Chapter 3

I was 12 years old when Mamma married Salvatore and brought me into his world.

Giuliano was already 15. The way he looked at us carried a hostility that sent a chill straight through me. It could not have been more obvious that we were not welcome.

At a quiet look from Mamma, I clutched the hem of my dress, swallowed my nerves, and forced out his name. "Giuliano."

He gave me one cold glance and let out a mocking scoff.

"Do not go thinking you can cozy up to anyone in this house, especially not the daughter of a whore."

The insult nailed me to the spot.

I blinked back tears and tried to explain. Mamma had only gotten together with Salvatore after his first wife passed away. She was not the other woman who had destroyed his family.

Yet Giuliano refused to believe it. Even after Salvatore lost his temper over it, his hostility toward us never let up. To spare Mamma the trouble, I did my best to stay out of his way.

I thought we would be enemies for the rest of our lives. That changed when I was 17.

I had just left a late‑night rehearsal at the Blackport Ballet Theatre and was walking alone through the streets of Ironshore. At the mouth of a dark alley, a drunk street thug zeroed in on me and came stumbling forward, slurring obscenities.

I hugged my backpack to my chest in terror and tried to scream, yet there was not a soul around.

The instant his filthy hand was about to reach me, a powerful arm wrenched me behind a broad back.

What followed was the sickening crack of bone against brick. The thug slammed into the wall and crumpled to the ground.

I stared, frozen, at the tall figure shielding me. It was Giuliano, the same Giuliano who supposedly despised my very existence.

He rolled his bloodied knuckles with an irritated grimace. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were just as fierce as ever, yet I caught the flash of panic buried underneath.

"You have a family car with bulletproof glass and you would rather wander around and get yourself killed? Do not make it look like the Falcone family treats you like garbage."

Salvatore had arranged bodyguards and drivers for all of us, yet I had always avoided using them around Giuliano. I was too afraid of making him angrier than he already was.

Our eyes met and I dropped my gaze in a fluster.

Giuliano swore under his breath. "Shit."

He seized my wrist and shoved me into the black Cadillac Escalade parked at the curb.

The details of that night had grown hazy over the years, yet I never forgot the sound of my heartbeat when he stepped in front of me. It hammered like a war drum against my chest.

For as long as I could remember, I had been the kind of person who swallowed her pain in silence. That was the first time I ever felt what it was like to be protected by a powerful man.

From that day on, I was hopelessly gone for him.

I thought I had hidden it well. Yet on the night I turned 18, a single kiss that tasted of champagne laid every one of my secrets bare.