Jim Harrison. Tall, blond hair, big baby blue eyes. And dimples that showed off every time he flashed his dashing white smile. Everything about him screamed American Dream—broad shoulders and a finely defined jaw, well-fitting Levi jeans, and the kind of face that made me envision a life where we got married, bought a condo in Jersey, and adopted a Golden Retriever named Buddy. Jim would train him to heel, sit, and stay. I’d let him sleep at the foot of the bed. We’d argue about it, but Jim would eventually forfeit and lose a quarter of his half of the bed. Buddy deserved the best.
I’d been crushing on Jim on and off for the better part of a year, but so had every single other teacher in the Ardmore, Pennsylvania district. Yet, somehow, on a sunny Thursday afternoon in October, Jim walked me out to my car after our students left for the day and started flirting with me. Reality turned to sand, running between my fingers.
Finally.
“Sera?” He laughed, waving a hand in front of my face. I snapped back to the real world in an instant, totally aware of the way my cheeks burned.
“Long day,” I mumbled, flashing him a warm smile as I adjusted the heavy weight in my arms. “Did you say something?”
“I was just asking what you have planned this weekend.” He gave me another smile that showed off the extensive and expensive dental work he’d had done as a teenager. He had a million-dollar smile most actors would envy.
“Grading,” I replied, shrugging as I adjusted the numerous folders I was carrying in my arms. “I’ve been at it all week. Midterms, you know.”
Jim smiled again, that dimple making my knees go a little weak as his eyes met mine. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to empathize with the hell that was middle-school midterms. He was the beloved gym teacher, after all. While all of the teachers at Jefferson Middle School slaved away for a week straight, our fingertips stained with red ink and our eyes rimmed with dark circles, Jim threw dodgeballs at unsuspecting thirteen-year-olds and drank coffee in the teachers’ lounge.
“What about the dance?” he asked, leaning on his shiny blue Subaru.
“What dance? Oh, God. The Fall Formal?” I set my papers on the hood of my beat-up Volvo station wagon and sighed heavily, running my hand over my face. “Is that this weekend?”
“Didn’t some of your classes do the posters for the dance?”
“We might have done some editing.” I massaged the crinkles between my eyebrows. The days had been blending into the weeks lately. How it was already October, I had no idea. I’d just been getting my footing at Jefferson as the eighth grade reading teacher. There were protocols and structures my education hadn’t set me up for, not to mention temperaments and behaviors of students. The last six weeks had been dedicated to trying to bond with said students. It had been a tricky task, but I finally felt like I was finding my footing. Perhaps I’d gotten a little too cocky. After all, I was supposed to chaperone the dance.
There go my weekend plans.
“Well, I’m going,” he mused, and something in his eyes gave me pause. “Maybe we could—I don’t know—Grab a drink afterward?”
My heart started to race. “Like, all of us chaperones?”
“I was thinking just me and you, if you’re cool with that.
I felt pretty smug all of a sudden as I causally leaned on my car, stealing a glance at my reflection in the frosty windshield. My thick, gently curling dark brown hair had fallen loose from the claw-clip I was in the habit of wearing, dark tendrils falling over my shoulders. I met his gaze again, noticing the way his eyes dipped to follow a single curl that rested above the swell of my breasts and curved over my tight sweater.
“Sure.” I grinned. The crush I’d been harboring for him rushed to the forefront of my mind. Jim was a good guy. The kind of guy who took you to get ice cream and who you’d want to bring home to meet not only your family, but your Nonna. Well, maybe not my family, including my Nonna, but still.
“Cool, it’s a—it’s a date,” he stammered a bit, cheeks shimmering a pale rose as he winked at me and climbed into his car.
“See you tomorrow,” I said with a short wave as he pulled out of his parking spot. I sighed as I turned back to my car and fished for my keys, grumbling under my breath as the cold started to bite my skin.
I’d just put my key into the driver’s side door when I heard a vehicle peeling into the parking lot. I looked up, alarmed, and spotted a white van with heavily tinted windows barreling over potholes in its haste to drive right at me.
Shock clouded my senses as I yanked on my door, but it was too late. The van hadn’t even come to a complete stop before two men hopped out and rushed at me, their faces hidden by black masks. I yanked on the door again, prying it open, but one of the men grabbed me by my hair and pulled me backward so hard I lost my footing completely as I was dragged over the gravelly parking space between me and the van. I tried to get traction with my heels, digging them into the ground, but the searing pain in my scalp was distracting, and I grabbed at gloved fingers wrapped around my hair.
A hand pressed against my mouth before I could scream, and before I had time to register what was even happening, a bag came down over my head and a rope was tied around my neck. The gloved hands yanked the rope tight, securing the bag around my neck. I choked on a yelp as I was thrown into the van, my head cracking against something hard, cold, and metal.
“Wait,” I pleaded, the word tasting of acid and coming out in a hoarse, desperate cry.
You have the wrong girl!
“You sure she’s the one?” came a male voice somewhere nearby.
“Yeah, that’s a Bianchi, alright. I could spot one from a mile away.”
My blood ran cold. Maybe they didn’t have the wrong girl. Maybe they had exactly who they were after. But why now? After all this time…
SeraBreathe Sera.Fingers fisted my hair and pulled upward, forcing me to look up at the man who’d just pulled a bag from over my head. He wore a suit and mask, both so black in color they seemed to suck the light right out of the room. There were no designs on the full-faced mask. It was just a void, a black hole, a vacant space where his face should have been. His hands were bare, and in the light of a huge crystal chandelier above our heads I caught the glint of the gold ring he wore on his right ring finger.I sucked in my breath as my focus locked on the ring and the insignia woven across the golden band.Il mio sangue scorre per la famiglia.My blood runs for the family.The Marino family motto.Hot, uncontrollable tears blurred my vision as my body trembled with terror. I stole a glance around the room, seeing nothing but gold trim and gilded wallpaper that brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. I knew where I was. I knew this place. Worst of all, I knew what was rumored to
KillianIt’d been years since I last stepped foot in Sala delle Rose, the grotesquely enormous mansion situated on the Jersey coast. I avoided this place if I could help it. Grecian columns lined a long foyer as I walked toward the ballroom. Yes, a fucking ballroom. Riccardo Marino’s grandfather had built this place back in the early nineteen thirties and had apparently thought of everything when it came to what his descendants might get up to when he was six feet under and nothing but a mural on the wall.The Marinos were once the family—the ones calling the shots and ruling over practically the entire east coast. But Riccardo’s rise to power some thirty years ago saw the end of their reign. Now, the man threw his fancy parties and sat on his throne, which was exactly that: a big golden chair with red velvet cushions that overlooked the entire ballroom.I smirked as I entered and looked around.“Your mask?”I turned, looking Riccardo’s son Niccolò in the eyes. His pupils widened befo
SeraBright lights momentarily blinded me as Niccolò shoved me onto the stage. I’d been fighting him the whole time, screaming in terror at the top of my lungs as he dragged me through a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He’d cuffed my hands behind my back and slapped his hand over my mouth, threatening to beat me within an inch of my life if I didn’t shut up.“I’ll keep you alive,” he’d rasped, “only because killing you would be a merciful act compared to what will happen to you after the auction.”Now I stood on a stage practically naked. A black chemise two sizes too small hugged every curve and was so tight on my breasts that the silken fabric did nothing to hide the hardened peaks of my nipples. It was freezing, but I couldn’t tell if my teeth were chattering because of the cold or only the sheer, paralyzing panic I felt.My knees bit into stone as I looked up at the crowd through the thick tangles of curls falling over my face. They were all wearing masks. Some people tilted their head
Sera“Who are you?” I whispered to the man who’d just bought me for a million dollars.He was not handsome. He was not young. His eyes were bright and blue and cruel.“You know me, bella,” the old man crooned as he ran a finger down my cheek and along my jaw, pressing under my chin so I had to look up into his eyes. “Say my name.”“Gabriele de Luca,” I said, my voice a strained whisper as he smiled.“I do love the sound of that on your tongue.” He clucked, patting my cheek with his warm, clammy hand. He was my father’s age, maybe a little older. I didn’t know for sure.But what I did know was that they were enemies. Was this why I was taken? Was I kidnapped and sold so he could use me up and then kill me, returning what was left of my body to my father’s doorstep when he was done?I gagged at the thought, and gagged even harder as he slid his thumb into my mouth and over my tongue. I tasted copper, leather, and tobacco.“You better be worth the money I spent on you,” he warned, pressi
KillianThe petite, almost fragile-looking woman shivering like a wet cat in front of me was Delaney Lombardi. Her name rolled off my tongue as I tapped her shoulder to get her attention, but she was wide-eyed and in some kind of terrified trance.Tommaso sighed heavily, giving me an exasperated look as I snapped my fingers at her. “Raise your arms up,” my right-hand man told her. I glanced at Tommaso, shaking my head, as Delaney started sobbing between us. We were standing in a small alcove somewhere in the back of the mansion, three of my best guards forming a semi-circle around us to shield the girl from watchful eyes as Tommaso pulled a large sweatshirt over her head. It was his, and it swallowed her up so much that the length of it brushed against her knees.“Better?” Tommaso asked as Delaney glanced between us with wide hazel eyes filled with nothing but fear and confusion. That was a natural reaction, I supposed, but also a predictable one. Boring. “Pretty cold in here, huh?”S
SeraThey were speaking loudly in Italian. I was sure Gabriele and his men thought I didn’t know what they were saying, but I was fluent. My mom had seen to that, putting me and my brother Leonardo—Leo—into private catholic schools and bringing us up in what she lovingly called “the old way.”We’d spent summers in Italy with my maternal grandparents. I’d picked oranges from my Nonna’s tree, and she’d sliced them up and served them with olives, Coppa, and fresh bread.Tears streamed down my face as I shifted my focus back to their conversation and away from the beautiful memories of what was sometimes a loving, happy childhood before my mother died. My neck felt bare and cold without the weight of my rosary. I ached to reach up and rub it between my thumb and forefinger, but even the slightest movement of my arms sent a rush of searing pain through my hands as the handcuffs shredded my skin.Gabriele had me in his lap. I could smell cigar smoke and sweat even through the bag. I could d
SeraI’m dying.Gabriele was killing me, his arm pressed into my neck and cutting off my air supply. My fingernails clawed at his arm, but he didn’t move. I felt myself slipping into calm, cool darkness and it was a welcome relief.But then I heard shouting, and suddenly he released me. I took a deep, desperate breath even though I’d been reaching toward that bright light at the end of the tunnel that turned out to be the grime-covered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling instead. As soon as the humid, putrid air filled my lungs I started coughing and couldn’t stop.“What?” Gabriele shouted as he pulled on his pants and threw open the door. I couldn’t hear what the guard said, but Gabriele cursed under his breath as I brought my shaking hands up and clutched my neck where a bruise was surely forming. More coughs came, and Gabriel shoved me aside, cursing at me to be quiet.“Get her some different clothes,” he growled. “And make her eat. Force her if need be. I don’t want her losing any
SeraI clutched the sheet to my chest as a young woman entered the room. She was dressed in a pale blue uniform of some kind, her mousy brown hair pulled away from her face. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on her that my hopes of a rescue were foolish.She held a tray of food in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.“Hi.” She didn’t look me in the eyes when she spoke. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the tray of food. “I brought you something to eat and change into.”“I need out of here,” I said, “not food and clothes.”A guard moved into place outside the door as she closed it behind her. My heart fell into my stomach as a crushing weight settled there. What lengths would he go to in order to make sure I didn’t set one toe out of this prison? Was he waiting for his turn with me, like Gabriele had promised him? How patient a man could he be? Would he wait? Or if he saw an opportunity… I shook my head, scattering my thoughts. I couldn’t focus on every little threat right now. There