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 MERCILESS VOWS
THE SEVEN DEADLY SINACORES
BOOK ONE
AIDÈE JAIMES
 Merciless Vows
The Seven Deadly Sinacores, Book 1
by Aidèe Jaimes
copyright @2023 by Aidèe Jaimes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, reproduced, or
shared without written consent from the publisher.

TRIGGER WARNING: As with many dark romances, readers should

expect explicit, dubious consent scenes, as well as gore and violence.

Cover Design by: Kim Wilson at Kiwi Cover Design

Image by Michelle Lancaster: INSTAGRAM @lanefotograf
www.michellelancaster.com
Model: Reeff
Edited by: Midnight Library
Copyedited by: R.C. Craig
 CONTENTS

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue

About
Books By Aidèe Jaimes
PROLOGUE
 CARINA

S omething borrowed, something red. If he finds out who you really are,
consider yourself dead.
I stare at the crimson roses my father sent me. Thank you, the note
stuck between the flowers read.
Thank you. Not congratulations, or here's to the first day of the rest of
your life. Not even a best wishes.
He didn’t write any of those things, because ‘thank you’ is the only
appropriate thing to say when someone gives up their life for you.
I pluck one of the flowers and walk to the freestanding mirror sitting
against the wall.
Only days ago, I looked upon the vision my sister made in this wedding
gown. The ivory satin was painstakingly decorated with lace, pearls, and
crystals. The delicate veil an import from Italy.
Tailor-made for her the day she agreed to be handed over to one of the
most ruthless kings of the New York underworld.
She was the payment he demanded for a debt my father could not
afford.
Then she ran.
Pain lances through my palm, and I glance down to the rose I’m fisting
tightly. Its thorns pierce into my skin. Blood trickles along stem and drips
onto the pristine fabric of the dress I now wear, staining it crimson.
It’s almost poetic, seeing the way my lifeblood spreads. It’s the price I
pay for being the identical twin of my father’s favorite daughter. The curse I
bear for loving them both.
 Luca Sinacore will not take kindly to deceit. He’ll consider it a betrayal.
A default on a loan that must be repaid one way or another. The terms were
clear. My sister as his dutiful bride or my father’s blood on his blade.
Thing is, the very docile and submissive nature that makes Alma the
wife Luca desires is the same thing that made her run. Like a little lamb
who realized the lion would eat her alive if she remained.
A single tear rolls down my cheek. The only one I’ll allow myself to
shed.
All my life, I’ve known a fairy-tale ending wasn’t for someone like me.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want it. The husband who would love me till
death do us part. Someone who would care for me when I become ill, want
babies with me, give me their heart and soul.
Now, instead of marrying the prince of my dreams, I’ll be tied to a beast
who’s already made his disdain for me clear. I’ll have to pretend I don’t
hate him as fiercely as he does me. And I’ll have to pretend to be as
submissive as my sister.
Can I really keep up such a ruse?
Damn it, Alma. For being identical twins, we couldn’t possibly be more
different.
I grind my teeth as I imagine her alone and afraid. Wondering where the
hell she went. Well, wherever she is, she’s safer than she would be here.
That’s why I have to do it. If I don’t take her place, he will not only kill
my father, but he’ll hunt her down and kill her too.
Of course, if he finds out I’m not Alma, I’ll be the first one dead. I can’t
let that happen. No big deal, right? All I have to do is pretend I’m
everything I’m not.
The wedding planner’s assistant reflects in the mirror as she enters the
room. “Are you ready, Miss Di Persia?”
I wipe my tear and straighten my spine. “Yes.”
She hands me the bouquet of white roses, her movement faltering when
she spots the blood on my dress. “You’re bleeding!”
Bending over, she pulls out pins from a pocket and begins to gather the
material. When she’s done, the stain is completely concealed. How apropos.
“Thank you, Selena.” And don’t worry about where the blood came
from. It’s the least of the pain I’m sure to feel.
She hooks her arm out toward me. “Shall we?”
 I’m taken to the Hope Trinity Catholic Church half an hour away from
the house. The driver opens the limousine door for me, and I step out to find
my father is waiting for me at the intricately carved double doors of the
chapel.
He flicks his gaze to the man standing by the vehicle. Luca’s man.
“Alma, you look stunning,” he says, bringing me close to him. Placing a
kiss on my forehead, he whispers, “Thank you.”
There aren’t enough thank yous in the world to repay what I’m doing
for him. If only he’d kept his word and stayed away from the criminals who
promise riches in exchange for loyalty, when all they actually give is pain
and death.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I nod and hook my arm through his. “Let’s
get this over with.”
We go up the marble steps to the double doors that are opened by the
two guards posted. An impeccably dressed man wearing a black-on-black
suit and an earpiece escorts us through the main foyer, toward the hall
where the ceremony will take place.
My heart beats louder in my ears the closer we get. It’s as if I’m heading
to my execution, where the drumming becomes almost deafening, drowning
out the sounds of the violinists beginning to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
That’s our cue to enter.
Hell, here comes the bride.
I tighten my hold on my father when the doors to the chapel open,
slowly revealing the hundreds of guests standing at attention. Waiting for
me.
Yet they’re not what hitches my breath in my throat as my feet attempt
to root to the floor. It’s the man standing at the altar at the other end of the
aisle.
Luca turns to us, his hard gaze locking onto me. He doesn’t smile,
doesn’t give any hint of his emotions. He doesn’t need to, because I know
them all too well. He wanted her, not me. And if he ever learns of my
deceit, he will make me pay.
A vise seems to wrap itself around my chest as my father tugs me
toward him. The doors slamming shut behind us gives finality to our choice
to follow through with this lie.
In a few moments, I will be Luca Sinacore’s wife.
To save my family, Carina Di Persia must die.
 1
LUCA

T hree Months Ago…

Crimson floods my vision as sheer, unadulterated rage sets my blood to

boiling. I take a step toward my brother’s body lying naked on the bed, his
throat flayed open. A penny over each eye.
I take one of the copper coins, almost wincing when I feel the cold flesh
against my fingertip, even through the latex glove.
“Pennies,” I say, aware that Uncle Ray is observing from behind me. I
glance at him over my shoulder. “That bitch got Tony.”
My uncle swallows thickly and wipes a lone tear that dares to slip down
his scarred cheek. “We have five minutes before we need to leave so the
police can begin their investigation. Put that penny back.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the police,” I grit through my teeth.
“Well, you should,” Uncle Ray scolds. “We need them to find out who
killed Tony, and you messing with things will only contaminate the scene.”
I huff. “This isn’t their business. It’s ours. We need to find the fuck and
mete out justice as we deem fit.”
“They have the technology to trace DNA and fingerprints. All we know
is that she’s a woman. We don’t have an identity. Until we do, we’re all in
danger.”
I push past my uncle to stare out the window. We’re in the presidential
suite of the Lazda Manhattan Hotel, ten floors above 57th Street. All roads
leading to the building have been blocked off, yellow tape marking this as
the scene of a crime. There’s nothing but cops below, waiting to enter and
begin the investigation of the murder of not only my brother and his
underboss, Dino Callo, but also six of their men.
It happened hours ago, but it’s taken this long to jump through the
hoops that would allow us time alone to view the scene for ourselves.
“They found your brother.” That was all my uncle had to say when he
called to inform me.
I immediately knew what he meant. I left in the middle of negotiating a
sale which cost me more than I’ve ever made on weapons, but I didn’t think
twice.
By the time my uncle and I arrived at the hotel, their bodies were
already blue and stiff. While Tony was killed almost ceremoniously, his
men were found in the adjoining room, shot, stabbed, and beaten to death.
Just like the others.
This marks the fourth head of a crime family within Chicago, New
York, and New Jersey taken down in the last few months. Though it’s not
uncommon that these things happen—it is a dangerous position, after all—
the similarities between them make it obvious it’s the same culprit behind
the murders.
They’ve all occurred during sex. Since none of the men were gay, that
means it has to have been a female. Tony figured that out.
It’s the same woman leaving her trademark coins. And even though
she’s also killed the guards, she only left them over the kingpin’s eyes. But
not just any coin. Pennies.
My brother knew this danger lurked. After Giuseppe Tadesco was found
in a dirty hotel room in Jersey, Tony called a meeting requesting the
attendance of every boss in the Northeast. Only two showed up. Even so, he
put out a warning. It didn’t matter if they were partners or sworn enemies.
He sounded the alarm for everyone. An alarm he himself didn’t seem to
heed.
Be vigilant.
Remain heavily guarded.
Do not allow unknown women into your bed.
“Luca.” Uncle Ray comes to stand beside me. He places his hand on my
shoulder and squeezes. “I loved Tony like he was my own. Whoever did
this will pay.”
 I nod as I grip the coin in my fist. “That, you can be sure of.”
“Say your goodbyes. We have business to attend to.” He begins to walk
away but stops when I speak.
“The only business I have is searching for Tony’s killer.” I’m seething,
my entire chest burning with the need for revenge. To do the same to the
person who took my brother.
“That’s incorrect,” Uncle Ray says. “With Tony gone, you have a whole
empire to tend to.”
My gaze flicks to his. “I’m not taking over his position.”
“Someone must take control, or there will be chaos. The Sinacores
cannot be seen as vulnerable at this time.”
“Then you do it,” I snap.
His lips form a thin line, and disappointment and frustration fill his
expression. “We’ll discuss this at Briar House.”
My jaw tightens as I glare at him, but I agree to leave the subject for
later. Turning away from him, I return to Tony’s side. I want nothing more
than to cover his nakedness. To shield him from the humiliation that’s to
come when a swarm of people enter the room to take photographs and
samples.
They won’t feel anything, of course, because they’re accustomed to
death. He will be nothing but another body. A criminal the world could do
without.
But to me, he’s my older brother. The one who protected me. Who stood
up for me. The only reason my father didn’t downright disown me.
“I don’t understand why he put himself in this position, when it was he
who alerted everyone to the danger,” I say, looking up from him to scan the
space.
Bottles of Unico wine and Dom Pérignon are strewn about, along with
half-filled highball glasses. White powder has been cut and left untouched
on a low mirrored table in the seating area, which doesn’t surprise me since
he never touched that shit.
It’s all drugs and alcohol against velvet and gold. Exactly what anyone
would expect to find in the fancy hotel suite of a mafia boss. But not Tony.
This wasn’t who he was.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” my uncle says. “Especially when it comes
to sex.”
 “Not Tony.” I shake my head, still processing the scene, trying to fit
what I know about him with what is being shown to me. “He was the
levelheaded one. His dick didn’t rule him. This wasn’t like him.”
“How would you know? As a matter of fact, when was the last time you
saw him?”
My jaw works furiously not to snap with a rebuke. The truth is, I hadn’t
talked to Tony since he called to tell me about the killer. It had been even
longer since I’d seen him in person.
“Veronica left him,” he continues. “He was lonely. Can you blame him
for wanting company?”
“No,” I say regretfully.
Maybe Uncle Ray is right. Maybe I don’t know my brother as well as I
think.
I kneel, take Tony’s frigid hand in mine, and send a prayer asking that
his sins may be forgiven and the blood washed from his soul.
Then, using the penny, I cross his chest and place it back over his eye.
That’s when I notice something I hadn’t before. I glance between the two
coins several times, and a piece of the puzzle begins to form.
“2006,” I whisper. I furrow my brow as I wonder if it’s sheer
coincidence or something more.
“What was that?” Uncle Ray asks.
“Both the coins were minted in 2006.” I remove the gloves and jam
them into my jeans pocket as I stand. “We need to go.”
Then, without looking back, I head to the door.
I hate to leave Tony this way, but if my hunch is right, I may be one step
closer to finding his killer. And getting revenge.
We leave through the back door, where the police and crime scene
investigators have been waiting. There’s no need to hide. Not when half of
them are on the Sinacore payroll.
Chief Hall watches us from inside his car and nods. He knows the
importance of keeping the information given to reporters as vague as
possible. Even if he didn’t know why, he’d do it.
I slide into the passenger seat of my uncle’s black Land Rover, then
through the rearview mirror, I see him signal his men to follow.
“Are you going to tell me now what you’re thinking?” Uncle Ray asks
as he enters the SUV and starts the engine.
“First, I want to confirm my theory.”
 Forty-five minutes later, we drive through the main gate and move up
the long driveway to my childhood home in Todt Hill. Briar House. The
large Victorian mansion my mother insisted on buying because it had been
her dream to live in an old place. She’d always loved history, and the house,
built in 1922, was perfect. But it scared the shit out of my brother.
“It’s creepy,” he’d said. “I think it’s haunted.”
If not for the sense of duty he felt toward the Sinacore legacy, I believe
he would have left the moment he hit eighteen.
The house scared me too when I was young. But in a good way. It
reminded me of the haunted mansions from the horror movies we watched,
with its pointy roof and dirty stained glass windows. Even after the house
was brought back from extreme disrepair, it seemed as if it had a life of its
own—the windows its eyes, its front door a mouth that would eat you
whole. An entity that was aware of us.
Tony was the scared one, yet I was the one who left. It wasn’t the house
I ran from, however, but the man who lived in it. I ran from the control he
attempted to wield over me. The nightmare our constant fighting created for
everyone. My complete inability to please him because I refused to bow
down to him, regardless of who he was.
Nico Sinacore was accustomed to obedience, and I wasn’t one to give it.
So the instant I got hair on my balls, I left to pursue other…endeavors.
One would have thought he would’ve been pleased about that. It only made
him angrier. How could I leave everything that came with being a Sinacore?
Money. Power. Respect.
It was easy, when I was reminded on a daily basis that none of those
things were mine. I hadn’t earned any of it. Probably never would.
“You are my biggest regret.” Those were the last words he spoke to me
before I walked out the door.
Nico Sinacore did not need another son. He already had one to follow in
his footsteps.
The family business was Tony’s deal, not mine. He was the one who
needed to be groomed into being the next Godfather of the Sinacores. It was
he who would lead the famiglia as my father did. My little sister and I were
just there for the portraits.
We pull under the portico, where several guards stand to attention. One
of them comes to my side and opens the door.
 “Mr. Sinacore,” he greets. “I am so sorry for your loss. Tony will be
missed.”
I step out and nod, finding it strange that he knows who I am even
though I don’t recall his face. Another reminder of how long it’s been since
I’ve been to Briar House.
Blowing out a long breath, I make to enter the house, but before I can,
my younger sister bursts through the front door.
She throws herself into my arms as huge sobs wrack her body violently.
“He’s gone, Luca. He’s gone!”
I embrace her slim frame tightly and run my palm over her back in a
poor attempt to soothe her. I’ve never been good at it. That was Tony’s deal
too. But for her sake, I try.
“When did you get in?” I ask her. “I didn’t expect you until tonight.”
“A few minutes ago.” She throws her thumb over her shoulder, pointing
to the luggage just inside the foyer as she sniffs and wipes her nose on my
shirt. “I took a cab.”
“Sofe, you know that’s not safe. Not right now.”
Victor, the family driver, along with an armed escort, was supposed to
pick her up from Columbia University.
“I couldn’t wait. We’re family. We should be together.”
“And you should learn to listen,” I scold, frustrated that she potentially
put herself in harm’s way.
She pulls away to stare at me with familiar blue eyes. “Listen? I’m not a
child.”
“You are to me.”
Annoyance fills her gaze even as fat tears roll down her cheeks. “I need
you to be my brother right now, Luca. Not my dad.”
I grind my teeth but nod. Her relationship with our father became
tumultuous toward the end. When she was little, Sofia was his princess. But
as she got older, her independent personality became a huge problem for
him. She wanted to explore the world around her; he wanted to keep her in
a bubble. That’s why she left, even though it meant going to the school he
chose for her and majoring in political science and government, something
she despises. But she was willing to do it for the illusion of freedom.
Knowing all this doesn’t make it any easier to give her the space she
wants. At twenty-one, she’s only eight years younger than me, yet it’s hard
to see her as anything other than a little girl. But now isn’t the time to fight.
 “You’re right, Sofe. I’m sorry.” I hug her to me again and kiss the top of
her head. “Uncle Ray and I have some things to discuss. Why don’t you go
up and settle in and come grab me when you’re ready for dinner?”
“Okay.”
“Hansen,” I say to one of the men standing around. “Take her luggage
to her room.”
“Yes, sir.”
I follow Sofia into the house, and she leads the guard to the suite that
has been hers since the day she was born.
Uncle Ray hands out orders to have extra security added to the
perimeter of the property, then follows me into Tony’s study.
A stab of regret pierces my gut the moment I see the space he spent so
much time in. He might have thought the house was creepy, but he never
changed it.
The walls are still covered in dark-blue patterned wallpaper and
mahogany paneling. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are still filled with old
photographs, not only of the family, but of the people who lived here
before. Photos my mother placed there because she thought there was
something romantic about them. Thick curtains still block out most of the
sunlight, making the tall windows almost pointless.
But that was just like Tony. He loved our mother. She decorated the
place and, in a way, keeping everything the same kept her alive for him.
Now they’re all gone. Mom. My father. Tony.
“Luca,” my uncle says, startling me, because I forgot he was here.
Rubbing my tired eyes, I go to sit behind the massive cherrywood desk
that’s original to the house and search the neatly kept drawers. “You said
the medical examiner gave Tony copies of the photographs taken at the
other scenes. Where would he have placed th—”
Before I can finish my sentence, I find a manila folder in the very
bottom drawer with the name Tadesco written in black Sharpie.
I pull it out and place it on the desk, then open it. Inside, I find several
photos of not only Tadesco’s death scene and autopsy, but of the other crime
lords’ death scenes and autopsies as well.
My uncle comes to stand behind me and peers over my shoulder as I
look through the pictures. “Will you tell me now?”
Flipping through the photographs again and again, I scan the coins
placed over their eyes. “Two thousand nine.” I point to them. “They’re all
pennies minted in 2009.”
“Shit.” His gaze flicks over the pictures. “How was that missed? That’s
what was on Tony’s pennies too.”
“Not exactly. I’d assumed they’d match, but his were 2006 pennies.” I
tug my phone from my pocket and type in 2006 and 2009 New York events.
Nothing comes up. Then I try it several other ways but can’t seem to
find the answer.
“Perhaps it was just a coincidence,” Uncle Ray offers.
Sitting back, I rub the scruff on my chin thoughtfully. “No. There’s
something more to this. A reason why those dates were chosen and why
Tony’s were different from the others.”
My uncle sighs and moves away to sit in the chair across from me. “We
need to talk.”
I look up from the desk. “What.”
“It’s time you returned home. Permanently,” he says with complete
seriousness.
“Again with this shit.”
“You must return, Luca! Being a petty thief is beneath you. This is what
you were born for. Take your place as the head of the famiglia before it all
disintegrates.” He slices his hand through the air in his typical dramatic
fashion. “Everything your father worked hard for, gone.”
I’m not in the mood for dramatics today. “You do it. The men know and
respect you. If you’re so worried about the Sinacores, you take control.”
“But you are Nico’s son!” He slams a beefy fist against the desk. “It’s
what Tony would want. It’s what your father would want.”
I laugh. “His son? I might as well have been one of his dogs. All he
wanted was to have me running around doing his dirty work.”
“He was teaching you,” he says.
“To be a soldier! I was never a part of any decisions. The moment I
opened my mouth to give an opinion on how things should be done, he
chewed me up and spit me out. We couldn’t have been more different, and I
highly doubt he would have wanted me in charge of anything.”
Now it’s his turn to laugh. “The two of you couldn’t have been more
similar if you’d been twins. That was the real problem. You weren’t meant
to follow. You were meant to lead, just like Nico. If you’d both seen it,
Tony would never have taken over.”
 I rear back in disbelief over what I’m hearing. “What the fuck are you
saying?”
“It should have been you, Luca! You should have been king of New
York. Instead, you decided to run off to be a low-life gangster on the
streets.” He shuts his lids and places his palm over his chest as if it pains
him to speak. “The Lord knows I loved Tony like my own. But he wasn’t
ruthless. He didn’t command the respect we needed to enforce our laws. We
lost half of our business because he was weak.”
Anger floods through me, and I stand so suddenly, the chair flips and
hits the wall behind me.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” I don’t yell it, yet my tone is laced with
venom. Then I stalk toward the door but turn to him before I leave. “You
disrespect the memory of my brother again, I’ll kill you.”
But the threat doesn’t scare him. Instead, it seems only to confirm what
he’s just said.
Leaning back, he sighs as pride fills his gaze. “Spoken like a true king.”
 2
LUCA

I slick my shoulder-length hair back and tie it neatly at the base of my

neck, all the while grimacing at the memory this simple action stirs up.
“You should cut it,” Tony said a few days before his wedding,
ruffling it as he passed behind me. “Looks messy.”
“Leave the hair alone,” I snarled.
“Come on. You’re the best man. Short and neat will look better with the
tux.”
“Is that you talking or Veronica?” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Both of us. We’re going to be one now, you know?”
Damn, he was so in love, I actually agreed. It was his day, and I wanted
to make him happy.
“Sure thing, boss,” I said, but when I sat in front of the mirror at the
barbershop, the little devil in me reared his ugly head.
Veronica’s face contorted as she came down the aisle toward the altar,
where we stood. Her eyes locked on my head, and I’m sure that had it not
been her wedding day, she would have killed me.
My father barely glimpsed my way, but when he did, his expression was
filled with disappointment as always.
Tony, however, took in the shaved sides of my head and trimmed hair
that hung several inches below my shoulders and smiled. “It suits you.”
I thought it did too. Even with a tux.
Not today, though.
The black suit my uncle had brought up a few hours ago fits me as
perfectly as something this expensive should. The gold cufflinks with the S
engraving glint in the low light provided by the chandelier.
 It’s been a long time since I’ve dressed in anything other than a T-shirt,
jeans, and black combat boots. Not since that day when I did it for my
brother.
Now here I am again. But it’s not a tux. No. It’s something much worse.
In an impulsive move, I rush into my bathroom in search of scissors, a
razor, anything to cut my hair the way he asked me to all those years ago.
But all I find are empty drawers, because I haven’t fully moved back yet.
“Fuck!” I grab the toothpaste, one of my few belongings that’s already
here, and toss it against the mirror.
For several minutes, I remain like that, breathing hard, staring at the
minty paste splattered over my reflection. Hating that I can still see myself.
“It suits you.” His words are a faint echo in my mind that settles me. Yet
the ache of knowing I’ll never be able to ask him if he meant it lingers.
After I’ve calmed enough, I head downstairs to wait for my sister and
numb some of the pain with a full glass of whiskey. But when I enter the
study, I find a large man in a black suit standing by the window. The bulge
on the side of his coat tells me he’s carrying a weapon beneath it.
“May I help you?”
He turns at the sound of my voice, and I let out a sigh of relief when I
see who it is. We take a few steps toward each other and embrace in the
way good friends do, with a quick slap on the back.
“Fuck, Gunn. I didn’t recognize you in this shit.” I pluck the fabric of
his sleeve.
“I could say the same about you,” he says. “Besides, I wasn’t going to
show up to your brother’s funeral in jeans and a T-shirt.”
My throat constricts, and I nod, suddenly finding it hard to speak.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, man. You’re my family.” He places his hand on my
shoulder and squeezes. “More of the boys wanted to come, but we all
figured your uncle wouldn’t be too pleased. We know how he feels about
us. Last thing we need is to take on the Sinacores.”
Yes, Uncle Ray has made it perfectly clear that the boys are unwelcome.
He calls them low-life street thieves. Though that couldn’t be further from
the truth. Based on some of the numbers I’ve seen, my little “gang” brings
in more money than the Sinacore business did. In fact, I think the legitimate
real estate investments were what Tony used to keep the family afloat.
“He was weak,” my uncle said.
 Tony wasn’t weak, but he did have a weakness. The Sinacore legacy is
strongly entwined with criminal activity, and Tony was a rule follower.
“Uncle Ray wants me to run the family,” I tell the man who’s been by
my side since we were teens.
Once, when I was just a kid, I stole a porn DVD from Troy’s Video
Store. Gunn Sinclair lived in a foster home down the street from there and
took the blame, even though he didn’t know me. Got him a ticket back to
the orphanage.
“You look like you got more to lose,” he whispered as he was escorted
out.
It obviously wasn’t true. But I don’t regret it, because what I gained was
a friend I trust above anyone else.
Gunn frowns as he processes what I’ve said. “If you run the family,
what will you do about our business?”
“I don’t—”
“Luca?”
I’m cut off by my sister at the door.
She’s dressed in head-to-toe black, and her expression is just as dark.
“I’m ready.”
Turning to Gunn, I nod, not needing to say a word, because I know he
hears me anyway. We’ll finish this conversation later.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” I say for the hundredth time and shake the hand that’s
extended to me.
“I was heartbroken to hear about Antonio.”
Another shake.
Uncle Ray, Sofia, and I are in a line beside the casket still hanging over
the open grave at St. Joseph’s Cemetery.
I can barely stand to glance at it, but keeping myself from doing so is as
hard as ignoring an elephant. I’m completely aware of its presence. Almost
as if my brother is calling me from inside. Look at me. I’m here. Look!
So I do. I turn to stare at the dark wood and gold casket my uncle chose.
Fucking gaudy thing seems more morbid with so much decoration. Not to
mention the heavy wreath of lilies that’s been laid on top of it. The smell of
them continuously being carried on the cool breeze is making me gag.
But not any more than the idea that within that box are Tony’s remains.
“So the prodigal son has returned.”
I snap my head around at the sound of the nasal voice in front of me.
Joaquin Gianni snickers, his fat lips pulling back to display two gold
teeth.
Uncle Ray tugs Sofia to the other side of him, ignoring her protests.
I rise to my full height, which is unnecessary given that the fucker is at
least a foot shorter than me.
Rolling back my shoulders, I ask, “What are you doing here, Gianni?”
“Easy,” he says with a leer, lifting his palms to me. “I come in peace.
Simply wanted to pay my respects.”
“Is that all?” My uncle throws his chin up. “Seems awful disrespectful
for the man who threatened to kill Tony if he stepped foot in Jersey to come
here now.”
“Hey. I don’t speak ill of the dead, but you know why I said what I
said.” He adjusts his black skinny tie. “Besides, with him and Dino gone,
territory disputes are too.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Nothin’. I’m just payin’ my respects is all.” His grin widens. “So, uh,
when exactly will you be leaving?”
“I. Am. Not.” I make sure to lace a hint of warning through each word.
Although I’m not speaking loudly, my tone must carry, because several feet
away, I spot Gunn alertly staring our way, ready to come if I need him.
Gianni’s brows nearly touch his receding hairline. “Is that so?” He
laughs. “Well, when you change your mind, New York will be in good
hands.”
I bend down so he alone can hear me this time. “Listen well, you short
fuck. New York is mine, and the only chance you have of ever getting your
hands on it is by prying it out of my cold, dead grasp.”
“Good to know.” He slaps his palm on my arm. “Guess I’ll be seeing
you around.”
“Who was that?” Sofia asks as Gianni retreats.
“None of your business, girl,” Uncle Ray replies before I can.
She scoffs. “In case you didn’t know, I’m part of this family too.”
“He’s no one of consequence,” I interject.
 “Really?” My sister crosses her arms over her chest. “Because it
sounded to me like he wants New York. Tony hasn’t even been buried yet,
and people already want to take what’s ours.”
I tilt my head down to look at her, surprised at what she’s said,
expecting to see that little girl who used to nag me to play dolls with her. A
child who should have no concept about the world she was born into.
She’s not little anymore, and she unfortunately knows about our world.
“No one will take what’s ours,” I hiss. “I won’t allow it. New York
belongs to the Sinacores.”
“But the Sinacores are done,” my uncle says, and I don’t miss the
amusement in his eyes. “You don’t want it. Remember?”
“New York is fucking mine,” I repeat.
With those words, I take a white rose from one of the large bouquets
flanking the casket and toss it on top with the lilies.
I may not want the city. But I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have it.

“What do you suggest I do?” I ask my uncle hours later as we sit in the
study to discuss exactly how I should step into Tony’s shoes. “The men
might not automatically accept me. They’ll either challenge me or disperse
and leave us with nothing.”
“That’s not true. Those men weren’t just loyal to Tony. They are loyal to
the family. If you want the job, show them you’re serious about it. They
will follow. Everyone knows of your little side business,” he says, making
me cringe.
“A little business that could have put the Sinacores out of business if it
wasn’t for…” I trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Regretting that I
started it in the first place.
Ray smiles with that same damned pride he displays whenever I do
something he thinks proves him right. “We are all aware of your success.
Your brother knew. The men do. You were born for this, Luca. The only
thing you must do is prove you are here to stay. That you are not going to
abandon the family for your own interests.”
I huff. “How do I do that?”
 His mouth pulls down as he gives it some thought. “If you want them to
take you seriously, you must present yourself seriously.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Gianni called you the prodigal son for a reason. You fucking left.
Earning their respect starts with letting them know you mean it. That you
will not get up and leave on a whim.”
“I won’t leave again,” I state. “I mean it.”
“They don’t know that. You have nothing tying you down, Luca. You
left Briar House because you felt like it, created your own organization to
see if you could, and disbanded it because you didn’t feel like doing it
anymore. You need something that screams permanence.”
None of that is exactly true. No one leaves a loving home on a whim.
And no one creates a powerful organization, then shuts down operations for
fun. But I don’t tell him I only disbanded because my success posed a threat
to Tony’s control over New York. I posed a threat. The moment I heard
whispers on the street that there would be a play to remove him, that the
power was shifting to me, I ended it. They were rumors, nothing more, and
I had to make sure it remained that way.
Instead, I ask, “Are you saying I should be tied down? By what?”
“Marriage. A family.”
The hard frown between my brows fades as I’m filled with incredulity.
“Marriage? What is this, the Middle Ages?”
“A family means rooting yourself to a place. It means commitment.
Those men out there…” He points to the door. “They need to see you can
commit.”
I stare at Uncle Ray for a long moment, wanting to debate the point but
unable to find much fault in his logic. If I marry the right person, that is.
Leaning back in the chair, I rub my chin thoughtfully. “Business and
family don’t go well together.”
“It was just a suggestion. But if you marry into the right family, the
possibilities are endless.” He looks at me expectantly.
While some of what he’s saying makes sense, I’m still in disbelief of his
suggestion.
“Who do you propose I marry?” I ask out of curiosity more than
anything else.
“I can name a few girls whose fathers would make excellent business
partners.” He begins to tick off on his fingers. “Mariana Gambini. She’s that
hotelier’s heiress in Vegas.”
I shoot that idea down immediately. “She won’t want me.”
“Why not? You’re a handsome man with plenty to offer her in return.”
“Except a pussy,” I say. Then I add, “She’s gay,” when he looks at me in
confusion.
“Well, I’m sure I can think of someone who likes dick. Carmen Lana,
for example. Her brother has a marina in Philly we could use.”
“Yes, I’m sure he’d welcome us to his marina,” I say sarcastically.
“Especially since Pops used it without asking permission for three years.”
“Ada Russo. Her father has proposed a partnership more than once. It
would expand your territory into Boston.”
I scrunch up my nose. “She laughs like a goat.”
“Then plug your fucking ears!” Uncle Ray shakes his shoulders as if
he’s attempting to rid himself of his frustration. “Now, you can’t possibly
find fault with every—”
Instantly, the image of soft-brown eyes and sinfully full lips comes to
mind. Someone I’ve wanted for years but have always kept my distance
from. And yet the very idea of her in my bed is the number one reason why
I don’t toss my uncle’s suggestion of marriage out the window.
“Di Persia,” I say.
“What?”
“Di Persia. We’ve done business with them for years.”
Uncle Ray’s mouth drops open. “He’s broke! His freight business went
bankrupt.”
I crack my fingers as the idea settles more fully in my mind. “The man
still has some connections.”
“Connections?” Ray extends his hands imploringly. “Luca, this
marriage must be good for business.”
“It will be. You said I needed to look settled. That’s what really matters.
As a bonus, I’ll get a man who is already under my thumb. Someone who’s
done work for me. Gregorio knows how to meet the needs of my business.
And she’ll look pretty on my arm.”
“Quiet and beautiful,” he adds. “Can she be that?”
I recall every interaction I’ve had with her. There have been many. A
lifetime, in fact. But it’s the more recent ones I dredge up. Most of my
meetings with Gregorio Di Persia are held in his office. On occasion, she’ll
be there. When she catches sight of me in the middle of dealings with her
father, the disappointment in her expression and venom in her tone is
instant. Every fucking time. And while I wouldn’t call her chatty, I’m not
sure quiet is the right word either.
It doesn’t keep me from wanting her. It makes me want her more.
“Beautiful, yes,” I tell my uncle. “But she’s somewhat opini—” I stop
mid-sentence as a new idea begins to form. A way I can have my cake and
eat it too. “She can look very pretty,” I say, more to myself than to my
uncle. “Though she may not want to marry me. But I’m sure she’s attracted
to me.” That much has always been obvious. “It’s the fact that she knows
what I do for a living.”
“If you’re set on her,” he says with a sigh, “then shall we formulate a
plan?”
“No need. I told you, Gregorio is under my thumb. He owes me a favor.
And the time has come to collect.” I steeple my hands beneath my chin. “If
he wants to live, it will be he who has to convince Alma to marry me.”
 3
CARINA

“F ucking car!” I slap my palms against the steering wheel, angry that
my dad’s shitty Buick Regal can’t get me from work to the house
without stalling at least once.
The driver behind me honks when I don’t move through the green light
fast enough. In the rearview mirror, I see him wave his hand at me
furiously.
“Yeah, yeah!” I flip him the bird, then turn the key, and the engine starts
right up. “If you work, why do you keep shutting off?!” I scream, then feel
awful because it’s not the car’s fault.
It’s been around since 1987, for God’s sake. It owes us nothing.
Really, I should be grateful that I at least have this. Otherwise, I’d find
myself walking to and from my two jobs.
“Sorry, Bessie.” I pat the dash as if it understands me. “I’m not mad at
you. The person I should be mad at is my dad. He’s the one who keeps
getting us into troub…”
The words die on my lips as I round the corner to see three black SUVs
and a Harley-Davidson parked in front of the house.
The Cadillacs, I’ve never seen, but the motorcycle, I’ve seen on too
many occasions, and all of them have spelled trouble.
“Shit.” My lips pull tight as my blood pressure rises to dangerous levels.
An all-too-familiar ache begins to throb behind my eyes as the car sputters
to a halt behind the vehicles.
I step out and slam the door behind me, then stomp onto the walkway
just as the owner of that motorcycle exits my house.
 Luca Sinacore. Or as I like to call him, Luca the Dick. I don’t feel bad
about calling him that. I’m pretty sure he has some choice names for me
too. The man has never liked me, not since we were kids and his father
dragged him to the shipping warehouse my dad owned. And certainly not
after he grew up. It’s like the very sight of me causes every nerve in his
body to tense. His left eye twitches, and his hands roll into fists as if he’d
like nothing more than to strangle me with them.
His already stern expression hardens even further the moment he spots
me coming toward him.
I stop in front of him, hating that he’s so tall that I have to tilt my head
far back to look up at him.
“Luca,” I say, because anything else would sound like I’m pleased he
dropped in for a visit.
“Carina,” he replies.
“What brings you to this part of town?” Translation: “What shady-ass
business are you trying to involve my already broke father in?”
The edges of his mouth curve up into an insincere smile. “I came to say
hello to an old friend.” Translation: “It’s none of your fucking business.”
“Is that all?” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my gaze.
He grins at me, but I’m not as easily affected by his handsome face as
I’m sure he’s accustomed to. His bad-boy good looks, with his long hair
shaved slightly at the sides, scruffy cheeks, and piercing blue eyes are
wasted on someone like me.
His smile falters, and I smirk smugly. Not that I believe he’s trying to
charm me. Though he’s smiling, the intensity of his gaze doesn’t waver.
Then he does something that does unnerve me. He rakes me with his
stare, from my dirty white sneakers, over my torn jeans, and up to the
disheveled bun I’ve redone several times today.
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of my appearance. Working through
lunchtime at Hob’s Diner, then the dinner hour at Lou’s Kitchen leaves me
not only messy, but haggard as well. Not to mention smelly.
Against my will, blood rushes to my cheeks, making them burn under
his scrutiny, and I damn my Irish genes for the fair skin that gives away my
emotions. Why couldn’t I have taken after Dad and inherited his olive skin?
“You still work at the diner.” It’s a statement, not a question.
Frowning, I ask, “How do you know?”
 He plucks something from my hair. It’s all I can do not to move when
his fingers graze my cheek as he pulls them away.
He shows me the piece of lettuce that somehow crept to my head, and
the embarrassment that suffuses me would be enough to make me curl into
a little ball if I didn’t have some pride left.
“I own the city now, Carina.” The way he says it, not bragging but as a
fact I should be aware of, worries me.
Yes, he owns the city now. With Tony Sinacore and his underboss dead,
he’d be the only one remaining to run it all.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say.
“Are you?”
I stare at him for a moment, but when I don’t reply fast enough, he
scoffs.
“Of course not. Why would you be? You barely knew him.”
“I knew him enough.” I shake off the feeling of dread that’s begun to
creep in and force myself to keep my chin up. “We used to play together,
remember?”
“How could I forget?” he asks, running his hand through his long hair as
he gives me an annoyed look. Then he turns away as if he can’t stand the
sight of me anymore. Tugging a set of keys from his leather jacket, he
throws over his shoulder, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”
I practically sneer as he gets on his bike. He revs the engine loudly,
looking sideways at me as he does. As if he can touch me all over again
from where he is, the spot where his fingers met the skin of my cheek
burns.
But I don’t allow myself to lift my trembling hand to my face. I don’t let
him see the effect he has on me.
No. He has no effect on me, I remind myself. And even if he did, I’d
deny it till my dying day.
“Dick,” I mutter as the caravan of thieves leave.
Spinning on my heel, I go into the house and shut the door behind me. I
let out a long breath and shake my head to decompress from this encounter
with Luca.
It’s the same every time. All it takes is two seconds for him to get under
my skin, then it takes hours for me to rid myself of this nervous itch to do
something. Thing is, I’m not sure exactly what that is.
 But right now, I don’t have hours. I need to know exactly what the fuck
Luca was doing here.
Without hesitation, I go to the office. Whatever the reason for his
presence here, it couldn’t have been good. And my father deals with his
problems in his office.
“Daddy?” I walk in to find him sitting behind his desk, deep in thought.
I peek down the hall to make sure my sister isn’t within hearing distance
and close the door. No need to beat around the bush, so I get right to the
point. “What the hell was Luca Sinacore doing here?”
He shifts his worried gaze to me. “Cari?” he asks as if he’s just noticed
I’m here.
“What did Luca want?” I demand.
My father turns to peer out the window behind him, his frown
deepening. “He…”
Frustrated, I go to the desk and slam a fist on the surface. “Daddy,” I
urge. “What was that man doing here? I thought you cut off all ties with that
family.”
Suddenly, he glances at me, and I nearly gasp at the fear in his eyes. He
brings his hand to his mouth as if he wants to suppress a sob.
“I’ve done something terrible,” he whispers, the white of his eyes
turning red. “Cari, I’ve…”
“What?” I round the desk, my stomach clenching as I expect the worst.
“What happened?”
“I killed a man.”
His words hit me like a kick to the gut, making it hard to breathe. Out of
everything I thought he’d say, that was the last thing. “W-what?”
“Five months ago. Harry Whitley. I owed him money.”
“You. Owed. Him. Money,” I repeat automatically. As if I need to
deconstruct the words to understand what they mean. “What mon—” It
dawns on me then. He’s been messing with those bookies. “Oh my God.”
“I made a bet I was sure I’d win.”
“Oh my God!”
“Cari.” He takes my hands and brings them to his chest. “I wanted to
help the only way I knew how. I thought it would bring some relief and you
wouldn’t have to work so hard. I thought I’d win.”
“You always think you’ll win.” I tug free from his hold and take several
steps back. “You never do.”
 “I know!” he cries out as he fights back tears I can’t sympathize with
right now. “Whitley covered it if I…if I would allow him to use our freights
to ship his product. But then we were shut down, and he demanded I cover
the debt somehow.”
“You promised, Daddy! We’re still paying on the last debt. I mortgaged
the house!”
My father begins to sob in earnest, like a child being scolded because he
was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Only, he’s no child, and these
people aren’t cookies.
“I went to his club in the Bronx and begged him for more time. He
threatened you girls when I couldn’t repay him. It happened so fast. I… I
didn’t realize what I was doing until it was done. One moment, the
paperweight was in my hand; the next, it was flying through the air toward
his head. Sinacore happened to walk in just then. He made it go away.
When I told him I had no way to repay his favor, he said he’d come to me
when I could.”
My leg begins to shake the way it does whenever I’m frustrated to the
point of losing control. “You’re stealing from Peter to pay Paul, and we
have no money to pay either of them. I can’t believe this is happening.” I
pinch the bridge of my nose and screw my lids shut. “First, you run our
business into the ground. Now, this.”
Images of the pile of bills mounting on my desk come to mind. All of
the debt my father and sister accumulate, and somehow, I have to find it
within our means to pay. Then I think of the small amount of savings I’ve
still managed to put together, and how even that is probably not enough to
cover whatever he owes Luca Sinacore now.
“You’ve known him for years. Since he was a kid. Maybe that will be
enough to sway him to forgive the favor owed.”
He shrugs. “I tried.”
“But you’ve done so much for them. You’ve risked your business!”
“This has nothing to do with the business, Cari. It has nothing to do
with my past dealings with the Sinacores. This is specifically owed to
Luca.” He slumps into the chair behind his desk, then leans forward, rests
his elbows on his knees, and drops his head into his hands. Defeat bleeds
from him like never before.
“How much do you need?” I ask, my tone laced with resignation.
It takes him a moment to respond. “He doesn’t want money.”
 I lift my gaze to him, and the tightness in my chest increases when I
realize the real problem. Whatever Luca wants, my father actually has. But
he doesn’t want to give it up.
“Give it to him,” I implore. “I don’t care what it is. Give it to him!”
Sighing, he looks up at me. “You will care,” he says regretfully. “What
he wants is your sister.”

It’s the following day, and I’m standing in the corner of the office,
anxiously chewing on my thumbnail, my leg shaking almost uncontrollably
while my sister processes what she’s just been asked to do.
My father and I both stare at Alma as she sits with her hands delicately
clasped on her lap. Her large eyes are wide and she’s completely still, like a
deer caught in the headlights. So the deer stays put in the face of danger, not
because it’s brave, but because it’s unsure of which way to run.
“This isn’t an obligation, Alma,” I say, moving to her. I crouch in front
of her and reach up to stroke her cheek. “You don’t have to say yes.”
Daddy clenches his teeth so hard, I can hear them practically grinding to
a pulp, but he says nothing.
“Why me?” Alma asks. “Why does he want to marry me and not you?”
The question is innocent and full of fear.
I give her a small smile because it’s all I can muster. “I guess he thinks
you’re the pretty one.”
“But I’m not made for that type of life, Cari. What do I know about
being the wife of a gangster? I can’t even lie without feeling awful for
weeks on end!” She begins to frantically twist the material of her powder-
blue shirt between her slim fingers. “What if he’s not nice to me?”
I tuck a loose strand of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. It’s silk
between my fingers, the way mine used to be before I lightened it.
“Luca was nice to you when we were kids,” I remind her. “You had a
crush on him.”
The side of her mouth quirks up. “I did.”
“And later, you still thought he was handsome,” I say.
Though I could see the interest in her eyes whenever Luca came around,
she doesn’t acknowledge it. She may have liked his bad-boy vibe, but it
scared her too. Especially as he got older and took on jobs for his brother.
Even worse, when he began to run his own operations. He may still have
been nice to Alma, but his surliness always came through. That blue gaze
that might as well have been black with how dark it could get when he’d
look at you.
Or maybe that was just me.
Alma turns to our dad. “There’s no other way?”
“I have nothing to offer him but my blood. People like him want their
favors repaid when they want them repaid,” he tells her, and her pale skin
takes on a greenish hue.
“Daddy!” I push through gritted teeth. “You’re not helping yourself.”
It pisses me off that he worked all night to convince me to at least give
Alma the choice. Literally fell to his knees in front of me and wrapped his
arms around my waist, refusing to let me go until I gave him this.
Now he’s the one fucking it all up.
Alma lets out a sob. I take her hand, my heart breaking for the decision
she shouldn’t have to make. No child should ever have to decide whether
they should give up their life for their parent. Especially not someone as
sweet and timid as Alma.
I wish it had been me. I’m harder to break. While I have always been
there to shield Alma from Daddy’s bad decisions, there’s been no one to
protect me. Not after Mom died.
Then again, it’s possible that’s exactly why Luca chose my sister. She’ll
go quietly. Like a little lamb to the slaughter, accepting her fate.
“Don’t do it,” I suddenly blurt out. “He’ll break you.”
“Carina!” my father yells. “Let her decide.”
“He’s going to hurt her!” I yell back, my nostrils flaring. “He’s a
criminal. His entire family is. Remember, I know how often they’ve
involved you in their drug smuggling schemes.”
“You know nothing, girl,” he spits back, anger and fear swirling in his
dark eyes.
“The fuck I don’t. Who is it that’s always clea—”
“He’ll kill Daddy if I don’t,” Alma whispers, pulling my attention back
to her.
“We can’t be sure he’ll follow through,” I tell her. “We can move far
away.”
 “With what money?!” she cries. “I’ve heard you two talking when you
think I’m out of earshot, but I’m not. There’s none left.”
“Alma,” I say pleadingly. Desperately.
“Don’t.” She wipes tears from her eyes and takes my hand in hers. “I’m
not as fragile as you think. I’ll do it.”
Our father practically falls from his chair onto his knees. He crawls to
her and takes her in his arms. “Thank you, sweet girl. Thank you.”
She hugs him back, but when she looks at me, tears are streaming down
her cheeks in thick rivulets. My heart shreds to pieces.
It’s easy for me to tell exactly what’s going through her mind. Not only
because she’s my twin, but because I’d be thinking the exact same thing.
She’s just been sentenced to a lifetime in Hell.
 4
CARINA

T his morning, we were informed that Luca would like to visit his new
fiancée. It’s been a week since the day Alma put on her big-girl pants
and agreed to marry him.
He’s been by three times now. It’s a courtship he seems to take
seriously, bringing her flowers and chocolates, things he must believe will
make her more malleable.
It does.
While the first “date” was a stiff event, with frightened, wide eyes and
little conversation, now she seems calmer. She might even be looking
forward to tonight.
“You were right, Cari,” she says as she applies pale-pink lipstick at her
vanity while I watch from her bed. “He’s as nice as he was when we were
kids.”
I prop myself up on my elbow. “He’s always had a soft spot for you.”
As for me… He’s exactly as he’s always been too. The gentle gaze he
reserves for my sister evaporates the moment he sees me. Then his eyes go
dark and brutal.
He hates me. Can’t stand the sight of me and turns away as soon as I
come into view.
“What?” she asks when I giggle.
“Nothing. Just remembering the day I pinned him down.”
Her hand stops on a stroke of her blush. “Oh my God, I totally forgot
about that.”
“Yup.” I giggle. “He was such an easy target with that stupid ponytail. I
just jumped on his back and held on tight to it.”
 It was more like I fell onto him. At least, the first time. But his reaction
was instant and harsh. Some of the curses that spewed from his mouth, I’d
never even heard. And I’d heard many by that point. It made me want to do
it again. I’ll be the first to admit I was a pest, but that was years ago. No
reasonable adult would hold a grudge this long. Then again, that may not be
what makes me intolerable to him now.
“He dislikes me,” I say.
“He does not.”
“Sure does. I don’t care, though.” Big sourpuss with a chip on his
shoulder. “All I care about is that he likes you.”
“I think he does. He’s been…charming.” The last word comes out on a
sort of sigh that makes me take notice.
Arching a brow, I ask, “So you don’t think he’s a scary criminal
anymore?”
Alma shrugs. “Can he be both nice and bad?”
I don’t believe so, but for her sake, I say, “Of course he can.”
The doorbell rings, and Alma suddenly goes into a panic.
“Oh my God, he’s here. I’m not ready yet.” She flies to the closet and
begins to pick through her clothes.
It rings again, and I realize that either Daddy doesn’t hear it, or he’s
pretending not to.
Sighing, I say, “I’ll answer the door. Just hurry up.”
“Thank you. Ten minutes, tops.”
Grudgingly, I head downstairs. Through the glass of the front door, I see
his silhouette. It practically fills the entire thing, and it aggravates me that
he has to be so large.
Rolling my eyes, I open the door to find Luca facing his uncle. He turns
to me with a smile that vanishes the moment he takes me in, his gaze
moving over my entire body before pausing on my lips.
An annoyed frown mars his brow, and almost angrily, he says, “I
expected to see Alma.”
“Nice to see you too.” I move aside and wave an arm toward the living
room. “Won’t you come in? She’ll be down in a few minutes.”
He pushes past me, but I slam the door shut before his uncle can take a
step inside. Luca glances over his shoulder but says nothing. Instead, he
moves beyond the living room, where I wanted him to go, and enters the
office.
 “You don’t need to accompany me. I know my way around your house,”
he says smugly.
I follow close behind him as he walks straight to the liquor cabinet and
helps himself to the only expensive bottle of tequila we have.
“That’s meant for special occasions,” I snarl.
He gives me a toothy grin that seems more threatening than friendly,
then swallows down the shot and pours himself another. Before he can toss
that one back, I snatch it from his hand and drink it myself.
Now it’s me who grins.
“I can tell you don’t like me,” he says. “But for the sake of your family,
I suggest you try to be civil.”
I bristle. “Civil?”
“Civil,” he repeats, taking a step toward me.
I tense as I’m forced to look up when he towers over me. His body takes
up too much of my space, but I don’t retreat.
His eyes bore into mine in that way they always do, stripping me of
something. I can’t explain it, but it makes me feel vulnerable. So I erect
walls all around myself and reinforce them with a glare meant to singe the
skin off his bones.
The narrowing of his gaze is the only thing that gives any hint that he’s
affected by it. But he doesn’t remain like that long. As usual, he turns from
me as if my face offends him.
Refilling his glass, completely uncaring about the state of our finances
or that we’ll probably never be able to replace that bottle, he pours himself
another, then takes a second glass and fills it.
He hands that one to me. “Drink this.”
It’s an order, one I want to defy, but I need something to cool me down.
Reluctantly, I take it.
Luca takes a seat behind my father’s desk, and it irks me that he’s taken
command of a space that doesn’t belong to him. I hate even more that, even
though he’s sitting now, he still seems to overwhelm the room with his
presence. Every atom in the atmosphere hums with awareness of him, the
air itself so thick with the scent of leather and man that I’m afraid I’ll
breathe him in and he’ll invade me too.
Feeling weary, I plop down in the seat across from him and sip. The
amber liquid burns all the way to my stomach, and I fight the urge to cough.
But he doesn’t miss a thing. “A bit strong for you?”
 “Nothing I can’t handle,” I say through the frog in my throat.
“It’s rough for someone who’s not used to it.”
“I like it rough,” I retort.
The blue of his irises darkens as his pupils dilate. “That’s what they all
say. But the moment you give them a little pain, they cry.”
I scrunch up my nose, confused. “Who the fuck is they?”
He smirks. “No one.”
We remain silent for a long while. My blood begins to warm as the
alcohol hits, and I peer into the glass, trying to recall when the last time I
drank this was.
When I look up, I’m startled to find Luca staring at me with an intensity
that makes me tremble. His gaze roves over my features, almost as if he’s
studying them. It makes me fucking nervous, but I do my best not to let it
show.
Lifting a brow, I stare right back. “Do you like what you see?”
His lips quirk up. “It’s amazing how much Alma looks like you, but you
couldn’t be more different.”
“That’s because I’m not her.”
“Believe me, I’m painfully aware of that.” He swallows the remainder
of the tequila, as if he needs it to tolerate the sight of me.
And yet, unlike before, this time he doesn’t glance away. If anything,
his stare intensifies.
I sneer. “You better not hurt her.”
He smirks, obviously finding my threat amusing. “Or you’ll what?”
I don’t answer that. What will I do? Try to kill him and end up dead
myself?
Instead, I ask a question of my own. “How much do you want?”
“For what?”
“How much for you to leave us alone?” I’ve been working out numbers.
If I sell my car, I can make at least ten thousand. I have a credit card with
five thousand open for an advance. “Fifteen thousand cash. I can get it for
you by the weekend.”
He bursts out laughing. “You think fifteen thousand will pay me off? I
have that much in my pocket.” To prove it, he pulls out a wad of cash and
tosses it on the desk.
It infuriates me that here I am, struggling to pay the mortgage, working
two jobs, while he walks around with that much money like it’s chump
change.
I flick my gaze from the cash to him and shake my head. “Alma is not
meant for a man like you.”
His smile fades. “That may be. But she’s exactly what I need. And more
importantly, she accepted.”
Just then, my father’s voice sounds, coming nearer. He’s complimenting
Alma on something. Damn him, but he owes her so much more than
fucking praise.
I stand and make to leave, but before I can take a step toward the door,
fingers wrap around my arm. Luca pulls me to him hard.
Shit, I didn’t even see him get up. I try to free myself, but he’s too
damned strong.
He leans down, his face so close to mine that I feel his breath on my
lips. “You have been a pain in the ass for as long as I can remember.
Always meddling. I’ve let it go in the past, Carina, but not this time. If you
want your father to live, I suggest you don’t interfere. I will marry Alma
whether you like it or not. Is that clear?”
Swallowing my pride, though it’s a real struggle, I say, “Crystal.”
Once again, I try to pull myself out of his grip, but he doesn’t release
me.
He keeps me there, his eyes boring into mine, stirring up the anger
inside. But it’s when they move to my lips that something else is roused. A
clenching in the pit of my stomach that makes it hard to breathe.
“I think he’s in here,” my father says as he pushes the door to the office
open wider.
As if I’ve burned him, Luca shoves me away, but not fast enough. Both
my father and sister seem startled as they stand at the doorway watching us.
“Is everything all right?” Alma asks.
Luca gives her that smile he reserves only for her. “Of course. We were
just hashing out some details of our agreement.”
Alma glances at me as if to confirm.
Shakily, I also smile at her. “Yeah, details.”
“I should be part of those conversations,” my father interjects.
“Actually, I’d prefer it if you refrained from talking to this man further,”
I tell him.
His eye twitches, but he says nothing, because he knows this is all his
fault. He makes the mess, and his daughters are left to clean it.
 “Would you like to visit on the patio?” Alma asks Luca.
“Sounds good to me. It’s getting a little stuffy in here,” he says, tugging
on the collar of his shirt and giving me a pointed look.
The two leave the office, and I glare at my father.
“I swear I’ll never do anything like this again,” he says. “You believe
me, Cari, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. You’ve already given away your biggest treasure.
There’s nothing left for you to gamble with!” I throw my arms up in
frustration.
“Cari,” he murmurs, but I ignore him and go into the kitchen, where I
can better see the couple outside.
I move to the window that faces the rear of the house and watch as Luca
approaches Alma, who’s beneath the large oak in the middle of the yard. He
says something to her, and though I can’t make out what it is, she smiles.
Shyly, she tucks her cheek against her shoulder and peers up at him
through her long lashes. He lifts a hand to push a lock of dark hair behind
her ear, then leans in and kisses her.
Every nerve in my body tenses as I take it all in. How he patiently
coaxes her into his arms. How gentle he presses his lips to hers.
It’s like the perfect romantic scene in a movie. The rebel and the
princess. Him with his long hair, tattoos, and leather. Her in a pink maxi
dress, with soft, wavy hair and shy manners.
But this isn’t a movie. He’s a lion, and she’s a lamb.
“He’s going to eat her alive,” I whisper, then turn to my father who’s
standing at the far end of the kitchen. “You know that, right? He’s going to
break her.”
Daddy slumps against the wall, his gaze glued to the floor from the
shame of it all. “I know.”
 5
CARINA

“Y ou’re going to look so beautiful,” I say wistfully as I lean against

the doorframe of my sister’s room.
She’s holding the wedding dress to her chest in front of the
standing mirror. In the reflection, she smiles. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“It’s very pretty. Very expensive. But—”
“It’s not what you would have chosen,” I finish for her.
I get behind her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lean my head
against hers. “You will be the most beautiful bride ever.”
Alma pats my hand, then moves to the bed, where she lays the dress and
stands back to admire it. But soon her shoulders sag, and she lets out a long
breath. “I wonder if I could add a shawl. But where would I get something
like that now? The wedding is tomorrow.”
There’s a strange sort of panic in her tone that should alarm me.
“Maybe there’s one in Momma’s closet,” I suggest.
After she passed away, Daddy couldn’t bear to get rid of any of her
belongings. Frankly, neither could we. It’s nice to rummage through her
things from time to time. To take in her lingering scent. To pretend she’s
still here.
I help Alma search for something. In the very back of our mother’s
closet, we find a blue cashmere scarf that’s thick enough to be worn as a
shawl.
“Something borrowed, something blue,” Alma says. “I’ll tell Luca it
was Momma’s, and I’m sure he’ll allow me to wear it.”
It irks me that she says he’ll “allow” it. They’re not married yet, and
she’s already behaving like the obedient wife.
 But I don’t say anything about it, because it will change nothing. Alma
has made her decision, and if I push her in any other direction, I’ll be no
better than Luca or my father.
I feel completely and utterly helpless.
“I’m sure he’ll love it,” I tell her instead.
She sighs as she lays the scarf over the dress. “Yeah. I need a drink.
Would you like one?”
“Sure,” I say.
Alma goes downstairs to pour us a glass of cheap box wine that’s sure
to leave us with a hangover.
I’m left alone to stare at the wedding gown that Luca had made for my
sister. He must have paid a fortune for something this exquisite to be put
together in such a short amount of time. The wedding planner brought the
designer from the high-end bridal shop to our house just two weeks ago. It
was easy to tell she was flustered as she hurriedly took measurements. She
mumbled under her breath only loud enough that the planner could make it
out, but it was easy to hear the annoyance in her tone.
Not that I could blame her. Knowing the Sinacores, Luca probably gave
her no choice in the matter.
Produce a beautiful dress or die.
At least, that’s what I imagine happened, because she did it.
I bend over the bed and run my palm over the satin and lace. It’s
breathtaking. Alma may not have selected a dress like this—the sleeveless
mermaid-cut gown with the detachable tulle skirt is far too sexy, too
revealing for her—but I would have. It’s daringly elegant. Seductive.
And the veil… I run my hand over that too. It’s exquisite, the delicate
fabric so sheer, it could be gossamer. Handmade in Italy.
Frankly, it surprises me that Luca had the capacity to choose something
so lovely. I’d half expected it to be black and made of leather and chains
and adorned with metal studs.
“I’m scared, Cari.”
I turn to see my twin downing her glass of red like it’s grape juice. “Are
you scared of Luca?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think he’d hurt me on purpose. But he
doesn’t really want me. He just needs me for something. It’s like I match his
needs right now. What’s going to happen when he doesn’t need me
anymore? I’ll be abandoned in that world. Then what will I do?”
 “We can still run, Alma. You and me.” I take her by the shoulders.
“Let’s go somewhere no one will ever find us,” I suggest almost
desperately.
“What about Daddy?”
“What about him?” I huff. “He’s the one who made this mess, and it
shouldn’t be up to us to clean it up.”
“It shouldn’t, but he’s our dad. Carina, you’re too hard on him,” she
criticizes. “He may not be perfect, but he loves us. You know he does.”
I bite back the retort that’s ready to spew from my mouth. If I wasn’t
hard on him, we’d be living in a box under a bridge. But she’s right—he
loves us. There are far more wonderful memories than there are bad.
That’s why I keep my lips clamped and remind myself that I too love
him. And if Luca had asked me to marry him, I would have done it to save
my father and sister. Just like she’s doing now.
“You’re right.” I pull her into a tight embrace, hating myself for not
giving her more credit.
She’s so much braver than she seems.
“Everything will be okay, though, won’t it?” she asks, and the worry in
her tone makes me stiffen. “I’ll be okay?”
I squeeze tighter. “Everything will be okay.”

A loud crash has me throwing the blankets off me and bolting out of bed so
fast, I trip over my own feet. I land in a heap on the wooden floor but
quickly scramble up.
My bedroom door has been flung wide open, and a fuzzy figure stands
in the hallway.
“Who’s there?!” I demand, slapping my palm over my eyes to clear the
fog created by the blinding light.
“She’s gone, Cari. She’s fucking gone!”
“What? Who?”
Daddy stomps to me and thrusts a piece of paper into my hand.
I turn on the lamp because the light spilling in from the hallway isn’t
enough. Hastily, I read the note written in Alma’s pretty handwriting.
I’m sorry, Daddy. I can’t do it. I’m not brave.
 Carina will think of something. She will fix this.
I’m sorry.
A.
“What are we going to do?” he asks, starting to pace the room like a
man about to head to the guillotine. “Carina, I’m fucked. What the fuck am
I going to do?!”
I’m still staring at the letter in complete shock. She was scared, I know,
but I didn’t expect her to bail on us like this.
“Carina!” My father grabs my arm to get my attention. “What do I
do?!”
I yank it away, angry at him for putting us in this God-awful position.
Angry with her for not taking me up on the offer to run away when we had
the chance. Angry with myself for not forcing her to.
Carina will think of something. She will fix this.
Carina will fix this?
Fury grips me full force, and I let out a scream so loud, my father
recoils and lands on the bed. He stares at me with wide eyes, reminding me
so much of my sister that it startles me. Until now, I hadn’t realized that
they are the exact same person. I’m like my mother was, and Alma is just
like him.
“How Momma put up with you is beyond me,” I hiss. “What you should
be asking yourself is where Alma could have gone!”
I snatch my phone from the nightstand and dial her cell phone. It goes
straight to voicemail. “Damn it, Alma. Call me back.”
When she doesn’t return my call within five minutes, I text her.
Me: Where the hell are you?
To this, she does reply.
Alma: I’m safe. Please don’t hate me.
Me: Are you coming back?
Alma: No. You were right. I shouldn’t have to pay for his sins.
Me: But this isn’t the way to do it.
She doesn’t answer again.
“She’s not coming back,” I tell Daddy.
His shoulders slump as he looks at me blankly. “I’m dead.”
I glance at my phone screen to see the time. “It’s six thirty,” I say. “The
wedding isn’t until two.”
Daddy sits up, looking at me expectantly. “Yes.”
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