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1
Antonio
Hushed whispers filter through the crowd as I approach the casket.
Manuel D’Sousa was a formidable player in our world before cancer ravished the hulking giant, leaving him a hollow shell dusted with mortician’s rouge. Even a skilled undertaker couldn’t conceal his sunken chest and gaunt features.
As I peer into the satin-lined coffin, the din of the room fades, until there is only his dying directive echoing between my ears.
“After I’m gone, Quinta Rosa do Vale will be yours. In exchange, you will marry my daughter. You will protect her from my enemies and yours—with your life, if necessary.”
My gaze sweeps over D’Sousa’s lifeless body, stopping at his face, as though waiting for him to come to his senses—to drag himself from the bowels of hell, and grab me by the throat until my eyes bulge from their sockets.
But there is only an eerie stillness about him.
Is this what you really want, old man?
You’re leaving me with your prized grapes and your innocent daughter? Me? A man so depraved, he would kill his father with his bare hands, while cursing himself for not having done it sooner.
This is the life you want for your precious child?
Now it’s too late to change your mind, fool. Too late for her. Too late for me.
Our fate is sealed in blood.
Till death do us part.
Maybe I’m the fool.
2
Antonio
Istep away from the casket, into the receiving line, quietly taking note of the tear-stained faces in the room. Normally I don’t stand on line for anyone, but it’s good for the locals to see me paying my respects.
The D’Sousas have always been well-loved in the valley, especially Manuel’s late wife, Maria Rosa, who fed the hungry and championed the underdog. In an ugly twist of fate, she was murdered in the street by the very type of person she took under her wing. The sonofabitch slit her throat in broad daylight.
It happened six years ago, hours before my father drew his final breath. Although the two events were unrelated, people whispered that God had taken an angel, but spared us the devil.
I don’t believe in most of that shit, but even I have to admit, the universe works in mysterious ways.
Maybe it can use some of its magic to get this damn line moving.
I glance toward the long, windowless wall where Cristiano, one of my most trusted men, is standing, his sharp gaze scouring every inch of the packed room for trouble. If it’s here, he’ll find it.
The line begins to thin as it winds beyond the casket. Soon, I’ll catch a glimpse of my future bride.
My future bride. Just the thought of it makes the acid churn in my gut. The very last thing I need while securing my hold over the region is a wife.
It’s not personal. I haven’t seen her in years, and it’s been even longer since we spoke.
The last time, she was about ten or eleven,riding a horse that was much too large and spirited for a young girl. She had no trouble controlling the powerful animal. I remember being impressed by her skill. When I praised her, she smiled coyly at me from the saddle, her lively eyes sparkling with mischief.
She’s not smiling today, and the sparkle has been replaced with a veil of grief.
Daniela D’Sousa is dressed in black from head to toe, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, like any dutiful daughter mourning her beloved father. But she’s not justanydaughter. She’s the D’Sousa princess,a princesa, the closest thing to royalty in these parts.
As I inch closer, I see how young she is—and vulnerable, with the glazed expression of a teenager who has been dragged through hell and survived. No doubt the last weeks of her father’s life took a toll on her, and now, at just eighteen, she’s faced with the daunting task of carrying on a storied family legacy—alone. At least that’s what she believes.
