“Is this the man who killed my father, Maria? The man who gave you those bruises?”
She lifts her head, and her impassive eyes fill with horror. Her breathing kicks up ten notches, face flaming bright red as the horrors perpetuated upon her play across her features for both me and Emiliano to witness.
“Si, Don Rafael.Il diavolo incarnato.” She blesses herself three times with shaky hands. “I’m so sorry I let him take Miss Aurelia. I—I didn’t?—”
I rise from my seat in a fluid motion, stepping around the desk to take her trembling hands in mine when I kneel by her side.
“Maria, you have nothing to be sorry for.Iam sorry this happened to you.”
She looks up from where her eyes have been trained on her hands sitting in her lap. Tears freely streak down both cheeks, and I pour every ounce of promise I can muster into my next statement.
“And you have my word, on my mother’s grave, that I will see the bastard pay for his sins.”
Once I’ve walked Maria from my office, with Emiliano for company, I settle at my desk, and open the drawer on my right. I slowly pluck the letter my father had left in his safe in case something exactly like this occurred, intent on re-reading it for the hundredth time.
I slip it from the creased envelope and skim over the words, drawing strength from them as I read.
Rafael, my son.
My heir.
From the moment your beautiful mother brought you into this world, you’ve viewed it through eyes wiser than your years.
You possess a true gift, Rafe. You know your own mind. You are your own man. No matter what others would say to persuade you otherwise. You know who you are. You always have.
Never lose that.
You may not have been born to lead, my boy, but you’ve got all the tools you need.
Trust yourself.
I’ll be with you every step of the way.
Ti amo, Rafael.
Papa
I foldand refold the paper over and over, mulling over the words of my father and cursing the world that’s taken him from us too soon.
The world that took Alessio, and forced me to fill shoes I’m not entirely sure I can fill.
Shoes I don’twantto fill, but know I must all the same.
I’m not ready.
And in the silence of the office that was once his, I swear I hear his deep voice whisper, “You were born ready.”
CHAPTER 2
ELODIE - PRESENT DAY - AGE 24
LAKE GARDA, ITALY
I turnoff the vibration on my cell, planting it face down on the table as I ignore the umpteenth text from an exceptionally irate Domenico Conti.
“You know I’m here for you, Ellie.”
My best friend, Levi, watches me over the top of his menu. His big brown eyes are brimming with concern that I really don’t want to deal with, so I paste a megawatt smile on my face in the signature way I’ve carefully cultivated throughout my life.
