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Prologue
CECELIA
Technically, I’m a prisoner. It’s the most breathtakingly beautiful prison I’ve ever seen but I’m still trapped here, within its very high and many walls, unable to leave until he says so. Through the crack in the heavy door, I watch him begin to descend the wide marble staircase, his presence filling the grand hallway of his mansion. Yes, I’m a prisoner, but my captor is also my hero. He saved me. He is keeping me safe, for now.
He must sense my intense gaze as he looks up sharply, pausing between steps. I gasp as his dark brown eyes lock with mine, causing me to freeze and flush with heat simultaneously. I feel an invisible pulse between us. We’re connected. I feel like we’ll always be connected.
The corner of his mouth twitches with the hint of a smile and I want to open my door wider, to invite him inside…
“Capo, we need to talk.” A new voice I don’t recognize rises from the hallway below and steals his attention from me. There are lots of voices around here. I’ve observed and overheard enough over the past few days, while I creep like a shadow through the art-filled corridors and around the spacious rooms, to know that Michael Luciano is a very busy and important man. It seems as though everyone constantly wants answers from him. Including me.
I wait until Michael’s dark glossy head has disappeared from view and his assured footsteps have receded, before closing the door and crossing over to one of the tall sash windows that overlooks the magnificent, immaculately landscaped gardens. A minute later he reappears on the raised rear terrace with another man—older, rotund—presumably the man whose voice I heard in the hallway. They’re both dressed in pinstripe suits despite the pleasant pre-sunset weather, but Michael wears his better. He looks fresh and handsome, as unruffled as always, the brown tailored three-piece skimming his tall and lean but muscular body perfectly. His shoes are shined to a mirror finish.
Perching on the cushioned window seat, I watch as the older man becomes animated then intense. Michael’s face hardens and he takes out a cigarette and begins to smoke, pacing up and down the terrace slowly while the other man waits for his reply. Something big is going on, I can sense it, but this is how it works: everyone waits patiently for the boss’s response.
I know now that he is the newest Capo dei Capi of The Luciano Clan, that I’m ensconced in his mansion in Naples, and that he rescued me from a terrible situation, but what that situation was I still don’t know. My brain has blocked it out. Michael says it’s better that I don’t remember; that my mind and body need time to heal after my recent trauma. Maybe that’s true or maybe I need to know to be able to process it. To know why my wrists and ankles are still so sore and badly bruised, why my scalp is crusted with blood, why I wake up screaming in the dead of night. I instinctively trust that he knows what’s best for me, but I also know this: I miss my family. Papa and Connie and Raphael. They’ll be going out of their minds with worry, wondering where I am. I want to be able to tell them that I’m here, being looked after like a princess by a kind, gentle man.
“Miss DeMarco?” I startle as I hear a woman’s voice call my name followed by a brisk knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say after a moment.
Carmina, Michael’s housekeeper, appears. Her short gray hair grazes her earlobes, and she has a kind but weary face. She’s attended to me well these past few days, under Michael’s instruction, of course.
“Signor Luciano requested that I draw you a bath. It’s ready for you. Please use the intercom system if you need any assistance.” She clasps her hands in front of her.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Signor Luciano also requests your presence in his study this evening. Nine o’clock.”
She nods once and leaves before I get the chance to reply, but I’m not sure I could speak even if she was still here. He has requested my presence. My heart is already hammering in anticipation. I turn back to the window and look down to the terrace and Michael is now out there alone, gazing out over the vast grounds. Like I’m pulling him by an invisible thread, he turns his head toward me, and his beautiful eyes raise upwards. We stare at each other. Nine o’clock can’t come soon enough. I want answers. I want to know exactly what happened to me and exactly how long he intends to keep me here. In return, I’m going to show him exactly how grateful I am for the care he’s given me.
One
CECELIA
“How lucky are we to have such a wonderful papa, Cece? Just look at this view!”
Connie leans out over the balcony, her arms thrown wide to illustrate the beauty of Mount Vesuvius ahead and the glistening bay of Naples below. It is truly stunning.
“Pinch me,” I reply, joining her and offering her my arm. “I want to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
She laughs and pinches my skin, harder than I expect.
“Ow!” I say, rubbing the now red area and pouting at her.
She laughs again. “I’m sorry, little sister, but you should be careful what you ask for if you don’t want to get hurt. Besides, you’re not a baby anymore, not now you’re eighteen!” She affectionately flings an arm around my shoulders, and we stand closely together, taking in the beautiful sight before us.
I rest my head on her shoulder and she strokes my hair. “I wish Mama was here to celebrate with us,” I say.
My eyes still instantly mist whenever I think about or mention Mama. It’s only been three years since cancer cruelly took her away from us, right when Connie and I needed her most. Since she’s been gone, Connie has truly excelled in her big sister role, despite only being two years older, always comforting me and supporting me and putting mine and Papa’s needs before her own. I’m so grateful for her. And our best friend Raphael.
She sighs. “I know, Cece. I know. But we will have a wonderful time, the three of us. It’s such a shame Papa has to stay in Sicily for business, but he has taken care of everything—this hotel, reservations in fancy restaurants, and exciting excursions. He and Raphael have been plotting for weeks, all in honor of you. So, let’s enjoy ourselves, yes?”
“Yes,” I agree, smiling up at her.
“Good.” She gives me a squeeze.
“Maybe we’ll make some new friends while we’re here too,” I say, gazing out over the bay.
