by my own father of all people, into an arranged marriage that willnothappen.
The past few days have been hell, not only because I couldn’t see Gina, but because the Altera family is worse than I expected. Spending time with them has been a true test of my patience. Rosa is a conniving bitch; I wouldn’t put it past her to be the one responsible for the news article and picture after we went to the fundraising dinner. And Arturo is a snake. His oldest son and heir, Camillo, who is roughly my age, is only slightly better than his sister and father. He traveled here with them, and I know it was because they found out Emanuele and Vincenzo were here and wanted to snoop around to find out why.
Vincenzo called me today, saying his father’s heart condition was acting up, and that they needed to head back to Catanzaro immediately. I still don’t know why they were here or why they stayed so long, and that makes me uneasy.
I push back from my desk and go to the window overlooking the bay. It’s dark, and the only lights come from the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ve felt uneasy all night. All day, if I’m truthful.
Like something is wrong, and I don’t know it yet.
I go back to my desk and try to call Davide again. I spoke with him this morning, for my regular check-in about Gina, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since.
Silvio was in San Francisco for meetings, and I sent him to Caruso’s house to investigate.
I could speak with Salvo, the guard captain, or one of the other guards stationed there, but Davide is my direct line regarding Gina, and I don’t want to involve more people than I already have.
My phone rings, slashing the silence of my office, and I see Silvio’s name on the display. I answer immediately, but he doesn’t even give me a chance to say hello.
