1. THE CHOICE BETWEEN DEATH AND A WARM BED

SOPHIA

The thing about funerals is that they're supposed to be sad. My husband's own was terrifying.

I stood in the back corner of my bedroom and watched my dead husband's father, Big Mike pace like a caged animal.

"You will do as I say, Sophia." His voice was eerily calm, which was somehow worse than his usual roar. "Or I swear to God, your mother will be dead within the week."

It was just two hours since David had been lowered into his grave but it was apparently more than enough time for Big Mike to decide what to do with his dead son's wife.

"Please, Mike. David promised he would keep paying for her treatment. I'm still his wife. That has to count for something." I begged.

"His widow," Mike corrected, and then his hand cracked across my face so fast I didn't see it coming.

Pain exploded across my cheekbone. I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of the dresser, and tasted blood on my tongue.

"You're his widow, which means you're mine now. You do not speak while I'm speaking. Do you understand?" Mike said.

I understood perfectly.

Big Mike, also Michael Winters Sr., patriarch of the most brutal crime family in New York, had been waiting four years for this moment.

And now David was gone, and there was no one left to stop him.

"I need time," I said, because begging might buy me hours if I did it right. I sank to my knees slowly. “Please, give me just a few months to mourn. To respect your son's memory. Then I'll do whatever you want."

The lie slid smoothly off my tongue. I would rather die than warm Big Mike's bed.

Mike stopped pacing. I kept my head down, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"You'll move your things into my bedroom tonight, or your mother's medical bills stop being paid.”

My hands clenched in my lap. "I have four more months of mourning, it's tradition in mafia families, Mike. What will people say…”

"Fuck what people say and fuck tradition!"

The vase on my nightstand exploded against the wall two inches from my head.

Glass rained down on the carpet. A shard had cut my arm, leaving a thin red line from elbow to wrist.

I swallowed down the gasp of pain, and closed my eyes instead. Mike was in front of me now, close enough that I could smell the cigar smoke and whiskey on his skin.

"We both know you don't give a damn about respecting my son," he snarled. "You didn't love him, and you sure as hell didn't even fuck him. Four years of marriage and not a single heir. Four years of you living in my house, spending my money, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing."

Because your son was gay, you ignorant bastard, I thought.

But I couldn't say that. David had made me promise back when we'd first made our arrangement that I would keep his secret in exchange for my mother's life.

To me, it had been a fair trade.

"I tried," I whispered, and real tears fell from my eyes. David had died three months ago from a car accident.

"You'll try harder with Christopher," Mike said, and my blood turned to ice. "My youngest son needs a wife. You'll marry him. You'll give me the grandson David never could. And if you can't manage that..."

He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.

"Then I'll put you to work in one of my clubs, and let every man in New York have a turn until you're used up and worthless. Do you understand me, girl?"

I understood.

Big Mike didn't make empty threats. Three years ago, he'd killed a man with his bare hands in the dining room because the guy had shorted him on a shipment.

I'd watched him do it while I ate my soup and pretended not to notice the blood spattering the china.

That was the real lesson of the Winters family: if you wanted to survive, you learned not to see things.

But I'd seen too much already. Mike would kill me before letting me go. Marrying his youngest son, Christopher, was just a way to keep me under his control.

"I understand," I said.

The door opened without a knock behind us and Neza stepped inside.

She stopped, seeing me on my knees, blood on my arm, glass scattered across the floor.

For just a second, shock flashed across her face, or maybe it was pity. Then it was gone, replaced by the same ice-cold mask she always wore.

Neza Martinez had been Big Mike's right hand for as long as I'd been married to David. Neza was beautiful in a severe way, always dressed in black like she was perpetually attending a funeral.

"Sir? Mr. Smith is here for the meeting. The shipment has been counted and secured in the warehouse." She said to Mike.

Shipment was the Winters family code for drugs, weapons, or occasionally people. I'd learned not to ask which.

Mike straightened, adjusting his suit jacket like he hadn't just been threatening to sex-traffic his daughter-in-law.

"Tell him I'll be there in five minutes. You can offer him a drink. The Macallan, not the cheap shit."

"Yes, sir." Neza's eyes darted to me again, then she was gone, closing the door with a soft click.

Mike turned back to me. "I've been patient with you, Sophia. Four years I've waited, but my patience has limits. You will be in my bed by four o'clock today. We'll discuss the arrangement with Christopher after."

My mind raced. Four o'clock was three hours away. I had three hours to figure out how to survive this.

"I will," I said, because there was no other answer I could give.

Mike's eyebrows rose. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

I watched as surprise flash across his face, followed by suspicion, then finally by some satisfaction.

He crossed to me, and his rough, callused hands, scarred from decades of violence cupped my chin, and forced my face up to meet his eyes.

"You're smarter than you look," he murmured, dragging his thumb across my cheek. The touch was almost gentle, which made it so much worse. "I always knew it. David was too weak to handle you properly, but I won't make that mistake."

"You'll be good for me, won't you, Sophia?"

"Yes, Big Mike," I whispered instead.

He smiled and released me. "Smart girl, wear the pink lace slip I gave you for your anniversary. I've been wanting to see you in it."

I swallowed hard. Something I greatly feared was about to happen to me.