Chapter One
Caterina
I sprawled across the velvet chaise near my bedroom windows, one leg dangling over the armrest, my phone pressed to my ear while Adriana went on about some party at the Castellano estate.I wasn’t really listening.Instead, I picked at the silk blouse I’d tossed aside an hour ago -- Valentino, bought last week, already boring -- and let my gaze drift across the disaster zone my room had become.
Designer clothes lay scattered across the marble floors like expensive casualties.A Gucci dress hung half-off my bed frame.Three pairs of Louboutins created a hazardous path to my bathroom.My jewelry cases sat open on every available surface, catching the afternoon light and throwing rainbow refractions across the walls.
“Cat?Are you even listening to me?”
“Hmm?”I shifted, letting the blouse fall to the floor.“Sorry, what?”
“I said Marco asked about you.Again.”Adriana’s voice held that knowing tone that made me want to reach through the phone and smack her.“He wants to know if you’ll be at --”
“Tell Marco to go fuck himself.”I sat up, reaching for my discarded iced coffee on the side table.Watered down.Disgusting.I set it back without drinking.“I’m not interested in whatever trust fund baby wants to play gangster this week.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“He wore a fedora to Lucia’s birthday party.A fedora, Adi.”
She laughed, and I felt myself smile despite my mood.That was the thing about Adriana -- she got it.She understood what it was like to live in this world, to be decorative and controlled and expected to smile through it all.
“Fair point,” she said.“So what’s got you in such a charming mood today?And don’t say nothing, because I can hear it in your voice.”
I stood, pacing toward my walk-in closet.The motion felt good, gave me something to do with the restless energy crawling under my skin.“My father.What else?”
“What did Giuseppe do now?”
“He’s acting like I’m some prized mare to be traded off to the highest bidder.”I stepped into the closet, running my hand along the row of couture gowns that lined one wall.Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, Armani -- thousands of dollars of fabric I was expected to wear while playing the dutiful daughter.“Apparently, he’s been having meetings.About my future.”
“Meetings.”Adriana’s voice went flat.She knew what that meant.We all did.
“With families.Old families.Traditional families who think women should be seen and not heard.”I grabbed a dress at random -- something in emerald green I’d worn once to a charity gala -- and pulled it off its hanger.Held it up.Put it back.Wrong.All wrong.“He actually told me yesterday that it was time I started thinking about settling down.Settling down.I’m twenty-one, not forty.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I’d rather die.”
Adriana sucked in a breath.“Cat.You didn’t.”
“I did.”I moved to my vanity table, surveying the collection of high-end makeup and perfumes arranged across its surface.My reflection stared back at me from the mirror -- dark hair falling in waves past my shoulders, green eyes sharp with anger I couldn’t quite bank.I looked like my mother had at my age, according to the photos.Before Papa had worn her down into the perfect Mafia wife.“He didn’t appreciate it.”
“I’m shocked.”
“The thing is, he doesn’t even see it.Doesn’t see how fucking archaic it all is.”I picked up a lipstick, twisted it open, then put on a little across my lips.“We all know he’s doing this for himself or the family, but I’m sure part of him also thinks he’s protecting me.Providing for me.Making sure I’m taken care of.”
“By selling you off to some capo’s son?”
“Basically.”I walked back to the windows, looking out over the Lombardi estate gardens.Perfectly manicured hedges, marble fountains, rose bushes that cost more to maintain than most people made in a year.Beautiful.Like a gilded cage.“He keeps talking about duty and family and legacy.As if I’m just another asset to be leveraged.At the same time, I know he feels women are inferior.I’m sure he doesn’t believe I could ever take care of myself.”
“You are, though.To him.”Adriana’s voice was gentle, which somehow made it worse.“In his world, that’s what daughters are for.”
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass.“I know.That’s what makes it so Goddamn frustrating.He genuinely believes he’s doing right by me.That finding me a wealthy, connected husband is the best thing he can offer.”
“What about what you want?”
“What I want doesn’t factor into the equation.”I turned away from the window, surveying my room again.The luxury that surrounded me suddenly felt suffocating rather than comfortable.“I’m a Lombardi.I’m supposed to want what’s best for the family.”
“And what do you want?”
