1

Emelia

Present Day

“It’s going to be our last night here for a while,” Jacob states, looking around our little booth in the diner.

We’ve been coming here for so long that the place has become a second home.

“I know,” I agree.

A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I think of all the times we’ve spent here and the years we’ve been friends.

This is also the last night I’ll be seeing him for a very long time. Playfully, I toss a cheese ball at him. He catches it with his mouth. We both start laughing, and people at the nearby tables glance our way.

“Have you finished packing?” Jacob asks, setting his arm down on the table.

“I don’t know what kind of question that is,” I bubble, shaking my head at him.

He’s my best friend. He should know better than to ask me something like that.

I leave for Florence in the morning in prep to start my sophomore year at the Accademia delle Belle Arti. My dream is to become an artist. I’ve been excited to go to Florence since my father booked the tickets. I’ve always wanted to study in Italy, just like my mother did. Jacob and I finished our freshman year at UCLA a few weeks ago. My bags have been packed since.

If Mom were alive, she’d be really proud of me. Going to the Accademia is the last thing I’ll do to follow in her footsteps. It’s going to be amazing.

“Sorry, my mistake.” Jacob chuckles. His large brown eyes sparkle. “It was more the case of me asking if you’re ready to go. But you were probably born ready.”

I laugh. “I was. I’ll miss you a lot, but I can’t wait to leave,” I confess.

It will be exciting to start my classes because some of the best teachers in the world will instruct me, but I won’t deny that the chance to escape LA and my father’s controlling hand doesn’t appeal to me as well.

Although I’ll have bodyguards accompanying me and I’ll be staying with my uncle, this is the first time I’ll be going to Italy without Dad.

“I get it. I just hope your old man doesn’t have a heart attack.” He smirks.

“I know. I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind.” Like he nearly did about me going to college.

I wanted to go away to study right from the get-go, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. We only settled on UCLA because it was close to home. He wouldn’t hear of me living on campus either. The best things about going there were the courses and getting to see Jacob.

It took the miracle of Uncle Leo’s assurance that he’d look after me and profound begging to get Dad to allow me to go to Florence.

“Fingers crossed he won’t. You worked hard to show him you’ll be fine, and you worked hard for the placement.” Jacob nods, looking proud of me.

“Thank you.”

I know what it means to be a Balesteri, and specifically to be the daughter of a mob boss. My father is a powerful man. As such, he has enemies. I already experienced an eye opener when my cousin, Porter, was gunned down in the street a few years back. My family isn’t average. Neither is Jacob’s. We’re both old enough and smart enough to know where we come from. Jacob’s father works for mine, so we’re well aware of the dangers we could face just for being who we are.

I love my father dearly and I know he just wants to protect me, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in one big gilded cage. Going to Italy will give me a chance to be free. Truthfully, I’m hoping that if everything goes well, Dad will allow me more freedom so I can travel around without constant supervision. Or his watchful eye.

“Your mother would be happy and very proud of you,” Jacob intones.

I draw in a breath, nodding slowly, and he reaches across the table to cover my hands with his. Mom’s been gone for three years now. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes the grief comes back to haunt me, and I remember how she suffered during those last few months when cancer got the better of her.

I wasn’t sure which killed her first—the rigorous sessions of chemotherapy or the disease itself. She didn’t even look like my mother in the end. The only thing that remained was her beautiful spirit. She was watching me paint when she took her last breath. I’ll never forget the way she looked after. Like she was proud of me. Proud for sharing her dreams in art, and proud for my desire to follow my own.

“That means a lot to me, Jacob.”

“I know it does. I’m seriously going to miss you a lot, Emilia.”

“But you’ll come and see me, right?” I ask, hopeful.

He releases my hands and gives me one of his cocky grins. “Every chance I get.”

“You better.”

“You know I will.” He presses his lips together. I stare back at him as a sliver of awkward silence fills the space between us.

In his text earlier he mentioned wanting to ask me something important. I have a pretty good idea what that something might be.

He’s been different since we started college. Different in a way that suggests he wants us to be more than friends. I pretend not to notice, but I do. I see it now as he stares back at me.

I might be an idiot not to want him too. Jacob is handsome and has always taken care of me. But to me he feels like a brother. I can’t see us being more than friends. I can’t feel it either.

Besides… even though no one has ever said this, I get the feeling that no matter how close Jacob is, or what ties bind our families, my father would never allow anything more than friendship between us.

“So… I guess I should talk to you about that something, right?” he says, fidgeting. I tense.

“Yeah, you should.” I want him to tell me what’s on his mind so I can be real with him.

“I was… thinking about us and the relationship we have,” he begins. “We’ve always been great together.”

“Yes,” I answer, biting the inside of my lip. “We have.”

“Emelia, you know I really value you.”

I’m about to tell him I value him too— as my closest friend— when the door to the restaurant bursts open and Frankie, one of my father’s guards, barges through.

The moment our eyes lock I know something is wrong. My nerves spike when he marches over with a heavy thud.

“Emelia,” Frankie urges, “you have to come with me now.”

I frown. “What?”

“Your father needs you to come now.” I look back at Jacob.

“Why, what’s happening?” I prod.

“Just come, now,” he demands with a balled fist, reminding me that while I might be the Balesteri princess, he doesn’t answer to me. He answers to my father.

I stand. Jacob does too. I planned to stay out with him for a little while longer. We didn’t even get to finish our talk.

“It’s okay. You go. I’ll see you in Italia,” Jacob encourages me.

I throw my arms around him, and he plants a kiss on my forehead. He’s never done that before.

“I’ll see you in Italia,” I answer.

“Buonasera.” He gives me a watery gaze brimming with worry.

“Buonasera,” I reply with a little smile.

“Come on,” Frankie pushes, beckoning me to go with him.

I move toward him. He places his hand to the small of my back, ushering me away.

“What about my car?” I ask, glancing over to the parking lot as we step outside.

“I’ll have someone pick it up,” he answers gruffly.

“Frankie, what is going on?” I attempt again, praying Dad hasn’t changed his mind about Italy.

Frankie doesn’t answer, so I don’t ask again. I’m led to the Bentley. Hugo, my father’s second in command, is at the wheel. Frankie opens the back door for me to get in, and once I’m strapped inside, he joins Hugo in the front.

A lump forms in my throat as the car sets off down the drive. I glance back at the diner, seeing Jacob watching me as we pull away.

This is weird, very strange, even for my father. He’s never done this before.

Thirty minutes later, when we drive down the length of the driveway, my heart squeezes with fear when I look ahead to the house and see cars parked up outside and men at the door I don’t recognize. They’re holding machine guns.

“Fucking hell,” Hugo says under his breath.

“Yes, fucking hell indeed. What the fuck is this?” Frankie mutters.

My father hates the men swearing around me, afraid it will taint me. To me it’s foolish to worry over such things when there’s always something bigger to worry about. Like what is happening now.

We park and Frankie gets out of the car first. Both men come to my side when I step out, shielding me, protecting me as they take me by my arms.

“What is happening?” I whisper. Once again, no one answers me.

We just walk. Either they don’t know, or they don’t want to say. They must have been told something, though, because they lead me straight to my father’s office.

I only go in here when Dad wants to talk about my grades or my allowance. Since there’s no reason to speak of either, I can’t even guess what the hell this could all be about.

Frankie opens the door and I tense right up at the scene before me.

Dad is sitting behind his desk with a daunting look in his eyes, his face pale and sweat running down the side of his face. I’ve never seen him look so…disturbed.

Scared?

He looks scared.

Before him in the leather back chair is a man who looks to be the same age as he is. A younger man stands beside Dad, along with Mr. Marzetti, our family lawyer. I’ve never seen these men before in my life, and the way Dad looks has me on edge. Panic surges through me, making me feel like I should run away.

My father is a man most call untouchable, but whatever is happening in here is not good.

The man standing next to Dad is who holds my attention. With his striking appearance and those piercing turquoise eyes, he’s easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that rivets me.

He’s looking at me like he can see straight through me, like he can see right through to my soul. He’s tall and foreboding and has a presence that commands authority.

I sense the same air of authority in the older man. Apart from the eye color, they look similar. So, I guess the younger man is his son. I also guess these men are mafia. They emanate the vibe.

“Emelia, take a seat,” Dad instructs, pointing to the empty chair on the other side of the desk.

Frankie and Hugo release me, and my shaky legs carry me to the chair.

I steel my spine and try to look like I’m not fazed, although I am.

I’m used to people looking at me. I’m used to men looking at me the same way they used to look at my mother. She was very beautiful, and while I don’t profess to possess the sort of beauty she had, people tell me I look exactly like her.

The looks I get now hold that fascination, but there’s more, and I hate that I don’t know what is going on.

“Dad, what is happening?” I’m not usually supposed to speak when it’s clear Dad is in a business meeting. Since this doesn’t appear to be anything of the sort, I push the rules aside.

“Emelia, this is Giacomo D’Agostino,” Dad introduces the older man, and instantly I wonder if the name has anything to do with D’Agostino Inc., the oil company.

I recall it because the name is unusual. It’s Italian, and they’re Italian, but it’s not a name I’m used to hearing.

“Hello, sir,” I say, but Giacomo just looks at me. No answer.

“This is Giacomo’s son Massimo D’Agostino,” Dad continues his introductions, pointing to the younger man, who straightens up, giving me a full view of his tall and well-muscled body. His powerfully built shoulders cast an outline over the fabric of his white shirt, showing off the muscle definition.

I won’t be an idiot with pleasantries and manners like I did with his father only to look like a fool when he doesn’t answer. It’s clear they aren’t here for biscuits and tea. There are men with guns outside, and I’m sitting here in my father’s office like I’m waiting to be sentenced.

Instead of looking at either of them, I look at Dad.

“Dad, what is going on?” I demand.

Dad swallows and releases a sigh. He squints slightly and looks like he’s trying to hold his temper.

“You’re going to marry Massimo in a month’s time,” he answers. My mouth drops wide open.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“What… no… I… no.” I shake my head furiously in disbelief.

Surely, I couldn’t have heard right. Marry? A man I don’t know? No way.

“Yes,” he confirms in that voice that shows the depth of his seriousness. I blink back tears that well up in my eyes, willing myself not to cry.

“Dad, this is outrageous! I can’t marry someone I don’t know,” I gasp.

“You will do this, Emelia,” Dad answers, shocking me. “He wishes for you to leave today. You will leave now and move to his home.”

My head feels so light I might faint. All I can do is stare at him in shock. “Today! What about Italy? I’m leaving tomorrow. What about school?” I knew it was too good to be true, but I never imagined something like this happening.

“You won’t be able to go,” he replies, and my heart breaks.

“My art… Please don’t take my dreams away from me,” I beg.

“Emelia, do not make this harder than it already is,” he answers, holding up a hand.

“How could you do this?” I rasp, but he doesn’t answer.

Dad holds my gaze, and the fact that he says nothing highlights the seriousness of the situation.

Mr. Marzetti sets a document on the desk before us and looks at Massimo. I can’t look at either of them. I can’t because the document that’s in front of me looks like some kind of contract. Why would I need a contract?

“What is that?” I ask, but it’s another unanswered question.

“Mr. D’Agostino, please sign here,” Mr. Marzetti says, and Massimo walks over to sign in the section he pointed to.

Massimo then slides the document to me and sets the pen right down beside my hand. He’s so close, too close, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end when I turn and face him. Our eyes lock, and when I stare into the depths of his blue gaze, I see nothing. No soul, nothing human, nothing he wishes to give away.

“Sign, Emelia,” Dad orders, breaking the trance, and I look back at the document.

It’s definitely a contract… I skim the first few lines. Bile churns my stomach then rises into my throat, burning.

My skin flushes with icy fear as I read the words:

It is hereby certified by this contract of ownership that Massimo D’Agostino will as of this day, 1st July 2019, become the sole proprietor of Emelia Juliette Balesteri. She will fall part of all assets acquired from Riccardo Balesteri in attempt to recover sums of the debt owed, which totals $25 million dollars. She will belong to him, and marriage to him will bind all assets and inheritance linked to her name…

That’s all I need to read. All I need to see. I bolt upright and back away. The situation is so much worse than I thought.

Not going to Italy is bad, the idea of marrying a man I don’t know devastating, but this…

What the hell is this?

The words swirl around in my mind as I look at each of them. The older man, Giacomo, who still has that stern face void of emotion. His son, Massimo, who stares back at me in anticipation. Mr. Marzetti, who looks away in shame. Him I give credit. He seems to be the only person before me who knows this is wrong.

When my gaze settles back on Dad, my brain scrambles and my skin prickles with goose bumps. He’s supposed to love and protect me.

This can’t be real.

“You’re selling me!” I gasp. My voice is shrill, rising several octaves as I speak, shaking as I tremble from deep within. “Daddy, you’re selling me?”

I have to ask the question. His face contorts and his jaw clenches. Once again, there’s no answer.

Jesus… this can’t be happening. He’s selling me. It’s true. A debt exchanged. Me for twenty-five million.

Twenty-five million.

What the fuck happened? How did this happen?

My father is incredibly wealthy. He doesn’t owe anybody. Clearly, I’m terribly wrong.

“Emelia, I need your signature,” he states, rising to his feet.

“Dad… how could you do this? You’re selling me,” I croak, and fuck, the tears come hard now.

One more step back, and I hit a wall, but it’s not the wall. Arms steady me, holding me in place, preventing me from fleeing. I look up and see Frankie. He averts his gaze, though, and stares right ahead. He was right to think I would flee, but how far would I get?

“Sign the document, Emelia,” Dad demands, glowering at me.

“Dad,” I mutter. “No.”

I knew I would have to marry someday, but I didn’t imagine it would be like this. Sold. Falling part of assets. Belonging to someone under a contract of ownership like I’m a thing? No. I never thought that.

My parents had an arranged marriage, and they told me how it all happened. How they met and dated and got to know each other and love came. My mother loved him.

Dad moves to me lightning fast and drags me away from Frankie, shoving me forward so hard I almost fall over. I have to catch the edge of the desk to steady myself.

With one swift move he grabs the pen, takes my hand, and squeezes my hand so hard I cry out.

“You will obey me,” Dad rages, squeezing harder.

In all my years, he’s never behaved this way. Never hurt me. Never mistreated me in any way. Desperation and rage mingle in his pale blue eyes. I’ve never seen him look so scared.

“Do it!” he shouts, squeezing my hand so hard I cry out from the pain.

I’m shocked when a heavy hand lands on top of his, nearly covering both our hands.

It’s Massimo. Dad stills and glares at him, but Massimo stares him down.

“Let. Her. Go.” His voice…it’s deep and evenly spoken. Eloquent but demanding. Filled with darkness that sends a lance of panic through me.

He releases his grip on Dad, and Dad lets me go. The pen clatters to the desk, and just for a second, I look at him and wonder if he sees just how wrong this is. I’m a person.

I’m quickly reminded he’s not here to be my savior when he picks up the pen and holds it out to me.

“Sign the document, Emelia,” Massimo says, lingering on the last syllable of my name. “If you don’t, you will not like what happens next.”

I gaze at him and tremble. Rage flickers in his eyes, yet he seems so calm as he speaks. I am helpless against his threat.

No one in here will help me.

His threat holds the menace of death laced between the words.

Will he kill my father if I don’t sign? Is that what this is? Will he kill me? Torture me? He looks like he would. Beyond the beauty in his face is darkness. Darkness and a menace of evil.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want them to kill Dad.

So that’s it…

I take the pen. Tears blind me as I sign away my life and my dreams.

The tears fall onto the contract as my vision blurs.

“Take her to the house,” Massimo commands. Someone takes my arm.

I don’t know who it is. I just move, feeling numb inside. I can’t look at my father as I leave.

How could he do this to me? Sell me.

Instead of looking forward to my dreams, I’m walking to what I know will be my destruction.

What else could it be?