PaigeI tucked my arm through Tom’s and straightened my long, floral romper. He kissed me on the cheek, then knocked on the door. Joyce swung it open.“Hello!” She welcomed us both in with hugs. “Mr. and Mrs. Ricci are in the drawing room. Please, come in.”We let ourselves be bustled through the door, the wine we’d brought carried off to the kitchen, and our coats taken to some closet somewhere in the mansion. Adrian used it as a base of operations when Killian and Sera weren’t home, so I’d been here a few times since the wedding, but I’d never felt comfortable here. Finally, we were led to the closed doors of the drawing room, and Tom opened them with a smile.Inside, we found not only “Mr. and Mrs. Ricci,” but also Olivia and Patrick, Adrian and Penny—who still wouldn’t even talk about their dance at the wedding—and Sera’s mother and brother, as well as Lauren. Sera leapt up to greet us, and Killian followed a few paces behind. I threw myself into the hug just as much as Sera did—I
KillianI sat behind my desk and looked out over my men. Tommaso took his usual seat. Adrian hovered in the corner like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself yet, just like he had at the beginning. Patrick was still laughing about spilling his wine. Just like old times. I stood and started pouring everyone drinks.“So,” I said, “do you have an update on the warehouses, Adrian?”He started toward my desk, then paused. An odd moment passed. It wasn’t really my desk anymore. I’d left the hunk of wood behind because I had no need for it on the island, and he’d loaded it down with computers in my absence. Despite that, I’d never seen anyone sit behind it but my father besides me.I offered Adrian a drink. “Sit.”He nodded. “Didn’t want to step on your toes. The situation is pretty simple, all told, but I can tell there’s a certain amount of grace I’m supposed to be handling this foreman with, and I don’t—”Tommaso joined me at the bar to pour. “Do you remember that foreman in the so
PaigeI stood in the vestibule outside of the chapel, clutching my flowers, my heart hammering in my chest. Organ music belted through the doors, and I was just waiting for my cue.We all were. My two bridesmaids, in simple maroon dresses, stood ahead of me. Like she could feel my eyes, Lauren turned back and winked. I smiled. The dress looked spectacular on her, and I’d promised up and down that Tom would invite enough handsome men for her to go home with a date. This, of course, had been complicated by Tom choosing Killian and Stan as his two groomsmen. While I liked the older man, and he kept Lauren laughing, I didn’t exactly see the two of them as a couple.Mom stepped up next to me with a smile. Her mother-of-the-bride dress, a deep burgundy gown with gold accents, caught the light and sent it dancing. “Are you excited?”I inhaled sharply. “I kind of can’t stop thinking about the seating chart for the reception. Who have I become?”She laughed. “Your father.”Tears beaded in my e
SeraJim 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
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