"How old are you, Sarah?"
Tears spring to her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just really nice to hear someone say my name," she says. And then she adds, “I’m fourteen."
My heart feels like it's made of jagged glass. It slices up my insides with every breath I take.
"I'm going to get you out of here," I vow to her. "Even if it's the last thing I do."
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” She reaches for one of the glass vials beside her. She sprinkles some sandalwood oil into the water. The sweet, earthy scent almost masks the stench of evil that clings to these walls.
"I give you my word," I say to her.
3
DANTE
Ican't stand these social gatherings. From the shallow conversations to the fake smiles, every part of it grates on me.
I hear my name being whispered as I move through the crowd.
Dante Mancini.
Their eyes track me as I walk past them. I school my features to mask my growing irritation.
A server balancing a tray of champagne flutes halts before me.
"Would you care for a drink, sir?" he asks.
I shake my head.
From the corner of my eye, I see someone trying to wave and catch my attention. I purposely turn my body away so I don't have to deal with anyone's nonsense.
Crime lords, cartel leaders, and corrupt billionaires gather at these events to size each other up. Everything's always about business. And ever since I ascended into power, I've been in demand.
They've all been introducing their daughters to me in the hopes of forming an alliance. I spent the better part of the lasthour trying to get out of arranged marriage proposals without offending anyone.
There's a beep in my right ear. I tap my smart watch to accept the call.
"Capo, the flower delivery is here,” Enzo, myconsigliere, says into my Bluetooth earphone.
I check my watch again. "At this time?"
"Sì."
“Okay, I'll receive it."
I hang up and head straight toward the elevators. Every time I get a “flower delivery,” it means I have to drop everything I'm doing to make a call. And to make this call, I need privacy.
I take the elevator all the way to the rooftop.
As I step into the afternoon sunlight, the scent of chlorine tickles the inside of my nostrils. The glare from the blue swimming pool is nearly blinding.
A security guard in a black suit breaks from his post and heads straight for me.
"Sir, the rooftop is off-limits for guests," he says. He falters slightly when he recognizes me.
