Prologue
LIVIA
Five years ago
Venice. Chester Street Society Masquerade.
"You are an embarrassment in pearls," my father says. "Smile less. You look desperate."
"I know," I bite back. "It runs in the family."
He ignores the remark, looking past me, over the heads of a hundred glittering strangers, searching for someone more useful.
That's what Dante De Luca does. He uses. His daughter is no different from the Murano chandelier above us or the canapés being carried past on silver trays.
In his world, I exist to be seen, briefly, and then placed back on the shelf.
I take a glass of prosecco from a passing tray. Then another. Then I stop counting.
The Chester Street Society masquerade is exactly what it sounds like if you already know what it is, and you’re never told if you don't.
Old money. Older secrets.
The Grand Palazzo Morosini has been hired for the night, and the Ca' d'Oro light falls gold across its water entrance. Every person here wears a mask, so rules are basically like sugar in hot water.
There are no names or titles. That's why everyone is here. Likehey, come party and do every kind of shit you want and no one's going to hold you accountable.
Yay.
I hate this.
I hate him.
I hate every single pot-bellied politician leering at me like I'm a piece of cake.
I hate this fucking dress.
I hate my ex.
I hate my life.
I’m wearing ivory. My mask is ivory too, threaded with tiny seed pearls, and it covers everything above my lips.
The dress is gorgeous. It clings to every curve of my body, dipping so low in front that the entire star of the dress is my cleavage.
It would make me feel sexy on any other occasion. But my father chose it, and now every inch of the fabric feels like a waving flag screaming:look at me. Come grab a bite.
My lips are bare. I wore lipstick when leaving the house, but to spite Dante, I got here and swiped it clean with the same animal instinct that makes certain creatures shed their color before something dangerous happens.
My heart is a badly healed thing.
Vito has been gone for three weeks, and the emotional wound he left is still bleeding.
He said I was too much, too needy. But more ridiculously, too monogamous.
I learned later that I was just one of six other leading ladies in the circus that was our relationship.
The mutual friend who broke the news looked too delighted to even act sorry for me. I thanked her, went home, and sat in the bath until the water went cold.
