第2章

My mother's test results were not good. She needed to be admitted.

After I got her settled and quickly dressed the wound on my hand, I was about to leave when I suddenly heard James's voice.

"Sweetheart, seeing you hurt just breaks my heart. Until this wound heals completely, I'll take care of you myself. I won't leave your side for a second."

He was half-kneeling beside Rachel, tenderly kissing her injured calf over and over, looking heartbroken.

I couldn't help thinking of last summer, when the three of us took a road trip and got into an accident.

To protect Rachel in the passenger seat, James wrenched the wheel, and I was the one badly hurt. The bones in my lower leg were shattered.

And on my second day in the hospital, James left me there and flew to Italy with Rachel for their school reunion.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Enzo Caruso, the Ferrandi Family's underboss, might be at the reunion. I really can't miss a chance like this."

That was how James explained it to me.

But afterward, I found photos on a classmate's social media of James and Rachel going wild at a pool party, and everyone in the comments assumed they had been together for years.

I had a huge fight with James over it. He swore up and down that it was all a misunderstanding, that he would never betray me. "I swear it on my mother's grave!"

But the truth was he had been lying the whole time, playing me for a fool!

"Isabella, what are you doing here? Are you following me?"

James came out of the exam room pushing Rachel in a wheelchair, and the moment he saw me, his brow creased.

"Sweetheart, doesn't she look just like a dumb dog on a leash clipped to your belt!"

Rachel said it in Italian, dripping malice, before I could even answer him. Then she looked at my bandaged right hand with mock surprise. "Isabella, you're hurt? Is it bad?"

"You hurt yourself just to compete with Rachel? Isabella, your little tricks are getting more pathetic by the day."

James shook his head in disgust, then ordered me to go bring the car around so we could take Rachel home.

I almost refused. Then it occurred to me that this might get me more dirt on the two of them, more ammunition. So I nodded.

Just as I expected, the moment they got in the car, they switched to Italian.

"When is your father finally going to introduce me to the Don of the Lucchese Family? I can't wait any longer!"

I could barely hide my shock as I glanced at James in the rearview mirror. He was fawning over Rachel, almost obsequious.

The Don of the Lucchese Family they were talking about was my biological father, Vittorio Lucchese. I had never told James because it wasn't something I considered worth bragging about.

"My father has already talked the Don around. He's flying to America in three days, just for this deal of yours."

Rachel lifted her chin and said it smugly.

I nearly laughed out loud.

My father was indeed coming to America in three days. But he wasn't coming for any deal with James.

The truth is, he flies in from Italy every year to see me. This year he had planned to come early for my engagement party, but urgent business held him up.

I had been a little sad about that. Now I was deeply grateful he hadn't made it. It let me finally see the people around me for what they were.

"I cannot wait to meet the Don of the Lucchese Family. He's the head of Italy's oldest mafia family! He's unimaginably powerful, and he controls every money-laundering channel in Europe!"

"Once I'm working with him, I can finally dump Isabella for good. She's an ordinary American girl with no noble blood at all. If her family didn't have money, why would I ever have been with her!"

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from calling James a shameless bastard to his face. His company existed only because my mother and I had provided the seed money and the right contacts.

"When the time comes, I'll go to your father, the Lucchese Family's consigliere, and ask for your hand."

James's words made me frown.

The Lucchese Family's consigliere was Peter "Pete" Moretti, better known to me as Uncle Pete. Before I moved to America, I loved spending time with him more than anyone. Even my father used to get jealous.

We're still close to this day. And Uncle Pete could not possibly be Rachel's father.