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CHAPTER 1
Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell’ora della nostra morte.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
— the words every Made Man recites upon a death.
JESSICA
“Jessica, your father wants to see you in his office.” My mother, Casmundina Bonardi, had just dashed into my bedroom and was acting all dramatic as usual.
“You mean right now?” I asked her.
“Yes, straight away. What on earth are you wearing?” She grimaced as she saw me dressed in my lilac sundress, with my dark, wavy hair pulled back into a simple French braid that was already starting to unravel. “I thought I told you to get rid of that dress. It’s shabby and does nothing to enhance your plain features.”
It was a hot day here in L.A. and my outfit was perfect for the weather. “But, Mother, I like this dress and you know it’s my favorite.”
“You’re eighteen years old now. That dress makes you look like you’re fourteen and still a schoolgirl.” She seemed to have forgotten that Ihadbeen a schoolgirl until just a couple of weeks ago when I’d finished high school.
“I thought it would be okay to wear it since I’m just spending the day at home—”
My mother cut me off. “There’s no time to change now. You know your father hates to be kept waiting. You need to put some shoes on.”
She threw open my closet door and grabbed a pair of five-inch spiky heels for me to slide my bare feet into. My mother had bought these shoes for me some time ago, though I had so far managed to avoid wearing them.
The sparkly gold shoes looked ridiculous with my dress, but there was no time to argue over her choice of footwear.
“Pronti?” My mother asked if I was ready. She always broke into Italian when she was nervous. Or when she was excited, or happy, or sad, or angry—so, basically, when any sort of emotion reared its head.
“I think so.”
“Quickly now, you don’t want to anger him.”
She was right—I definitely didn’t want to anger him. My father, Cecilio Bonardi, was a Made Man—a man initiated into the Mafia. He’d always been fairly short-tempered; however, after the recent kidnapping of my older sister, Juliana, he’d been as explosive as a piece of dry tinder. I really missed Juliana—I hoped she would be home soon and that things would go back to normal.
I rushed downstairs to the office.
As I hastened my step, I ran my palms over my wavy hair, trying to smooth any stray tendrils. Maybe if my hair looked half-decent, my father wouldn’t notice my dress.
I knocked on his office door, waiting as always until I heard the deep ‘enter’.
I opened the door to his office, hoping that he wasn’t irritated with how long it had taken me to answer his summons. As I hurried into the room, I suddenly came to an abrupt halt as I realized that he was not alone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Father. Mother said that you wanted to see me? I didn’t know that you had company. I’ll come back later.”
“No, Jessica, stay. We’ve been waiting for you.”
My heart started pounding in my chest. In the room was the Capo, Emanuel Santino—he was the boss of the Società Mafia. From their base in Los Angeles, the Società ran their criminal empire and ruled over the West Coast.
The Capo sat in one of the wingback leather chairs in front of my father’s desk. Standing by the fireplace was his oldest son and heir, Gabriel, and his second son, Rafael. My thoughts were racing through my mind. I hadn’t done anything that could incur the wrath of the Capo…or had I?
I hated this room and had always tried to avoid this part of the house to minimize the chance of running into my father or any of the men who worked for him. And there were a lot of comings and goings, given that my father was one of Emanuel Santino’s Underbosses, meaning that he held a powerful position within the organization.
“Sit down,” my father commanded me.
In my haste to obey, I wobbled in my heels and lost my balance.
I managed to grab the edge of his desk in time, preventing me from falling flat on my face, although I couldn’t stop the flush from rising up my cheeks.
