THE GODFATHER'S DAUGHTER

Prologue:Anne Rose Franco POV My name is Anne Rose Franco, the daughter of the Billionaire Godfather Adonis Franco. My sister, Christine Mae Franco married to Mafia Billionaire Apollo Kian Ferrari. I knew that Christine Mae husband killed her.I’m about to marry my sister’s husband. Worst of all, she’d hate this wedding.It’s drab, serious, stuffy. None of it was my choice—nobody asked my opinion on anything, from the dress to the flowers to the location. I’m stashed away in a corner room at the top of my future husband’s mansion, and I’m pretty sure everyone’s forgotten about me except for the women he hired to do my hair and makeup. That’s what I mean to this little ceremony. I’m a body with a last name, and that’s pretty much it. Might as well kill me, stuff me, and toss me out there on strings, so long as my corpse smiles, nods, and looks pretty. I doubt my sister’s husband would mind.I dab at my eyes. The bathroom door’s locked. It’s the only way to get some privacy. I don’t c

Anne Rose Franco POVEvery step feels like a thunderclap. Even barefoot, my heels discarded at the far end of the hall, it’s like each step is loud enough to wake the dead.I’m shocked Apollo Kian can’t hear my heart racing. It’s pounding in my ear, painfully loud and fast.I reach a staircase and listen. The sounds of the wedding party murmur up toward me, but they’re distant. I hear the clattering of dishes, a few shouts, a stressed conversation in Filipino, Russian and English.With a deep breath, I take the stairs, going as fast as I dare.It leads me into a back hallway. Straight ahead is a kitchen. Men and women dart around in black and white jackets, ferrying appetizer plates, cleaning glasses, ignoring everything but their tasks. To the left are a pair of doors, and beyond them is the party itself. I spot guests mingling nearby, older people I don’t recognize.To my left is another hall.I hurry away from the party and the kitchen. The sounds recede when I turn the corner. Ahe

Anne Rose POVWe blow past him. I barely hear him shout in alarm. We burst out from the shadow of the house, down the line of cars. I catch a glimpse of the front stairs on my left, majestic and obscene, leading up to an enormous gold-framed door. Guests linger, sipping champagne. There’s a fountain in the middle of the driveway where more guests are perched, talking happily, as guards and waiters move among them.Engelbert keeps running. “Don’t stop,” he says through his teeth.I couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s like a train loosed from its tracks, barreling ahead, barely under control. I’m doing my best to stay on my feet. I step on something sharp and suck in a pained breath, but ignore the agony in my sole and push on. Adrenaline’s fueling me now, dulling everything but the urgency of the escape.Shouts ring out. I spot guards breaking from the guests and angling toward us. “Where’s your car?” I say between breaths. “Where are we going?”“Just ahead.” A black Lexus at the very e

Anne Rose Franco POVI whistle, unable to believe the balls on this guy. It’s actually impressive. “I think calling you insane was understating things a bit. You’re a total maniac. I kind of like it, honestly.”“There’s only one way to win big, my little Bratva princess, and that’s to take big risks. So what do you say? Marry me, Anne Rose. We’ll dominate your enemies together.”I wave him off. “Don’t use Russian pet names, you prick. Sounds terrible coming from you.” I rub my temples, trying to keep my throbbing brain in place. I feel like it’s going to leak from my skull. This guy’s got massive plans and far-reaching ideas, and there’s no way he’s telling me everything. As impressive as I find him, I don’t trust him at all, and I don’t particularly like him. “You realize what you’re asking me to do, right?”“I understand the magnitude of my request.”“I’ll be starting a war with my own family on the other side.”“You mean the people working with the man that murdered your sister.”I

Anne Rose POVHe catches me as I stumble away, holding me tight to his bare skin. “Panic attack. Just breathe with me. Come on, princess. Breathe with me.”The nickname pisses me off, but maybe that’s what snaps me back into my body. I breathe with him, falling into rhythm, my face pressed against his chest. I can hear his heart racing like he’s excited to have me this close. I stay like that, breathing his smell, that cinnamon and spice, before I finally pull away. My hands tremble, my lips are numb, but I’m under control again.“This has been a very stressful day,” I say, walking a few feet away.“I agree,” he says. “Not the most ideal afternoon.”“Why are you shirtless?” I glance at him. “It’s a bit much.”“I was sweaty from our run. Wanted to shower.” He cocks his head. “Do you mind?”“Yes. I mean, no, it’s not—” I shut my mouth. “Do whatever you want.”“You can join me if you like. I have other ways to ease your tension.”“I am absolutely not going to shower with you.” Though a t