Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He hated my last name for everything my father had done to him and his family. But me…
…he hated me for the single act of running away.
Amelia was the light in my eternal darkness.
Until she wasn’t.
Until she betrayed me like every other Lamorgese. I wouldn’t let her escape. I couldn’t, not when she was the only anchor to something I’d lost. My last salvation.
She would become my wife—the unwilling princess at my side.
I never wanted to make her pay for the scars her father had left.
But I would make her pay for breaking my heart
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Nestore Romano was destined to rule over his kingdom. It was his birthright. His indisputable fate until my father betrayed his oath and locked him in a cage to torture and humiliate. It was the end of Nestore. It was his rebirth too. I witnessed both. My heart splintered into a million pieces each time.
The first time I met Nestore, he was fifteen, and I was twelve. My father, his third wife, Flavia, and I had been invited to the Romano estate to celebrate Nestore’s birthday. The Romano mansion was a sprawling estate on Mount Hollywood, in the midst of Griffith Park, with a jaw-dropping view over downtown LA, Hollywood, and the Pacific Ocean.
If my father hadn’t given me a scowl that sent ice through my veins, I would have gawked at the elegant foyer with its sweeping staircase leading up to a grand entry hall with a sixteen-foot-high ceiling forever. The crystal chandelier dangling over our heads alone probably cost more than the average person earned in a year, or ten. Not that anyone invited today knew anything about the worries of ordinary people. The royalty of the Camorra, the Italian mafia family ruling over the West Coast, had come together to celebrate Nestore’s birthday.
The maid, dressed in a long black dress with a white lace apron, motioned for us to wait as she rushed off to get the master of the house. Laughter and soft music drifted down from the upper floor. Several minutes passed in which Father’s face reflected his rage over being forced to wait on someone. His ash-brown brows grooved, and his jaw clenched while his mustache gave that impatient twitch that made my heart race.
Romano Senior, as his boss, was one of the very few people who dared to do so, and even that was a thorn in his side. Father thrived on power, and the lack thereof in the presence of Romano Senior would dampen his mood all evening. Flavia’s face twisted with anxiety as she glanced my way. She twisted her gold wedding ring around her finger. Her makeup was immaculate as always, except for one tiny spot at her throat, where it revealed the hint of a bruise. I tried to catch her gaze to warn her, but her worry-filled brown eyes kept darting between Father and the space where Romano Senior needed to appear before Father lost it.
I smoothed my fingers down my ball gown, the softness of the silk soothing my nerves. The crimson of the fabric clashed with my strawberry-blond hair, but Father had insisted I wear it, and there was no arguing with him. Not that I’d ever dare to try, even if I favored darker shades of red.
Flavia too was dressed in a sweeping red gown that matched Father’s scarlet tie. It was Father’s favorite color. Maybe that was why he enjoyed spilling blood so much.
The maid appeared on the winding staircase. “Please follow me upstairs. Master will welcome you in the grand entry hall.”
Father stalked ahead as if we were ballast he was glad to leave behind. Flavia and I rushed to follow him, but our long gowns made it difficult.
To my surprise, Father looked moderately calm when Romano Senior and his son Nestore Romano finally stalked into the grand entry hall through huge double doors only seconds after we’d reached this floor. Even at just fifteen, Nestore was almost as tall as his father, who towered over my father at an impressive six feet four. This was the first social gathering I was allowed to attend, and given that it was not only the Romano heir’s birthday but also his induction to the Camorra, it was a major honor.
Romano Senior and his son stopped in front of us. My father shook both their hands, wearing a smile I recognized as fake from a mile away. I inconspicuously scanned Nestore. His dark hair was loosely swept away from his face. It looked as soft as silk, a contrast to the sharp angles of his face. His pronounced cheekbones and strong jaw made him look older than fifteen. When his gaze hit me, my belly flipped at the mesmerizing color of his eyes. They were green with flecks of amber brown and impossibly stunning.
“That’s my daughter, Amelia.” My father’s sharp voice tore through my staring, and I ripped my gaze away with heated cheeks. With a charming smile, I shook Romano Senior’s hand, wincing at the force of his grip. I braced myself when I held out my hand for Nestore. While his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt like that of his father’s. He gave me the hint of a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The bell rang, and a moment later, the maid rushed up the stairs, announcing, “Benedetto Falcone!”
I tensed. Romano Senior and my father sprang to action, rushing down the staircase to greet the Capo of the Camorra in the foyer. Falcone wasn’t a man you let wait or make come up into the entry hall. Flavia hovered near the gallery, which allowed a view down into the foyer, uncertainty filling her gorgeous face. She sent me a quick smile in reassurance before worry clouded her face once more. Nobody liked the prospect of meeting Benedetto Falcone.