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Prologue
My heart raced and with a sharp cry, I sat upright in bed. I blinked into the darkness wondering what had woken me so suddenly. It was dark in the bedroom, except for the ray of light from the moon through the window.
I tried to listen for noises in the house but failed miserably. My heartbeat was too loud in my ears. There had to be a reason I was startled out of sleep. However, the house had a state-of-the-art security system. I would have noticed if someone had tried to break in.
Wouldn't I?
To my chagrin, I knew full well I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep until I was sure why I had woken up. I leaned to the right of the bed and groped blindly for the light switch. What time was it anyway? Maybe it was late enough to justify getting up for the day?
My fingers brushing against the switch, I flipped it and blinked as I got used to the change in lighting. Just as I was about to lean back in bed and reach for my cell phone, I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye.
I jerked my head around, only to see my father standing in the corner of my bedroom, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. At the waistband of his pants, I spied the gun he never left the house without. How had he tracked me down in the first place? Emilio had promised he would not find me!
"No," I gasped. How realistic were my chances of jumping out of bed and reaching the door? Would I make it downstairs and out of the house? Or had he brought his men, just waiting to immobilize me with a bullet?
Refusing to face the ice-cold realization, I shook my head and slid further back against the headboard.
"The game is over once and for all,tesoruccio."
"No," I repeated, more vehemently this time.
"You should think about whether you're going to volunteer to come with me or if I will have to drag you out of here by your hair." Disgusted, he wrinkled his nose as his gaze slid around my bedroom.
It was no comparison to the standards I had grown up with. But it wasmy kingdom,which was what counted—nothing else.
"You can't just come here and expect me to go with you. I'm an adult."
"And you probably think you're living a successful life of your own, too." He laughed.
That stung because yes, I did. For almost three years, if I thought about it.
How had he found me? Why was I still alive if he was angry about what I had done with my life after fleeing him?
"I'm not going anywhere," I declared, though I knew how useless it was to resist him. Part of me had always known that one day he would show up to take me home. The rest of me didn't want to believe it and hoped to be forgotten. It was the only way I could live a self-determined life without his influence.
"I was already afraid of that," he muttered.
The door was pushed open, and two men came in. Automatically, I pulled the blanket higher, even though it offered no protection from being taken against my will.
I knew the faces of the two guys. For years they had been devoted to my father—no use begging them for pity.
Tears suddenly pricked my eyes. I had missed my window of opportunity to escape for the time being.
"Last chance," my father informed me.
Instead of moving, I crossed my arms and shook my head. Even though that meant the men would grab me, right and left, lift me out of bed, and carry me outside to the dark limousine as if I weighed nothing.
"You are the worst father in all of Italy!" I shouted, even though it was no use.
I noticed the acrid smell of smoke. I jerked my head around, but the flames were already flickering up the tiny house's walls and spreading up the roof.
My heart contracted painfully at the sight, and the tears that had gathered in my eyes fell.
He'd destroyed what I had worked hard for. He'd ruined my home. And with it, any connection still existing between us.
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Vincenzo
