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Chapter 1
Valentina
Five Years Earlier
The thin parchment in my hand slips from my fingers and flutters to the ground. I press my palm to my chest and shut my eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.
It can’t be true.
But I’d recognize my mother’s handwriting anywhere. There’s no mistaking it; she wrote the letter. The only thing I don’t understand is why.
Why would she leave the life she spent decades building?
Carefully, I remove the white veil from my head and set it down on the ottoman by my feet. Piece by piece, I remove every glittering ornament from my body, starting with the dazzling diamond earrings that sparkle every time I turn my head. The golden bracelet comes next, then the set of rings on my fingers. None of it matters. Not the satin gown hugging my hips. Not the hundreds of people waiting in the chapel. Not the promise I made to the man I love.
In the end, there’s only the truth.
Before she died, my mother wanted to leave this life behind. She wanted me to leave with her.
If there’s one thing I am, it’s a good daughter.
And good daughters always follow their mother’s wishes.
Present Day
The rules for being a mafia princess aren’t written in ink.
They’re written in blood. The kind that flows from one generation to the next, passed down from generations of good daughters who become perfect wives, until finally, they become mothers raising their own good daughters.
As one of those daughters raised within the mafia, I can recite the rules blindfolded with my hands tied behind my back. Knelt by my bedside in nightly prayer, or in front of whichever man decides I look better on my knees.
It’s something every good mafia daughter can do, no matter the circumstances. We’re taught to follow the rules. Keep our heads down. Smile pretty. Spread our legs.
After eighteen years of preparation, it should have been easy for me to follow my mother’s teachings and step into the role I was born to fill.
All I ever wanted was to make my her proud. To be just like her — radiant as a summer sun every hour of the day. She was regal like that, undaunted no matter the storm rumbling on the horizon.
I thought following in my mother’s footsteps would make her happy. Prove that not only am I a good daughter, but a perfect mafia princess, too.
Even after she died, I thought marrying the man she and my father chose for me was what she would have wanted. I’d be a wife, then a mother, just like she was.
I thought I knew what she would have wanted for me.
But for the first time in my life, I was wrong.
Following the rules should have been easy.
Breaking them should have been impossible.
A mafia princess doesn’t suddenly decide to run away on her wedding day. . .
Unless, of course, her mother tells her to.
I take a deep breath and shake my head, hoping to dislodge the recurring thoughts from my mind. They aren’t helpful anymore; they’re distracting. The minute I stepped past city lines and entered Baranova territory, I haven’t been able to get images from my wedding day out of my head.
It’s the last time I was here. Decked out in white and gold from head to toe. Putting on my prettiest smile. Ready to sell my soul to make my parents proud.
What a load of bullshit.
