PROLOGUEAlessandra Franco POV
Of all the things on my to-do list today, getting myself kidnapped was not one of them.I count five of them. Maybe six, but I can’t be sure. Three guards watch over me today because this was supposed to be a routine cash pickup. My men are quickly incapacitated. Before I even have the chance to blink or draw the gun hidden in my jacket’s inner pocket, someone throws a bag of thickly woven black cloth over my head and disarms me.I can’t see a thing. The bag smells sour with sweat. My hands are forcefully bound behind me with what I can only assume are thick zip ties. I scream bloody murder, kicking and thrashing with all my might as someone grabs me by the arms, lifts me off the pavement, and promptly throws me into the back of a—car. They slam the door and the noises of the city become muffled, barely audible over my frantic breathing. Did these sons of bitches seriously throw me into a trunk? Do they know who I am?The rumble of a car engine, the squeal of tires against the concrete, and a few panicked honks from nearby traffic. We’re on the move, driving so chaotically I’m jostled around like nothing more than a sack of potatoes.A sane person would panic if they were in my shoes. They’d scream, cry, maybe even throw up. But I’m no stranger to this kind of pressure. Dad has trained me my whole life to remain cool, calm, and collected for situations like this. Right now, I need to focus. Time is not on my side and every second counts.Ultimately, it comes down to figuring out what they want. Are they trying to traffic me? No, that can’t be it. Why go after a woman who has security details when they could easily nab a lone girl off the street? This must be a targeted kidnapping, then. I’m going to give these assholes the benefit of the doubt and say they don’t know who I am, just that they wanted someone of my apparent standing.Poised and put together. My guards would have given the impression of a certain level of importance. The image of class, power, and wealth. I’d bet Aunt Adelina’s horses these clowns are after my family’s money. They’re in for a sore surprise. Intentional or not, you don’t fuck with the Franco Family and live to tell the tale.These sorry suckers will be dead by nightfall. Dad will make sure of it. All I have to do is bide my time.Since my hands are bound, I feel around blindly with the bottom of my boot. I kick at what I think is the trunk lid. It’s sturdy, and reinforced. There’s supposed to be an emergency escape latch built into all vehicles, but it doesn’t seem like this car has one. They must have modified it, which tells me one thing: I’m dealing with professionals.It’s difficult to tell how long we’ve been driving, but when the vehicle finally comes to a stop, it’s an abrupt lurch that sends me flying into one of the walls. Outside, I hear chatter. Low voices, snappy orders. Hurried footsteps and shoes squeaking against the floor. The next thing I know, the trunk lid flies open, bringing with it a sudden rush of cool, fresh air. I didn’t realize how stuffy and hot it was in there.A pair of strong hands grabs me and throws me over their shoulder. I am just a sack of potatoes to them. I don’t bother struggling because I’d much rather save my strength. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. Why go through all the trouble just to shoot me elsewhere? Besides, if my suspicions are correct, they need me alive and well so they can use me as a bargaining chip.“Why isn’t she moving?” a man grumbles. “You didn’t knock her out, did you?”“Don’t think so,” says the guy carrying me.“Better not have,” someone else adds. “The Boss will kill you. He doesn’t want a scratch on her.”My ears burn. The Boss? Who could this walking dead man be?I guess I’m about to find out.I’m placed harshly in a chair, solid and heavy, barely moving when it takes the brunt of my weight. The hood over my head comes off with a quick yank, a blinding light above me burning my retinas to a crisp. I blink and blink again, my vision slowly coming into focus. Apart from the pendant light above, the room is cast in almost total darkness.I scan the room, picking out five distinct faces. Men in suits. In passing, they’d easily be mistaken as run-of-the-mill office workers. But upon closer inspection, I can see this uniform of theirs is by design. They want to be forgettable—just another passerby in an endless sea of people. They all have black hair and dark green eyes, as well as similarly shaped noses. Are they brothers?I take them in one by one, noting the details of their faces. One of them is particularly distinct, a nasty scar running straight through his left eye. There’s no color in it, the iris clouded over and grey. My uncles Emmanuel and Montero are covered in all kinds of scars, and I’ve watched Aunt Natalya stitch up some of the gnarliest of injuries, so I’m used to seeing these sorts of things.The next man is large. Huge like a mountain and wide like a fucking bulldozer. Tattoos crawl up the side of his neck, his arms, all the way down to his knuckles sporting fat gold rings. I can tell in an instant his jewelry isn’t a fashion statement. These rings are meant to hurt. In place of brass knuckles, they’d be a perfect substitute.The third guy is by far the most impressively dressed. Modest silver cufflinks, his hair swept back. His smile is warm and charming, but the wicked glint in his eyes warns me not to be fooled. He reminds me of Uncle Craig, charismatic and bold—deceptively so.My fourth captor is smaller than the others and less confident. He stands to the side, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to shrink in on himself, but that doesn’t make him appear any smaller. His expression is bitter, a permanent scowl etched onto his face. Unlike the others, he isn’t looking at me, but at the fifth and final man in the room—almost as if searching for approval.Alexander Mancini is the man on whom I focus.XXXLeonardo Sebastian Franco's POVMost people don’t know they’re going to get married the first time they meet. Relationships develop over time. Some men and women weigh up the pros and cons to decide if they can live with someone until death does their part. Others follow their heart. Others claimed them by heart.Not for me.In my family, tradition dictates differently. The decision was made for me a long time ago. That’s how the business works. Money is power, and power is everything. Power means survival. It’s the most fundamental rule of the world.My name is Leonardo Sebastian Franco, son of Fernando Franco.Only the strongest survive. I am strong. I am powerful.Now, I want to survive together with my Mafia Family. That’s why I’m here, why we’re driving up the road that zigzags to the top of the hill and ends in a cul-de-sac. A mansion peeks from behind high walls. Beyond, the ocean glimmers in the golden dusk. Below, to the right, the lagoon is a flawless mirror surrounding the
“Like I said,” Barry Maximo says, balling his hands on the desk, “it’s not going to happen. My daughter is independent. She has a free will.” He slams a fist on his desk. “She will marry when she’s ready and who she bloody well wants.”The patience vanishes from my father’s features. He stands. His smile is intact, but the quiet authority of his voice as he towers over Maximo leaves no uncertainty as to the outcome of this conversation. “Take some time to share the happy news with her. I can see it won’t be today. What’s another few months if it’ll help her get used to the idea? However, make no mistake. The wedding will happen. You made the bargain, and I’ll hold you to it.”Maximo jumps to his feet. He opens his mouth but wisely thinks the better of whatever he is going to say and shuts it again. He’s got money, but we’re the ones bargaining with fear. Our threats are never empty.The door is yanked open, cutting into the tense atmosphere.A thickset woman with short auburn hair wea
Luna Belle Fernandez POV Just one more minute.I let a little air from my lungs and sink deeper into the cool water. The salt no longer burns my open eyes. A wedge of sun rays pierces the surface and fans out to the bottom. Bubbles catch the light. Like tiny beads of fragile glass, they stick to my arms and legs. Life under the water is muted, the sounds dispersed. The rhythmic ebb and flow of the break is a distant lullaby. The tide gently rocks me to that beat. Forward and backward. Push and pull.If I could, I’d stay here forever, but I can only hold my breath for so long.I swim up and gulp in the air when I break the surface. Treading water, I catch my breath. It’s warmer in the water than outside. The late afternoon sky already glows with a champagne-colored tint. The whining of a violin drifts down from our garden. It must be the string quartet Mom hired for the party.I’d rather make the most of the last hour of daylight and swim until my muscles cramp than listen to Aunt Bet
Luna Belle POVI turn my face toward the voice, and then everything inside me goes still. The guy leaning on the wall next to the door is both the most arresting and scariest male specimen I’ve seen. With a square jaw and strong nose, his angular face is strikingly handsome. Yet at a certain angle, there’s a harshness to those lines. Tall and broad with hair as black as coal and skin with a Mediterranean coloring, he looks like a character who emerged straight from a fantasy book. From a different world. He can be either a fallen angel or a demon, depending on his mood.Right now, with the tilt to his lips, he leans toward the angelic side, but rather an archangel with a sword decapitating dragons than an angel with soft white wings. If he scowls, he’ll look more like a demon. He’s so beautiful, so utterly perfectly created, that something twists in my stomach. He’s dark like the ocean and breathless like water. That’s how I’d describe him if I could only use one word.Water.However,
Carefully, he hands the box back to me. “If I’d known you were allergic, Mrs. Fernandez, I would’ve included antihistamines with the gift. It’s an easy enough problem to solve and a small sacrifice to pay for Luna’s happiness.” He adds with a mocking smile, “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for the oversight.”My mom’s nostrils flare. Her chest rises as she inhales sharply. Seemingly unable to string together words to make a sentence, she flicks her fingers again at which the gardener slips away as fast as he appeared.“Well,” my mom says, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “You better go settle your new pet and get ready. You’ve kept everyone waiting long enough. I’ll tell your Aunt Mildred to help you get dressed so that your guests don’t have to wait another hour.”Turning up her nose, she leaves as regally as her high heels allow.I’m shocked to a standstill, unable to believe my luck. Gaping at the handsome stranger, I say with all the sincerity I possess, “Thank you.”A hint of warmth soft
“Hmmm.” He contemplates my answer, studying the road in the headlights of the car. “That will certainly win you her agreement to marry you, but emotions are fickle. You can’t trust love alone to seal such an important deal. From what I’ve heard, she’s close to her father. If he doesn’t consent, she may refuse to marry you for not wanting to disappoint him or evoke his disapproval. If Barry Maximo was the only stumbling block, it would’ve been easy enough to simply get rid of him, but if he dies before you’ve taken possession of your share of the company, Bryan Andrade will inherit everything. No,” he muses. “We need Barry Maximo to agree. We need a much stronger incentive than love.”I hit the brakes and slow down to the speed limit as we approach the golf estate. A guard signs us in at the gates.Drumming my fingers on the wheel, I contemplate our situation. Barry Maximo isn’t pulling out of the deal he made only because he doesn’t want his princess to marry a lowly, filthy Filipino-
Everyone admires the bracelet, except my mom. She seems upset about the fact that I like it so much, but it’s only because she doesn’t want anyone’s gift to outshine hers. My parents’ gift is a grand piano wrapped in white velvet and tied with a gigantic pink ribbon. I’ve never played the piano, and I don’t have the talent to or ever will. When I point that out to Mom, she says the piano will make a good impression in my living room, one day, and that I have lots of friends who can entertain me by playing.By lots of friends, she means Robinson, my childhood friend and neighbor. None of my other friends are musically talented. Robinson and I were born a week apart, and we were in the same class for the whole of primary school. We were only separated in high school because my parents sent me to a girls-only private school while Robinson got shipped to the boys’ school. My mom is still secretly hoping we’ll marry one day. Fat chance. Robinson is like a brother to me.After the lychee sp
Leonardo Sebastian Franco's POVAn hour before dawn, I pull on a tracksuit and search my hotel room for items suitable for a kidnapping. I settle on the laundry bag and one of my socks. The thick black bag won’t let light through, and the sock won’t leave marks. Then I scribble a note on the hotel stationary to inform my father that I’m going for a jog on the beach. After slipping the note under his door, I snatch a pair of golf gloves from the kiosk in reception on my way out.In the car, I pull the address I’d taken from the HR records at Barry Maximo’s office up on the GPS. Selecting the shortest route, I head out to an affluent neighborhood on the outskirts of Kabankalan and park in front of a modern house that overlooks the valley.The morning is misty, the sun battling to break through the clouds on the horizon. Cows graze on the green hills behind the sea. I switch on the car heater to defog the windscreen. While I wait, I fire off an email from my phone, instructing our best m