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Mercy.

I press my hand flat over Mom's locket and watch the city lights blur past the windows.

I’m going to need it.

6

SUNNY

The car pulls up to the curb, and Dante climbs out. Then my kidnapper-fiancé offers me his hand.

I look at the hand and ignore it, climbing out of the seat on my own.

If the snub bothers him, he doesn't show it. He just reaches back into the car, picks up my bag, and slings it over his shoulder.

I stand on the sidewalk and stare up at the building in front of me.

It goes up and up and keeps going, glass and black steel soaring into the night sky. Gold light pours out from the entrance and washes the sidewalk. Thirty feet above the doors, FORTUNE lights up the night in bright gold letters, and its glow stains the sky.

Around us, the street hums with activity. A line of town cars idles at the curb. Valets in gold-trimmed vests jog between them. A bachelorette party spills out of a limo in a shriek of sequins and perfume.

I've driven past this building my entire life, but I have never once been inside it.

Now it’s home.

I gaze up at it. "You live here?"

“I don’t just live here, Sunny. I own it.”

“All of it?” I try not to sound impressed, but this is a very impressive building.

“All of it,” he replies, leading me off the street and into the lobby of the casino’s plaza.

The moment we step inside, the plaza hits me all at once. Golden light is everywhere, gleaming off the marble and spinning through the chandeliers above us. It’s loud with all the bells and whistles of a popular casino.

People are everywhere, enjoying their evening.

Dante leads me toward a private elevator, presses the button, and the doors open immediately.

We ride in silence, me dwarfed by Dante and John Marco. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I suddenly feel very small and vulnerable next to them.

But it’s quickly forgotten when the elevator doors open, and I step into Dante Di Zaro’s penthouse.

Because wow.

It is stunning. I take it all in with silent awe. The dark polished floors. The floor-to-ceiling windows framing the view of the glittering city below.

I want to hate it.

Because I hate Dante and this ridiculous situation.

But this … this place is absolutely gorgeous.

The furniture is sleek and modern. Everything has sharp lines, cool surfaces, and muted tones of black, amber, and gold.

But it feels … empty. There is no love here. No laughter. No joy. No freedom.

I wonder what kind of man lives like this. Surrounded by millions of dollars' worth of cold perfection and not a trace of warmth anywhere.