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CHAPTER 2
Mia
I learned how to hide my emotions at a young age, even from myself. When there are monsters in the dark—evil, ugly things happening behind closed doors—I developed the ability to paint my features just like I paint a canvas. So even as my heart is thundering and my mind is spinning—whoisthat guy?—I continue greeting the guests.
But Dante won’t leave my mind. He was tall, his hair dusky with a few flecks of silver, his eyes dark and intense. There was something about the way he looked at me that forced me to turn away. My body is experiencing things it has absolutely no business experiencing.
I promised myself a long time ago that I’d keep these sorts of feelings far, far away. Ignoring guys was easy until a few minutes ago.
A brushstroke in my mind paints Dante, highlighting his thick arms bulging out of his shirt, his big chest, and the darkness inhis voice. Most of all, I think about his eyes, dark brown, almost black, seeming angry at everything, furious with the world.
I promised myself I’d die alone. No man. No marriage. No kids. I’m too broken for that.
Suddenly, my breath catches. What thehell?
It’s Tony Marino, Leonardo’s brother, and my dad. He’s the whole reason I left the West Coast as soon as I could after turning eighteen, the whole reason I’m staying with Leonardo and Alessia. Not that I toldthemDad was the reason. I just said I wanted a change of scenery.
Dad swaggers over to me, his thumbs looped through his belt, grinning from ear to ear. He’s a short, broad man, but seeing him that way is difficult. In my head, red paint flickers around him like flames. His eyes glow a devilish red, not in reality. Notreally, but that’s how it feels, how he seems.
“Mia,” he says, leaning forward as if to kiss me.
I take a small step back. I hate, hate,hatethe fear that’s pulsing through me right now, this animal fight-or-flight. It feels so pathetic, so sad. It makes me feel like a loser. I want to scream, but there’s deep programming in me—rules embedded before I even had memories—that keeps me silent.
“D-Dad,” I whisper.
He grins, flashing his silver tooth, bringing back twisted memories of him smiling at me in other contexts. “Surprised?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Good surprised or bad surprised?” he says.
He doesn’t want the honest answer. He never has. “Good.”
He takes his hands from the thumb loops and claps them together, grinning like this is the most fun he’s ever had. “Excellent,” he beams. “We need to have a discussion in private. Okay?”
My skin buzzes in an ugly, sick way. All the warmth from a few moments ago evaporates. “I told Alessia I’d greet the guests.”
“Who would you rather disappoint, your aunt or your dad? Hmm?” He’s still got a smile on his face, but his tone tells me everything I need to know.
“My aunt,” I say, feeling so weak, hating myself, hating the secret burning inside of me, hatinghim, but knowing there’s nothing I can do.
Dad nods. I turn, leading him into the house. He takes my arm and drags me to the left, down a hallway opposite the party guests. He basically pushes me into the guest room and firmly shuts the door behind us.
Already, I’m distancing myself. It’s like the world is becoming a tapestry of art. Ugly hues and sinister shading outline everything.
“Don’t worry,” Dad says. “You got even fatter since coming here. I don’t want you forthat.”
He says this as though I should be grateful. And the messed-up part? I am.
“But I do need your help,” he goes on. “I need you to do what you’ve always done so well, Mia. Play a role. Can you do that for me? Will you?”
I should spit in his face. I should slap him. I should scream for help—get Luca, Elio, Colt, or Leonardo in here. Yes, Leo. I’ll tellDad’s big brother how much of a monster he is, but something about Dad’s presence turns me into a different person.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“That’s the right answer.”
CHAPTER 3
