ep 1

Toronto, Ontario Imet the devil the morning after my eighteenth birthday. Hungover and tired, I rolled over in bed, where my toes brushed against warm skin and crisp body hair. A friend of mine held a graduation party last night at her pool and my boyfriend, David, slept over after. We usually hooked up at his apartment, but I was too drunk last night and insisted on coming here. It hadn’t been easy sneaking him into the house under the watchful gaze of the cameras monitored by Papà’s men, but I was a pro. I’d been outsmarting the guards and the cameras for years now. The one thing the guards loved? Routine. Once you learned the routine, you could get around it and do whatever you wanted. Papà was the head of one of the seven families of the ’Ndrangheta in Toronto, a criminal network that stretched from Canada to South America to Italy. My father’s business was dangerous, so my two sisters and I weren’t raised as typical teenagers. Wherever we went, we were trailed by guards with guns inside their jackets—including to school. Our extracurricular activities were severely limited, our lives kept under careful scrutiny. Which was why I couldn’t help but occasionally sneak out. I was the responsible one, the big sister who began caring for my two younger siblings when our mother died. I deserved a break every now and then. A knock sounded at my door. “Frankie. Are you awake?” My father. Shit. Panic filled me. The first night I dared to have my boyfriend sleep over and my father was outside my door. This could not be good. Hangover forgotten, I grabbed David’s shoulders. “You have to get out of here,” I mouthed silently. “Like, now.” David nodded and hurried to dress, while I handed him his clothes. I looked at the door. “Papà, don’t come in. I’m not dressed.” “You need to get up and look presentable,” he said from the hall. “We have guests.” Guests? It was barely nine o’clock. “I’ll need at least an hour,” I said. “You have ten minutes.” I could hear the command in his voice. “All right,” I called. David zipped up his jeans and threw on his t-shirt. I opened the window and looked down. My bedroom was on the second floor, so it was high but not a death-defying jump. “Hang down from the window ledge and you should be fine.” A rough hand slid over my bare ass. “Maybe it’s time for me to meet your family, babe.” The idea almost made me laugh. My father would strangle David with his bare hands for daring to touch his precious daughter. “You have to go. Keep to the side of the house and out of sight. There is a path on the left and it leads to a wall. The cameras won’t see you there. Hurry.” He pressed a hard kiss to my mouth, then crawled out the window. I watched as he slowly lowered himself down, his biceps bulging with the effort. Before we graduated last month, he’d been one of the most popular boys in our senior class and captain of the hockey team. I was going to miss him when I left for college in August. David dropped to his feet and then gave me a salute. I blew him a kiss and shut the window, my mind already racing to Papà and the guests. After a quick shower, I braided my wet hair and dabbed concealer under my eyes. A swipe of mascara later, I threw on a prim dress that covered most of my body, as my father preferred. Instead of flats, I put on a pair of heels. I was tall, but I liked the way I looked in heels. Like nothing could stop me. Intimidating. Fierce. The house was quiet, my sisters still asleep. The sixteen-year-old twins, Emma and Gia, usually stayed up well into the night, watching movies and talking to their friends online. I would miss them when I went away to school, but they didn’t need me as much these days. They would be fine after I left. My heels popped on the marble floors as I approached my father’s office. I rarely went in here, seeing as how I’d rather not know what Papà was really doing most of the time. Ignorance was bliss when it came to having a family member in the mafia, let alone running it. I knocked and waited until I heard my father’s voice telling me to come in. He was seated behind his desk and the room was full of men in suits. Some faces were familiar, like Uncle Reggie and my cousin, Dante, but the others were strangers—and they all stared at me. “Francesca, come in.” My father stood and buttoned his suit jacket. Swallowing my nerves, I approached his desk. “You wanted to see me?” “Yes. This is Fausto Ravazzani.” A man unfolded from the armchair and my heart leapt into my throat. I’d never seen such a handsome man before, one with such thick, wavy dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was trim, with a chiseled jaw and broad shoulders, and his suit fit him perfectly. He looked to be in his late thirties, and under any other circumstances I would have guessed him a former model or actor. No one looked and dressed like this unless they were dependent on their looks for a living. But this was no prima donna. Power rolled off his taut frame in waves, like he was in control of everyone and everything around him. The men accompanying him clearly weren’t his friends, they were guards. He was someone important, someone worth protecting. And he seemed... dangerous. I nodded once. “Mr. Ravazzani.” His eyes drifted over my face and down my body, as if I were a horse he was considering purchasing. Tingles broke out along my skin wherever he looked, but I couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or embarrassment. Even more confusing, my nipples hardened in my thin bra, which I hoped he wouldn’t notice. The smirk on his face when he met my gaze told me he was aware of the state of my nipples. “You are eighteen?” The words rolled out of his mouth with an Italian accent and my heart gave an ominous thump in my chest. Were these men from Toronto? I doubted it. No one in my father’s employ had an accent this thick. “Yes, sir.” He nodded once to my father. “She’ll do.” She’ll do? “Do for what?” I asked. My father shot me a quick look before addressing Ravazzani. “Excellent. We’ll plan the wedding for next month.” “Wedding?” I screeched. No, no, no. I was supposed to go to college first. My mother made my father promise that all three of their daughters would be educated before marriage. I was counting on it. “What wedding?” “Quiet, Francesca,” my father hissed. I glanced at my cousin, hoping to find answers, but Dante wouldn’t meet my eye. Which meant this was bad. Really bad. Normally he relished my unhappiness. One of Ravazzani’s men entered and leaned down to speak in his ear. The edge of Ravazzani’s mouth curled as he listened, then he waved the man away. Returning his attention to my father, he said, “No. The wedding will take place at my home in Siderno, where Giulio resides. We leave tomorrow.” Giulio? And wait, Siderno? As in Italy? What the fuck was happening? Lines deepened on my father’s forehead. “But what about me and my family? We have a right to—” Stiffening, Ravazzani glared at my father, and the mood in the room went arctic. “Be very, very careful, Roberto,” he said softly. “You lost your rights when you lost my shipment.” Yikes. No one moved and the moment stretched. I’d never seen anyone put my father in his place before. No one had ever dared. I held my breath until my father finally put up his hands. “Mi dispiace,” he apologized. This appeared to appease Ravazzani, but I still had no idea what they were talking about. “Will someone please tell me what is going on?” I blurted, unable to hold back any longer. Ravazzani moved quickly, stepping closer, until he towered over me. His irises were so blue, with hints of gray, but they didn’t seem angry. Instead, he appeared amused. “You have spirit. That’s good. You will need it, piccolina.” Walking around me, he went to the door, trailed by five of his men. “I expect her ready, Mancini,” he said over his shoulder. Anger burned in my chest. Expected me ready? Like I was a piece of luggage? No one was carting me off to Italy. I was going to school in New York City, not getting married to some scary Italian man who was most definitely in the mafia. When the door closed, I rounded on my father. “Papà, what is this all about?” He dragged a hand down his face and dropped into his chair. Uncle Reggie and Dante didn’t move, but the rest of my father’s men left the room. “Sit, Frankie.” “I’d rather not. I’d rather stand until I know what’s happening.” Papà slapped a hand against the surface of his desk. “For fuck’s sake. Do as you’re told!” I hated when he spoke to me so coldly, like I was one of his men. Dante shook his head, clearly indicating he thought I was an idiot, and Uncle Reggie wore his usual frown. Pushing away the hurt and confusion, I slid into a chair. “There. Now please explain what is happening.” “You have been chosen to wed Ravazzani’s heir, Giulio. It’s a good match, Frankie. An honor, really.” An honor? I stared at the man who’d promised I would receive a college degree before marriage. Who said I could have my choice in a husband. Empty lies. Every single one. “Absolutely not. I won’t marry some stranger in Italy. I don’t want a mafia husband. I’m going to school in the fall.” My father’s face hardened into a scary expression, one I’d never seen before. I suspected this was his ’ndrina face, the mafia leader who did terrible things with no remorse. “You will do as you are told or people will die. People in this family. Is that what you want?” The threat hung in the air between us and I thought of my twin sisters upstairs, asleep and trusting. With no idea I was being forced to choose a life I didn’t want to secure their safety. It’s no choice at all. I would do anything for them. Though I was just two years older, I had been the one to care for them after my mother’s death. I taught them about boys and periods. Helped them buy bras. Dried their tears and managed their screen time. The backs of my eyelids started to burn. “Why is this happening?” “Alliances through marriage are a part of our world. There is nothing anyone can do to prevent this. I expect you to do your duty and make Giulio happy.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to ease the sudden cramping of my insides. How had my future changed so drastically? “But you promised,” I said weakly, fighting tears. His expression didn’t budge. “My promises to the ’Ndrangheta come first. Now, do not dishonor me. This is an opportunity for us to gain more power through your husband’s family. Ravazzani is one of the wealthiest men in Italy, the head of one of the largest clans, the ’ndrina which bears his name.” Power. Wealth. Was that all anyone cared about? I rubbed my eyes, uncaring if I smeared my mascara. “This isn’t fair.” “Grow up, Frankie,” Dante sneered. “Ravazzani is one of the highest-ranking men in all of the ’Ndrangheta. You’ll be married to his son, who will inherit everything one day. Any woman in our circle would kill for this chance.” “Screw you, Dante. I don’t want to marry a boss,” I snapped. “I want to go to school and get a degree.” Like I had been promised. College meant freedom from my father and his men. It meant living in New York City and going to clubs and bars, dating boys and drinking too much. I would study and have a career and live a normal life before I had to marry. It was all my mother had wanted for her girls. Be your own woman, Francesca. Don’t make my mistakes. She was a top Italian model before she met and married my father. While their marriage had been a love match at first, she said she always regretted giving up her career for him. “Stop,” my father said. “You’re acting childish. It’s been decided. Go up and pack your things. I expect you to be ready first thing tomorrow.” “But—” “Not another word, Francesca. You are leaving with Fausto Ravazzani and that is final.” I pressed my lips together and rose. The men said nothing as I left, thinking I’d agreed. That I’d willingly cross an ocean and marry a man I hadn’t met, just because my father screwed up with some mysterious shipment. They should have known better.

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