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Chapter 1
Ion
I turned my green eyes towards the window of my penthouse apartment which overlooked the upper west side of Manhattan. I flicked my wrist to make the scotch in my glass slosh around impatiently as if I expected her to just show up on the street someday, looking up towards me as if she could see me. Yet, I spent eight years looking for both her and the bastards that took her, with no success. Most would not have waited so long, but I had my reasons. They were all selfish, and all valid.
The she in question was Mariana Vasile, the last remaining heir to the Romanian mob; a princess in her own right. She was the rightful next in line to run the clans, but she was a woman, and Romanians just did not see fit for a woman to be a leader. Maybe the Russians or the Irish did it, but the Romanians were all about tradition. So, the clans would pass on to her husband instead.
That would be where I come in.
She was promised to me when she was just days old.
Mariana was to be my queen, and I would be the king of the mob; the power of the infamous Vasile clan passing onto my shoulders as it had been planned since the day she was born. By now, I should have been married to her for at least six of the years she had been missing, but someone had seen fit to slaughter the Vasile line and take her, the last of the bloodline as the prize, probably believing that one day they would have the claim to the throne. The saddest part of it all is that she was she had only been 16 when they took her. I’d been working tirelessly, putting all of my resources into finding her. It had been years, and not one single trace of where she could be found had surfaced.
I’ll look, I’ll hunt, and one day I will bring my Ana home. She took my heart when she was just a child, at one of the few times we met. I knew from the time I was a small boy that she was mine, and that first meeting she took my heart with her.
Whoever it was who took her must not know me well. Ion Petran was the name I would shove down the throat of my enemy before I made him rue the day he tried to take that blood right from me. Nobody was going to take what was mine and get away with it – Ana – my promised throne, none of it. I didn’t care if my brown hair turned gray by the time I found her, I was going to get what I was promised and save her from whatever horrible fate she had been forced into all these years.
Just as it began to rain, water droplets pelting dramatically against the glass, I was pulled away by the incessant buzz of my cell phone. I was not in the mood to talk with anyone; obsessing over my next move to try and find the woman who was the key to everything I ever wanted, but I had to answer. The person on the other side could always have news of Mariana, and I was not going to miss that for the world.
"Buna," I said impatiently into the receiver, waiting to hear why one of my men had disturbed me.
"Domn, we have news that we thought you would like to hear," the thick voice of one of my associates came through the receiver. He was the leader of one of the several groups of men I had hired to hunt down those responsible for Mariana's disappearance and the murder of her parents. I’d spent millions on her search. It’s about time that they have something useful for me.
"Vorbi repede! Speak quickly! What do you know? What have you found?" I asked in a state of excitement. I waited with bated breath for the answer to my unworthy prayers over the last eight years, when I had shifted from a hopeful young man to an angry one with a vendetta.
"We believe we have a lead on the whereabouts of Miss Mariana Vasile." My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I wondered if I had misheard or maybe dreamed it. It had been years, and now they suddenly find a lead? What changed?
"Meet me at my office immediately. We have important matters to discuss," I ordered, recovering almost instantly. It was the best news I had heard in a long time, and I hung up, downing the rest of my scotch before I went to the closet. I pulled out my black Armani coat and pulled it over the button down I still had on from my investment meeting earlier. Even a man of the mob had to keep up appearances. The upper west side was full of men just like me, pretending to be something they weren’t while doing devious but lucrative things in the dark of night or the privacy of their lofts. So, as I climbed into the back of the black car with the tinted windows, I faded into the idea of the rich, mysterious, New York man, while I pondered on how much information my associates would be able to give me.
Eight years I had spent waiting for news of my Mariana, but her trail had gone dead far too soon. I had fallen into a routine of waiting; waiting for my life as head of the clans, beginning with, Mariana Valise by my side. No one could question me like the way they did now amidst the chaos that had become of the mob clans since the Valise king and queen had been brutally dethroned. If there was ever the perfect timing to find her, this was it.
I tried to relax in the back seat of the car, pouring myself a flute of champagne from the supply my driver kept well stocked for me, but not even the bubbles served to calm my nerves. Champagne is a custom, a common one for celebrations. Maybe today I will be celebrating the news I’ve been waiting years to hear. I was on some kind of high as I took the elevator up to the office space I rented out for the purpose of making it seem that I ran a legitimate business. Part of being a mob leader was mastering such deceptions. My father had taught me well.
As I sat on the only version of a throne I was afforded, for the time being, I looked expectantly at the man with the mustache and slicked back hair who was there representing his team of misfit investigators. They were the kind of men who were too dirty in their searching techniques for even the most crooked of police precincts.
The man’s gold-capped tooth glinted in the light as he smiled with a sinister gleam in his eye. “We know who has Mariana, domn,” the man offered happily.
I sat up in my seat, ready to leap into action at any moment. The name of my enemy was on the tip of this man’s tongue, and in knowing the name, I would have the power to bring my bride back to me. I could almost see her white blonde hair before me and smell her sweet scent that I remembered from when we were young children. She left that kind of impression on me, but maybe that was the powerful blood of hers and the smell of victory.
“Who was it?” I hissed impatiently.
“Jonas Masterson”
Chapter 2
Mariana
I screamed and fought, even though my body felt broken, and blood was everywhere. I screamed and kicked at the hacks that had just pulled the baby out of my womb after 20 agonizing hours of labor. That child was the only thing I had that was mine anymore, and even half of it belonged to my captor. I didn’t even know if it had blond hair or dark hair, or if it was a boy or a girl. It had been swooped up and led away from me.
In any other world, it would be insane to think someone would kill a newborn baby, but these were special monsters. I thrashed, even knowing it could ruin my recovery. I could kill myself in the process, to make sure they understood four years as their prisoner did not mean all the fight was gone. I was a Vasile. The fight was in my blood even if I had not found a way to escape yet.
Finally, concerned looks crossed their faces as one tried to hold me down to no avail. I screamed until there was nothing left, for that child. The man who took me four years ago, the one that brought this child into being, stepped into the room looking like he was disgusted. He looked upon the crying bundle in one of his associate’s arms as if it had leprosy, or worse. For a moment, panic came over me. After everything my body had undergone while pregnant, I did not know if that baby could come out alright.
Jonas glanced at me with his evil gaze before nodding in my direction. The baby came closer and closer, and I calmed, reaching my arms out in relief and exhaustion. "Keep that thing away from me," Jonas spat in my face as I looked down at a healthy baby girl. I did not care what I had to do to protect her from that moment on; I would do it. My life had changed, it wasn’t just about me – it was about protecting her.
I noted her blonde hair, just like mine, and her darker eyes that matched her father's, or rather, her sperm donor of sorts. It didn’t matter to me. She was beautiful, and she was mine. She would see the end of this slavery and torture, even if I didn't. "How do you like the name Bianca?" I whispered to her as I clutched her tight, afraid someone might take her from me again.
As if in answer, the tiny girl wrapped her whole hand around my pinkie and calmed. Yes, Bianca was the right name for her.
***
I sat up in bed, almost swallowed up by the lumpy mattress as I tried to gain my bearings. I had dreams about the birth of my daughter often, even four years after the fact. She had split my time here as little more than a slave to a man named Jonas Masterson, giving me a new purpose for the second half of my long and miserable stay here. Though, some things had been worse for me since her birth. Everything I did was to protect her.
Jonas still looked at the beautiful daughter he had helped create as a disgusting creature, an abomination. What did he expect when he began raping a 16-year-old? I was lucky it hadn’t happened immediately. I don’t even know how I didn’t end up pregnant within the first four years I was here, how I managed to become pregnant I have no idea, but I am thankful it didn’t happen when I was sixteen. I’d gone through enough, Jonas made sure that I did – the last thing I needed at that time was a child. I could hardly care for myself, emotionally, I was ruined. After years of being here, I’d learned to adapt to my surroundings – I’d learned to survive.
I was afraid the moment I knew that my body was changing. I knew that I was with child. I had to tell Jonas, but I was scared to. I knew he would not approve, even though he had had his way with me for years.
When I told him, I might be pregnant; that I had missed two periods, his reaction was violent. It continued to be this way even as my belly continued to swell. Though I am grateful he never forced abortion; I did not understand why he did not take me to get one. I had only to guess that he was afraid I would mention something to the doctor or that people would notice the oddity of our age difference. I had been only 19 at the time of conception, and though Jonas had never revealed his age to me, I knew he was, at the very least, 20 years my senior. The red flags may have led to my being taken away from him, and then he would have no claim to me or the Vasile name. Not that I felt he did anyway. That wasn’t the way it worked. Jonas seemed content with it all, though, even if I didn’t understand it.
I knew by instinct that it was early morning, almost time for Jonas to wake up and expect me in his room. I had to go by instinct because I was living in a set apart side of the upstate New York residence we had been in for years. The windows were blacked out. It was mostly a run-down hotel that was a high-rise, glittery sort of thing in its heyday. Now, it was full of seedy characters that were often coming and going. Jonas was easily one of the only permanent residents.
Where my daughter and I stayed was set up like a dingy, cold apartment. Something I was given following the birth of Bianca. We shared that place together, and that was where she spent most of her days unless Jonas left the house. I refused to let her cross his sight most of the time, still afraid after all these years he would hurt her or take her from me. I wouldn’t put it past him; he’s a special type of monster, the vilest of men.
