MAFIA'S RUNAWAY HEIRESS

Chapter 1

The champagne tasted like lies.

Celestia Harrington held the crystal flute and smiled at another congratulations, another air kiss from women who'd spent the last decade waiting for her to fail. The ballroom of the Harrington estate glittered with old money and older secrets, three hundred guests celebrating an engagement she'd agreed to six weeks ago in her father's study.

A merger, he'd called it. The Harrington pharmaceutical empire and the Blackwell tech dynasty, united through marriage.

She'd said yes because Julian Blackwell was handsome, charming, and most importantly, her choice. Her father had presented other candidates over the years, men twice her age with portfolios thicker than their morals. Julian had seemed different.

"Darling, you look radiant." Her mother materialized beside her, diamond chandelier earrings catching the light. "Julian is looking for you. Something about the toast?"

"I'll find him."

Tia drifted through the crowd in her white engagement gown since her mother insisted on tradition, trailing behind her like a flag of surrender. She needed air. She needed five minutes away from the performance.

The library was dark and blessedly empty. She closed the door and leaned against it.

Julian's voice carried through the wall.

"....signed the prenup yesterday. She has no idea."

Tia froze.

"Once we're married, I'll have access to her trust and the patent portfolio." Julian's laugh was unfamiliar, stripped of its warmth. "The Meridian formula alone is worth half a billion on the black market. Kozlov's already arranged the buyers."

"And the girl?" Another voice. Deeper.

"What about her? She's leverage. Once I control her shares, her father can't touch me. If she becomes a problem..." A pause. "Accidents happen."

Tia's hand found the doorknob to the adjoining study. She pushed it open silently.

Julian stood with his back to her, phone pressed to his ear. On the desk between him and Marcus Vance, her father's head of security, the man she'd trusted since childhood, lay a folder marked HARRINGTON CONFIDENTIAL.

Patent documents. Drug formulas. Her family's research.

"Kozlov wants confirmation by midnight," Marcus said. "The Russian doesn't like waiting."

"Tell him the wedding is in two weeks. After that, the Harrington empire is ours to strip."

Tia stepped back. The floor creaked.

Julian turned.

For one frozen second, they stared at each other. Then his expression shifted from shock to something cold and calculated.

"Celestia. How long have you been...."

She ran.

The ballroom was impossible. Too many people, too many cameras. She shoved through the service entrance, her heel catching on the hem of her gown. She kicked off both shoes and kept moving.

"Stop her!" Marcus's voice boomed behind her.

The parking lot blurred past. She found her Aston Martin, thanked God she'd insisted on keeping her keys, and gunned the engine.

Headlights flooded her rearview mirror as she hit the main road. A black SUV, closing fast.

Rain started as she pushed the speedometer past ninety. The winding road toward the city was dark, no streetlights, just trees and curves that required both hands and complete focus.

The SUV rammed her bumper.

Tia's head snapped forward. She gripped the wheel tighter, took the next curve too fast. The car fishtailed. She corrected, but the SUV hit her again, harder.

Her front tire blew.

The Aston Martin spun, slammed through a guardrail, and flipped. Metal screamed. Glass shattered. The world turned upside down, then stopped.

Pain radiated through her ribs. Blood dripped into her eye. She hung from her seatbelt, the car on its roof in a ditch, rain pouring through the broken windshield.

Footsteps crunched on gravel.

"Check if she's alive," Marcus's voice. "Make it look like an accident."

Tia fumbled for her seatbelt release. Her fingers were slick with blood. The buckle wouldn't open.

A car door slammed. Different from the SUV. Heavier.

"Gentlemen." The new voice cut through the rain like a blade. "You're on my road."

"This is private business," Marcus said. "Keep moving."

"That's where you're wrong."

Gunshots cracked the night. Two. Precise.

Tia stopped breathing.

Silence, except for the rain and her hammering heart.

The footsteps approached her car. A face appeared in the broken window, upside down from her perspective. Dark eyes scanned her with clinical efficiency.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"I noticed." Her voice came out steady despite the fear clawing up her throat.

He almost smiled. "Can you move?"

"Seatbelt's stuck."

He produced a knife, reached through the window, and cut the belt in one smooth motion. She dropped. He caught her before she hit the roof, pulled her through the window with surprising gentleness.

The world tilted as he set her on her feet. She swayed. He steadied her with one hand on her elbow.

"Thank you," she managed. "I should..."

"Run?" He released her and stepped back. "In a torn wedding dress, covered in blood, with nowhere to go? Interesting plan."

Tia looked at him properly for the first time. Tall, dark suit that probably cost more than her car, and eyes that catalogued everything. Behind him, two bodies lay in the rain.

"You killed them."

"They were going to kill you." He tilted his head. "You're Celestia Harrington."

Not a question. He knew exactly who she was.

"And you are?"

"Dante Vitale."

The name hit her like a second crash. Everyone knew that name, even if they pretended not to. The Vitale family owned half the city's underground and had enough legitimate businesses to make it respectable. Dante Vitale was the king of that empire, the man prosecutors couldn't touch and rivals didn't cross twice.

"This is your road?" she asked.

"Everything from here to the harbor is mine." His gaze dropped to her torn dress, the blood on her temple, then back to her face. "What did you see that was worth dying for?"

She could lie. Should lie. But the man had just saved her life and clearly already knew too much.

"My fiancé is selling my family's pharmaceutical patents to someone named Kozlov. The head of our security is helping him. They were going to kill me after the wedding."

Dante was quiet for a moment. "Kozlov. Russian mob. Arms dealer branching into pharmaceuticals." He looked at the wreckage of her car, then at her. "Your fiancé has poor taste in business partners."

"My fiancé has poor taste in general, apparently."

This time he did smile, brief and sharp. "What's your plan now, Miss Harrington?"

"I don't have one." The adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion and pain. "I'll call the police, report..."

"Marcus Vance was your head of security. How many others on your father's payroll belong to your fiancé?" Dante asked. "How do you know who to trust? And even if you find someone clean, how long before Kozlov decides you're a loose end?"

Every word landed like a stone in her chest because he was right.

"What are you suggesting?"

"You have information I want. You need protection and leverage." He gestured to the dead men. "I've already complicated things by interfering. Which means Julian Blackwell now knows someone else is interested in his business."

"So this is transactional."

"Everything is transactional, Miss Harrington." He pulled out his phone, typed something, then pocketed it again. "My offer: You come with me. You tell me everything you know about Julian's deal. In exchange, I keep you alive and help you take back what's yours."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I leave you here with your principles and two corpses." His expression didn't change. "Your choice. But my car leaves in thirty seconds."

Tia looked at the wreckage of her Aston Martin, at the bodies of men sent to kill her, at the ruins of her white engagement dress. Behind her was a fiancé who'd planned to rob and murder her. Ahead was a mafia king offering a devil's bargain.

She'd been making the safe choice her whole life. Look where it had gotten her.

"I want my own room," she said. "And access to a lawyer."

Dante's smile returned, wider this time. "You can negotiate. Interesting."

"I'm a Harrington. We're very good at negotiations."

"Then we'll get along perfectly." He started toward a black Mercedes idling on the road, then paused and looked back. "One more thing, Miss Harrington. Once you get in my car, you're in my world. You don't leave until this is finished. Are we clear?"

Tia lifted her chin and met his eyes. "Crystal."

She walked past him and opened the car door herself, sliding into the leather seat without waiting for permission. Her hands shook, but she kept them steady in her lap.

Dante got in beside her. The driver pulled away without a word.

"You're bleeding on my upholstery," Dante observed.

"Send me the cleaning bill."

He laughed, low and genuine. "Oh, you're going to be trouble."

"Count on it."

As the car accelerated into the night, Tia caught her reflection in the window. Blood streaked her face, her dress was torn, and she was riding into the darkness with a man who killed without hesitation.

She'd never felt more alive.

Behind them, red and blue lights began to flash at the crash site. Ahead, the city glittered with secrets and sin.

Tia didn't look back.