Chapter 1

THE SALES

~GISELLE POV~

I shouldn't be listening at the door.

Julio taught me that when I was thirteen. "Eavesdroppers hear things that get them killed," he said. Then he slapped me hard enough that my ear rang for three days.

Well, I learned, but tonight, something made me stop outside his study. Maybe it was the way he had been looking at me all week. Like I was a problem he was about to solve. Or maybe it was Vincent's voice through the door and trust me Vincent never raised his voice.

Vincent was raised-voice loud.

"You can't be serious."

I pressed my ear to the wood. My heart was already doing that thing where it beats too fast and too hard.

"I am not defaulting, Vincent." Julio sounded calm, too calm. That was worse than yelling. "The debt is settled."

"With what money? The casinos are bleeding. The shipping routes are gone. The Romanos want fifty million by midnight or they start taking heads."

Fifty million, That number sat in my stomach like a rock. "They don't want money," Julio said, and then the rock turned to ice.

"Then what?" Vincent sounded like he already knew the answer and was praying he was wrong.

"A trade."

No. No no no.

"What did you trade, Julio?" Say the casinos, please say the warehouses. Say literally anything that isn't…..

"My daughter."

The floor dropped out from under me, and I grabbed the doorframe. My nails dug into the wood. This wasn't real. This was a nightmare. This was some sick joke and Julio was going to laugh and Vincent was going to laugh and I was going to wake up.

"Giselle?" Vincent's voice cracked. "She's twenty-three years old. She's top of her class. She has a future."

"She's an investment." Julio said it like he was discussing stocks. Like I was a mutual fund. "I took that stray in when she was twelve. Fed her. Clothed her in silk. Educated her at the best schools. You think I did that out of the goodness of my heart?"

Stray, Investment, those words shouldn't hurt but they did, eleven years. Eleven years of trying to be perfect, trying to speak five languages, trying to get straight A's, trying to make him love me, and the whole time I was just merchandise. A thing he was polishing up to sell.

"Who?" Vincent asked quietly. "Who did you sell her to?"

Please say someone old. Someone I can outlive.

"Lorenzo wants her for his son."

"Which son?"

Oh god. Please no…..

"Alessandro."

The world swayed sideways.

Alessandro Romano. Everyone knew that name. The man who supposedly cut someone's tongue out at a restaurant for interrupting his dinner. The man who looked at people like they were already dead.

"Julio, you can't." Vincent sounded desperate now. Panicked. "That man is a monster. He will break her."

"She's resilient. She survived the streets. She will survive his bed.” I thought I might throw up.

"Does she know?"

"I will tell her after the gala tonight. The wedding is in three days."

Three days, he got to be fucking kidding me, I had three days of freedom left, I stepped back from the door. My whole body felt wrong, too light, like I might float away or shatter into pieces.

I should burst in there. I should scream. I should flip his desk and tell him exactly what kind of monster he is, but I'd been trained better than that.

Castellano girls don't make scenes, we smile, we nod, we do what we're told.

So I walked down the hallway. Past the family portraits where we all looked so happy. Past Isabella's room where she was probably getting ready, already knowing what was about to happen to me.

I made it to my room, closed the door, and locked it. Then I slid down to the floor and pressed both hands over my mouth to keep the scream inside.

****************************

The dress was already laid out on my bed, Red silk, the kind that clings to everything, the kind that costs more than most people's cars.

I stared at it.

I didn't pick out a red dress, I had planned to wear the black one, the one with sleeves, the one that didn't make me look like I was gift-wrapped for someone. I went to my closet, and the black dress was gone.

My heart started doing that too-fast thing again, Someone had been in my room, Someone had gone through my closet. Take my dress and leave this one.

I checked my drawers. My laptop was still locked. My phone was charging where I'd left it. Nothing else looked touched.

Just the dress.

Someone wanted me in red tonight, so I picked it up. The silk slid through my fingers like water. It was beautiful, it was horrible, it was advertising. I stood there holding it and thought about running. Just grabbing my keys and driving. Getting on a plane to somewhere Julio Castellano's name meant nothing.

But I knew better. Julio would find me, he always found people who ran, and if he didn't, Alessandro would, Fifty million dollars buys a lot of tracking and a hell lot of motivation, So I did what I had been doing since I was twelve years old.

I put on the disguise.

I showered, did my makeup with steady hands even though my insides were shaking. I put on the red dress that someone else had chosen for me. I pulled my hair back so tight my scalp ached. When I looked in the mirror, the girl staring back looked perfect, manipulated, and expensive.

She looked like fifty million dollars.

I practiced my smile, the one that said everything was fine when the world was burning down.

Two hours. I had two hours before I met the man who bought me.

*********************************************

The ballroom was too bright and too loud and too full of people who probably knew exactly what was happening. I stood next to Julio with his hand clamped on my elbow. Guiding me through the crowd like I was a show dog he was bringing to the judges.

"Smile," he murmured in my ear. "You look like you're at a funeral."

"Maybe I am," I said, his fingers digging in harder, a warning.

I smiled, the fake one I had practiced, I scanned the room, looking for him. I'd seen Alessandro Romano once before. Six months ago at some charity event. He'd been standing in a corner. Not talking. Not drinking. Just staring at me with those dead blue eyes.

For three seconds our eyes locked. Then someone pulled me away and when I looked back, he was gone. I thought that was the end of it.

I was so fucking wrong.

"There." Julio's voice went tight with relief. "Lorenzo just arrived. Alessandro will be with him." I followed his gaze.

The crowd was parting, like the Red Sea, like everyone instinctively knew to get out of the way, An old man walked through first. Lorenzo Romano, with White hair, an Expensive suit, cane he definitely didn't need.

And behind him—Oh god.

Alessandro Romano was taller than I remembered. Bigger. He wore a black tuxedo that probably cost more than my entire education, his hair was dark and perfectly styled, and his face was all pointed angles and cold.

And his eyes are blue. Pale, pale blue, like winter ice.

He wasn't looking around the room at all the important people trying to catch his attention, he was looking at me, only me, like he'd known exactly where I was standing the second he walked in.

My mouth went dry.

"Come." Julio pulled me forward. "Time to meet your future husband."

Husband, the word sounded weird. We walked toward them and every step felt wrong, like walking off a cliff, like walking into a cage. Alessandro didn't move, he just stood there and watched me come to him.

Ten feet, then five feet, then three feet.

We stopped. Lorenzo was talking about trade agreements and peace and building a better future for both families, I wasn't listening to a word, I was staring at Alessandro, and fuck he was staring back.

Not the way men usually looked at me, not at my body or my face or the dress clinging to my curves.

He was looking at me like he was counting my heartbeats. Like he knew exactly how fast my pulse was racing. Like he could see straight through the disguise to the terrified girl underneath, like he had been waiting his entire life for this exact moment.

"Giselle." Julio's voice snapped me back. "This is Don Alessandro Romano. Your fiancé."

Alessandro stepped forward. He was close enough now that I could smell him, Sandalwood and something darker, yet manly, Something that made my hindbrain scream danger.

He reached out and took my hand, I flinched, I couldn't help it, he noticed. Of course, he noticed, but he took my hand anyway. His hand was warm, rough, Calloused in a way that said he didn't just give orders, He also pulled triggers too.

He lifted my hand slowly to his mouth.

But he didn't kiss it. He just held it there. His breath warm against my knuckles. His eyes locked on mine. "Giselle," he said. My name in his mouth sounded different, Possessive. "I have been looking forward to seeing you again.”

His voice was deep, quiet. The kind of quiet that made you lean in to hear better even when you wanted to run. "Have you," I said, not a question. I was proud that my voice came out steady.

"For a very long time." Something about the way he said it made goosebumps rise on my arms.

How long? What did that mean? He lowered my hand but didn't let go. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a slow, deliberate touch.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said. "Red suits you."

I opened my mouth to say thank you. To play the role of the grateful fiancée, but then I remembered the dress, the one that mysteriously appeared in my room, and the black one that disappeared.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. "Did you pick this dress?" I asked.

Julio sucked in a breath next to me. You don't question a Don, you don't challenge a Don and you definitely don't accuse a Don, but Alessandro smiled, It wasn't a nice smile, It was the smile of a wolf that just cornered a rabbit.

"Yes," he said simply. "I wanted to see you in red."

"Why?"

He stepped even closer. Close enough that I had to lean my head back to keep looking at his face.

"Because," he said, his voice dropping lower, "red is the color of things that belong to me."

The ballroom spun, he had been in my room, or had someone go through my things, and he had picked what I would wear tonight. He had been planning this.

"How long?" The question came out before I could stop it. "How long have you been watching me?"

Julio made a strangled noise. "Giselle…." But Alessandro held up one hand and Julio went silent.

Alessandro's eyes never left mine. "Since you were twelve years old," he said softly.

My blood turned to ice. Twelve, I was twelve when—When my father died. I stared at him. This man who had been watching me since I was a child. At this man who had gone through my closet and chosen what dress I would wear.

"Why," I breathed.

He reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away but I didn't. He tucked a loose curl behind my ear. His fingers grazed my jaw. The touch was gentle but somehow felt like a label.

"Because," he whispered, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my lips, "you've always been mine. You just didn't know it yet." He stepped back and dropped his hand.

The loss of his touch felt wrong and I hated that I noticed.

"The wedding is in three days, Giselle," he said in a normal voice. "Wear white. I already picked the dress." Then he turned and walked away. Back to his father. Back to the crowd that parted for him like he was royalty.

I stood there frozen.

Eleven years, he had been watching me for eleven years, since I was twelve, since the exact moment my father died in that alley, And suddenly a horrible, terrifying thought wormed its way into my brain: Had Alessandro Romano just bought me?

Or had he been the one who made me available to buy in the first place?