It makes zero sense.
He’s hiding something.
I lean forward. “Dad?”
He sighs and checks his phone. “She’s here. Be nice. Pour her a glass of wine and try to enjoy it.”
“Sure.” I lick my lips.
That’s like asking someone to enjoy a root canal.
Dad gets up and walks around his desk, then puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Tell me you can do this. Tell me you can not only be my heir but unite the Families. Tell me you won’t rebel… for once in your life.”
I put my hand on his, my words heavy. “I won’t fail.”
“Good.” He nods. “Very good.” His footsteps are heavy across the hardwood floor before I hear the door open and him call over his shoulder. “You have five minutes.”
Five minutes until my life changes forever.
Five minutes to digest the shame that washes over me in panicked waves like I’m drowning in the ocean.
Five minutes to come to the conclusion that I will live forever in a loveless marriage and that the one rule you’re given once you say those vows is to never cheat on the woman you’ve sworn to protect.
And yet I’ll let her do exactly that—because I love her.
In that single moment, I realize… in five minutes, I’ll be celibate for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.
I’ll never laugh over dinner and hold my biological daughter or son close and wonder if they look more like me or more like her.
Because I can’t. I can’t sleep with her knowing she’s with him.
So if she gets pregnant, everyone wins.
And I get to help raise someone else’s son as if he’s my own.
It’s too heavy to think about.
I want to vomit.
Instead, I stare straight ahead at my dad’s chair, knowing one day I’ll fill it and that my sacrifice is for the greater good of the Five—no Six Families.
It was always going to come down to this, wasn’t it?
I pulled the short straw.
I close my eyes. Inhale. Exhale.
It had to be me.
Because who else could it be?
I had a sudden vision of grabbing the invisible crown off my head and setting it on fire. Instead, I feel its weight. I relish the pain. And I breathe.
I have one minute left.
I stand.
I turn and face the door.
I count my steps.
And I reach for the knob, taking a reassuring breath and whispering, “Time for my engagement party.”
Nobody sees the tear that slides down my cheek before I open the door, just like nobody hears the sound of my heart breaking as it slams against the floor.
I walk out of that room different.
I will never be the same.
If I want to survive.
I can’t be.
I’m King Campisi.
And the cross is almost too much to bear.
Chapter Two
“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.” —Edgar Allan Poe
Del
I’m so nervous I want to puke.
King still hasn’t shown up.
I know this is one of those days where we have a serious talk about what our future looks like and how things are going to work out. It’s going to get complicated, but he did promise me.
He promised nothing would change.
And it was the only promise I needed, that I could still love Roman. Even though I knew we couldn’t get married now, at least I could have him.
He’d been so pissed when I gave him his ring back, and then he’d cried, gotten drunk, yelled, apologized, then asked if there was any way we could run away together.
Instead, I ran toward King.
It was the only way to save my family and the only way to strengthen theirs. Everything was a power play, and we were nothing but pawns in that game.
I asked my uncle a week ago if I had a choice. He seemed so confused by the question itself that I already knew the answer. As he stared at my left hand, my engagement ring burned on my finger. When my dad died, when my other uncle died, I knew in my soul I would take over my Family.
Until my last uncle, rose up and took the throne.
Now I’m screwed.
Now my life is not my own.
My story is already written.
I never imagined when I said yes to Roman that I would, a week later, be handing back that small diamond ring and telling him that I couldn’t marry the pauper anymore. No, I was marrying the prince himself.
Roman had grown up poor; his dad was still working on becoming a made man. We met by accident, Roman and I. We met when I got in a fight with my boyfriend at the time and ran across my yard and tripped, nearly landing headfirst in one of the gorgeous fountains on my father’s property.
Roman caught me when I stumbled, and I swear my world went into slow motion as he twirled me in his arms and looked down at my face. “Not the intro I was waiting for, but I’ll take it.” He winked.
And I nearly died.
He had jet-black hair, the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and his smile was devastating as he set me on my feet and announced, “One day, I’m going to propose to you at this fountain.” He tilted my chin toward him. “And you’re going to say yes.”
“Who the hell are you?” I jerked back.
He shrugged. “Your future husband.” Then he held out his arm. “Want to go for a walk?”
And that was it.
Literally.
We saw each other every day after that.
Until I gave him his ring back.
His dad recently died, and now Roman was a captain for my family, the Buratti Family, working his way up to a made man and more.
I am so damn proud of him in his black suit as he stands next to my uncle, staying close just in case someone tries to carry out another ridiculous assassination attempt.
Lately, it seemed like everyone was trying to kill my family.
My long-lost uncle was powerful in Sicily, but here in the states? Here people just wanted what he had, which was control over several of the cities in Italy. He had more power than local authorities and all because he cared about the people. But he got hungry.
So hungry.
Mom died.
Dad changed, then died.
And my uncle? He followed suit.
Until the final heir rose to the occasion—the uncle that never really gave a shit—and took the crown I was owed. After all that work. All that blood. I still ended up being a pawn in a game I never wanted a part of.
My uncle suddenly wanted more than cities.
He wanted it all.
And there I stood, helping him.
Taking a ring off my finger and replacing it with a heavier one, because what freaking choice did I have? Do I have?
Roman looks over at me and nods his head once.
I jerk my chin toward the bathroom.
He blinks slowly.
I don’t need anything but him.
Nearly falling off my heels, I make my way to the bathroom, open the door, and step inside. Then I close the door and wait for his knock.
He knocks twice.
I jerk open the door, grab him, and pull him in, kissing him as he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs wide so he can walk between them.
“I missed you,” I say between kisses.
“I’m dying for you. Where’s this King guy anyway?”
“Late.” I kiss him harder. “I know it sounds weird, but you’ll like him. Plus, we came up with a sort of arrangement.”