Page 1 of Unlock My Heart

Prologue

Sienna

Nineteen-years-old

“We’re outside the courthouse where a prominent local businessman’s son will be making his appearance. Fabien Calvani is expected to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter in connection with the deadly shooting inside the famous jazz lounge of Hotel D’Amico.”

Feelings that I’ve worked too damn hard to bury are trying to claw their way to the surface, and so I turn off the television. But like a siren’s song enticing me to thrash myself against the rocks, I find myself digging through the closet and breaking out the designer shoe box.

Dumping the box upside down, the sealed letters tumble out, and I arrange them on my thrifted coffee table based on the envelopes’ postmarked dates.

A part of me desperately wants to open them. To read his pitiful excuses; to soothe my tattered soul with his sweet-sounding lies. But as with my feelings, I sweep the letters back inside the box, closing the lid tight.

My phone is now in hand, and I examine the message that I left on read.

Go to dinner with me, bellissima. I’ll send a car to pick you up at seven.

Michele’s motives are as transparent as glass. I’m a conquest. A trophy. A shiny toy stolen from Fabien.

And my motives are nearly as see-through. Fabien will get word that I went on a date with his capo, and it’ll get under his skin. Not because Fabian loves me; I’ve disabused myself of that silly notion. No, but because it’ll hit him where it hurts the most: his big, fat Calvani ego.

My thumbs fly over the keyboard.

I’m looking forward to it.

My heart races as the town car pulls up to Hotel D’Amico. Michele appears, opening the car door for me and helping me out. “Stunning as always, Sienna.” He presses a kiss on the top of my hand.

I’ve never been able to put my finger on it, but something about Michele has always made me feel a bit uncomfortable. But as the reigning queen of burying my feelings, I do just that, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Thank you, Michele. Where are we dining this evening?”

Please say anywhere other than here.

“I’ve closed the lounge for the two of us,” he says suggestively.

An uncomfortable feeling licks at my spine as we enter the lounge, and he escorts me to the same table where Fabien shattered my heart.

My stomach drops like lead, but I say nonchalantly, “Interesting choice.”

“The best seat in the house.” Michele pulls out my chair for me, and I sit. Scooting his chair closer, he sits, placing a proprietary hand on my thigh.

“I’m not having sex with you, Michele,” I warn him, shifting my leg away from his hold. “After the Fabien situation, I vowed to save myself for marriage.” A bald-faced lie; I’m just not interested in fucking this man.

“Then marry me.”

The proposal nearly knocks me out of my chair. “Didn’t your wife of twenty years recently pass away?” It’s a question I already know the answer to.

“She did, God rest her soul.” With a somber face, he makes the sign of the cross. “And I’ve learned this life isn’t promised, and to grab onto happiness while you can. I’ve always wanted you, Sienna. Marry me. Fabien isn’t here to take care of you. I am.”

Michele touches my cheek, and while I don’t lean into his touch, I don’t recoil, either. The days of me being a love-struck fool are over.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell him honestly.

Stepping off the trolley, I make my way through the Garden District as I mull over Michele’s proposal.

Sienna D’Amico.

Admittedly, the name doesn’t have a terrible ring to it.

My face twists into a grimace as I spot the Calvani family mansion looming ahead, and I cross the street out of sheer principle.