Chapter 3

Dominic called twenty minutes after I left the mansion.

“You burned the house down?” His voice was thick with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”

Lost my mind?

“You’ve known I was a lunatic since the day the Five Families signed off on this marriage.” I leaned back in the cab. “The mansion, and you—I don’t want either anymore.”

“Valentina—”

I hung up.

I went back to the Morandi estate.

Before I’d even had a chance to collect my thoughts, I was already standing at the door to my father’s study.

Enzo Morandi sat in that same Chesterfield leather chair. He was listening to one of his men report on a particular shipping route.

My father’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk. He noticed me in the doorway, lifted his chin, and the man shut his mouth immediately and left.

“You’re back?” He glanced up at me.

“I’m divorcing Dominic,” I said. Straight to the point.

He took off his glasses. “The Falcones control every port corridor on the Eastern Seaboard. Thirty percent of our shipments move through his docks.”

“You blow this up today, and tomorrow thirty families go hungry. Can you take that on?”

He didn’t even ask me why. Didn’t ask if I’d been hurt.

The only thing he cared about was the bottom line.

My voice began to shake. “He cheated on me, and you want me to just take it?”

“The adult world doesn’t run on tantrums.” My father’s tone didn’t waver. “Your marriage is not yours alone. I’ve seen too many families wiped out because someone acted on impulse.”

“You’re just like him.” I stared at him, and suddenly the whole thing struck me as absurd. “You make me sick.”

“Valentina!” He slammed his palm flat on the desk.

I turned and walked out of the study.

From this day forward, I had no one to lean on. Not Dominic. Not my father. Not anyone. Only myself.

Three days later. The Five Families’ annual charity gala.

On the surface, a philanthropic affair for high society. In reality, a yearly ritual of power: every family confirming its standing before the others. Everyone was there. Everyone was watching.

My father had left me no way out. The Morandi-Falcone marriage was the linchpin holding the peace between our two families. If I didn’t show, it was as good as announcing to the entire underworld that the treaty was void.

I carried my champagne through the crowd and spotted Dominic. He was back in the skin of the Velvet Glove.

Alessia Cardani stood beside him, her arm looped through his.

She saw me and walked over. One hand drifted, almost unconsciously, to rest on her stomach. “Valentina! I have some wonderful news to share.” She tilted her head with a little smile. “I’m carrying Dominic’s baby.”

Glances ricocheted around the room. Old Mrs. Cassano sipped her wine and pretended she hadn’t heard. Rosso, the head of his family, let a thin smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. He was enjoying the show.

I looked at Dominic. I needed an explanation.

“There are certain things, Valentina,” he said at last, “that you need to learn to accept. Mother has been growing more and more dissatisfied with you. She’s given me an ultimatum—I have to produce an heir within the next two years.”

How utterly rich.

Four years. For four years I had stood before Katarina like a defendant awaiting sentencing. A full battery of tests every year, and every single report said the same thing: nothing wrong with me. So who, exactly, had the problem? But Dominic would never get himself checked.

In the world of the Falcone family, the Godfather was incapable of having a problem.

I smiled and raised my glass. “Congratulations. Though I suppose the real question is—who’s the father?”

Alessia’s face went white.

As the gala wound down, I walked out alone through the hotel’s front entrance and stood in the parking lot, waiting for someone to bring the car around.

The roar of an engine came out of nowhere.

I turned. Blinding headlights, right in my face.

Alessia was behind the wheel of the Porsche Dominic had bought for her, barreling straight toward me. I didn’t even have time to move.

The next second, my body was launched into the air. I hit the concrete hard.

But it wasn’t over. Two men materialized from the shadows. They hauled me off the ground. Before I could react, they slammed me facedown onto the hood of a black SUV.

One pinned my arms. The other grabbed my throat and pressed my face into the scalding metal. I smelled my own hair burning.

Then Alessia got out of the car.

Her heels struck the pavement.

Click. Click. Click.

She crouched, pinched my chin between her fingers, and wrenched my face toward hers. “That little remark you made at the gala tonight? I’ll be remembering that.”

She stood, stepped back, and glanced at the two men.

They dragged me off the hood and dropped me onto the concrete.

The back of my skull cracked against the pavement. White light exploded behind my eyes.

One of them stepped on my fingers and ground down, sole twisting slowly over each knuckle.

I clenched my jaw and refused to scream. The other kicked me in the ribs.

The passenger window slid down.

Dominic sat inside, one arm resting on the window frame, watching me. “Valentina. Apologize to Alessia.”

I lay on the concrete, my mouth full of blood. I raised my eyes to his. “No.”

Dominic let out a cold laugh. “Then lie there and reflect on the price of your behavior.”

The window rose.

The engine revved. The taillights traced a cold streak through the darkness and vanished.

I lay on the frozen concrete, consciousness dimming.

Just before I blacked out completely, a man crouched in front of me.

“Four years since I’ve seen you, and this is what you’ve done to yourself?”

Dante Loresi?

Wasn’t he supposed to be in Sicily, handling a job for my father?

What was he doing back?

This was terrible. I looked like an absolute wreck right now.

“Hang in there, principessa. The ambulance is almost here.” He wiped the blood from my face with a handkerchief. “Don’t worry—I’ve already sent men after those two thugs. I’ll make them pay.”

How was that enough?

I ground the words out between clenched teeth: “Not just them.”

Dante’s lips curved. “Same as ever, I see. Still the little hellion.”

I wanted to say more, but the next second, I was gone.