Chapter 3

When I got back to the wings, Bianca's bodyguard was just coming out of the manager's office.

The manager sat in his office, gleefully counting cash. When he saw me, he couldn't resist a comment.

"Aria, turns out you're worth something after all. Don't worry, I'll have more work for you here."

My face was dark, but I didn't want to waste another word on him. I turned and went to the restroom.

The woman in the mirror still had her makeup intact, but her face was cold, drained of all warmth.

I hadn't always been like this.

I used to laugh easily, and Lucian loved to watch me laugh.

Back then he always said that when I smiled, the gunfire and the bodies all felt far away, if only for that instant.

At the memory I gave a self-mocking smile, then pulled a creased, folded slip of paper from my bag.

It was covered in cramped rows of debts, and no matter how I scraped and saved, ten thousand dollars was still far out of reach.

Yet this sum I was killing myself for wasn't even worth a single bottle of their wine.

After the auction, the party was held on a yacht nearby.

It was supposedly Bianca's spur-of-the-moment idea, yet the yacht was fully stocked, missing only one thing: waitstaff.

The message was clear.

Tonight I was the only server on this boat, and the only plaything.

Bianca opened a bottle of champagne herself, foam spilling over the lip.

"Come."

"The first glass tonight, to my future husband."

The people around her raised their glasses at once.

"May the Castellano family's business grow ever bigger, its shipping routes reach ever farther, and may the Don and Miss Ferraro wed soon, a union of two powers."

It was a pretty toast, and Bianca was pleased to hear it.

"Rest assured, with me here, the Castellanos will never slip, and there will never be another traitor!"

At that, Lucian frowned, a flicker of displeasure in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Bianca was flashy, but she usually knew where the line was. Saying something like that, she'd probably just had too much to drink.

Just then she turned to me, her eyes full of a victor's arrogance.

"Aria, come here."

I walked over, and Bianca pressed the bottle into my hands.

"Pour for Lucian and me, then give us a toast."

She paused, her smile deepening. "'May true love win in the end.' That one."

The hand Lucian held his cigarette in went still, almost imperceptibly.

I looked at Bianca. She'd had plenty to drink, the flush of it clear on her face.

In that moment a thought surfaced. I lowered my eyes and kept my voice light.

"I can do that. But Miss Ferraro, you'll have to give me ten thousand dollars."