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Prologue
Gia
I’m the princess of darkness.
My father was the king. My brothers, princes.
I thought being a princess meant I would live in an extravagant world. Princes would be knocking at my door every day, wanting me. Or at least that’s what happens in all the fairy tales. In reality, I sit locked away in the castle, and wait. Men are terrified to date me unless it assists them in doing a deal with my family. The Carini name holds too much power in this town.
I want out of the tower I’ve been locked away in for far too long. Dating isn’t an option unless my brothers have vetted the man and deemed him worthy first. To ensure him dating me doesn’t fuck with their empire. That’s all they care about.
But things are changing. I’m not the girl they can lock away in the tower anymore. They can’t keep me hidden from the world. I want to be free. If prince charming won’t come to me, then I’m going to knock down walls to find him.
I’m a grown ass woman now. I can make my own decisions about what I want to do with my life. Just like everyone else in my family.
Father has been knocked off his thrown. He no longer belongs in this town.
Arlo is gone. He ran away with his own love, and I have a feeling he won’t be back. Ever.
And Matteo, he has a new plaything he’s already falling for. He may be the ruler of the Carini empire now, but soon the Carini empire will fall to love.
And when it does, where will that leave me? Alone, without even a tower to hide away in.
I apply my red lipstick and fluff my hair. I’m beautiful. I know that. I have deep olive skin, bright green eyes, and dark, flowing hair that falls down my back and stops just before the curve of my ass. I have striking features any woman would pay good money to have. My looks alone should be able to land me a handsome prince. If only I didn’t have my damn name to go with it.
It’s not fair. My brothers carry the Carini name with pride. As soon as a woman hears the Carini name fall from one of my brother’s lips, any woman falls at his feet, worshipping him, begging him to date her, fuck her, marry her.
Not me; men hear I’m a Carini and it sends them running. Well, the good guys at least. Occasionally, there is a man who hears my name, and it makes him want me more. Because he thinks dating me will get him an in with my brothers. Those men are disgusting. They are old, gross, and twisted. They are involved in a dark world where stealing, rape, and murder are everyday occurrences.
I don’t want to belong to the dark world I grew up in anymore. It served me well when I was a kid. I had a dozen rooms to myself. I never had to lift a finger to do a chore, make myself food, or go to the store for anything as simple as a toothbrush. I got to go on the best vacations to the most exquisite places in the world. France, Bahamas, Greece, Australia, Maldives, Botswana - you name it, I’ve seen it all.
But now, I want my own life. I’m tired of being the dark princess. I want a normal life, with a normal boyfriend who has a normal job.
I frown, there is no way Matteo is going to let me date a normal guy with a normal job like a teacher or mechanic or something. He will say no normal guy will be able to offer me the protection I need to keep myself safe.
But maybe, normal is exactly what I need to escape this life. No one in Matteo’s world is going to care about me if I’m with a boring man who makes no money. I have plenty of money saved, what would I do with more money, anyway?
Tonight, I’m going to find an ordinary man. I look down at my dark black dress, fit for Cinderella to wear to the ball. Or at least, for Cinderella’s wicked stepsister. A dress like this isn’t going to work to find a normal man. A dress like this will attract a prince.
I step into my closet, although ‘closet’ isn’t the best word to describe it. It’s more like a dressing room filled with all of Italy’s designers’ most expensive dresses. Complete with a different high heel for every occasion. I love my collection of dresses and elegant shoes. But if I keep wearing them, I’m going to remain trapped in this world. I need to change.
So I slowly slip out of the sparkly dress, until I’m standing in my black heels, stockings that attach to my garter belt, and strapless bra complete with dark embroidered roses.
What do ordinary Italian women wear when looking for a man to take them home?
My hands run over the different fabrics. Silk, lace, chiffon. So many gorgeous fabrics cut to fit my body. I stop when I get to my dark jeans.
Jeans.
I’ve never worn jeans out of the house. I always wear a dress or a skirt. Jeans are meant for bumming around the house. Relaxing, not gaining the attention of a man.
I grab my darkest, nicest pair. One I don’t think I’ve ever even worn before. I slip it on and then scour my shirts. I settle on a simple black tank top with a little lace around the bust. This is the most underdressed ensemble I’ve ever put on. I feel wrong to be wearing something so informal.
This is what I want. I want to fit in. I want to be seen as more than a princess. No one will ever suspect me being anything but ordinary.
Now for slipping out my house unnoticed.
I walk to my bedroom and stare down at my phone lying on my dresser next to my black purse. I grab the phone to slip it into my purse, but then think better of it. Matteo can track me with my phone. I can’t bring it with me.
I leave it on the nightstand, slip my purse strap over my shoulder, and strut out of my bedroom.
I walk straight to Angelo, my security team lead and prison guard, for all intensive purposes.
“I’ll be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Of course, Miss Carini.”
My lip twitches when he calls me Carini. I need to think of another name when people ask what my last name is tonight.
“First, can you fix the door lock to my bathroom? It keeps giving me problems.”
“Of course, Miss Carini. I’ll have it fixed and then meet you at the Lamborghini in twe
nty minutes.”
I purse my lips. “Thank you.”
I strut by him like I’m headed to the bar to fix myself a drink before I leave. Angelo thinks I’m meeting with friends at the local bar tonight. But I don’t plan on doing anything typical. I plan on taking the least flashy car we own and driving it at least an hour away to the farthest, yet practical, town I can find. Then I plan on going to the busiest bar and find a man who wants me.
When Angelo enters my room, I make a hard turn to my right and head straight for the garage. I walk to the large, black Suburban. It’s not mine. It is a car the security team uses to drive around on the grounds when they need to get somewhere fast. I stare at my Lamborghini that I really want to drive. It’s fast, expensive, and a joy to drive. This thing is a tank that burns fuel for no reason, unlike my Lamborghini that brings fuel to life.
I can’t drive the Lamborghini.
