PROLOGUE
Anastasia
Loud voices penetrated the hallway, shouts indicating heightened anger.
My father’s usually deep baritone wavered in intensity, his frustration growing. My brother had to be involved. He was one of the few people who could create havoc in the family.
I stood in the shadows, my grip on the stairway railing white knuckled.
Something was going on, something that frightened me and I didn’t even know what could be wrong. I only knew tension and silence was replacing our family’s usual laughter.
“Miss Scavullo, I have mail for you.”
Jumping, I pulled away from the banister, heat rising across my face. Just then, I heard the doorbell. A visitor on a Sunday. Very unusual.
My personal assistant reached out for my arm. When I finally looked in her direction, her nod was meant as a reminder that I had no place in the world of my father’s business. I was a girl, no one special in the eyes of the Cosa Nostra.
Sighing, I headed to my room, Sophia dutifully following. She closed the door behind me as I headed to the window. Whoever had arrived for a visit with my father and brother was important enough to have bodyguards. Burly men stood by a fancy black sedan.
As soon as I pressed my hand against the glass, one guard noticed movement and tilted his head toward me.
My God. Even from where I stood on the second floor, I noticed a horrific scar cutting an ugly line down one side of his face. A moment of terror skittered down my spine. What was my father doing? I backed away, fighting a wave of terror I hadn’t known for a very long time. There was always a sense of danger even in my sheltered world, but given my father’s power, I’d always been protected.
At least for the most part.
Why did it feel as if everything was about to change?
“Ms. Scavullo. Your mail.”
Her voice was even more insistent than before.
“Sophia. Please call me Anastasia. We are friends. No?” I adored Sophia. She’d been with me for years. My maid. My assistant. My surrogate mother since mine wanted nothing to do with me. Frustrated, I backed away from the window, taking quick steps to my vanity. I’d had it since I was a little girl, a piece of furniture reminding me of my princess status. For some reason, thethought angered me as I sat down on the velvet stool, grabbing my jeweled hairbrush, the rubies glistening in the bright lights surrounding the mirror.
A gift from my father.
After spinning it in my fingers, I raked the brush through my long curls. I hated my curly hair and had tried unsuccessfully for years to make it straight. As with everything else in my miserable, sequestered life, it had been a complete failure.
She shook her head vehemently. “Your mama would not approve.”
To hell with my mother. Even as the ugly thought drifted into my mind, I was already prepared to confess my sins at morning mass. Which I did with frequency. At this rate, our priest must consider me a terrible person.
When I opened my mouth to retort, Sophia offered a one of her rather infamous chastising looks. Highly effective as well as frustrating, yet I honored her wishes. “What is the letter?” I had no friends, especially any far enough away who would take the time or find the necessity to write me a letter.
I continued brushing my hair, frustrated by my unruly curls. Today was my birthday. It wasn’t every day a young lady turned sixteen.
Sadly, there would be no party, merely dinner with my family and only if Papa wasn’t too busy.
“It’s from America.”
Instantly, I froze, peering at her in the mirror. “America?”
Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t do it.
“Yes. Yes.” Excitement brightened her eyes and her hand was shaking as she held out the crisp white envelope. Swiveling in my chair, I stared at it for several seconds before finding the courage to take it from her fingers.
At first, I didn’t look at the return address, fearful I would pass out.
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Scavullo. This is what you’ve been waiting for.”
