Chapter one

THE PRICE OF A PEARCE

I laughed when my father told me I was getting married.

It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was the kind that escaped when something was so absurd your mind refused to accept it.

My father didn’t laugh.

He sat at the head of the dining table, his silver hair perfectly combed, his expression colder than the rain outside.

“I’m glad you find this amusing, Amelie.”

I lowered my wineglass.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Who is the unfortunate man?”

“Gio Locatelli.”

My smile disappeared.

Even in New York, the Locatelli name carried a certain weight. Money, power, bloodshed. People who crossed that family rarely lived long enough to regret it.

I pushed my chair backwards.

“Absolutely not.”

“The decision has been made,” Daniel Pearce replied, returning to his dinner.

“By whom? Because nobody consulted me.”

“This marriage will strengthen our alliance.”

I stared at him.

“I’m your daughter, not a business contract.”

His knife stopped moving.

“Watch your tone.”

“Watch what you’re asking me to do.”

Lightning illuminated the armed guards outside our windows.

I’d grown up believing the security surrounding our estate was a consequence of wealth. Recently, I’d begun wondering whether it was actually a consequence of the enemies my father had made.

“Why Gio?” I demanded.

“Because he can protect this family.”

“From whom?”

“You don’t need to know.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Apparently, I only need to marry a dangerous stranger and hope he doesn’t murder me before our honeymoon.”

“Gio won’t hurt you.”

The certainty in his voice disturbed me.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know him.”

“And I don’t.”

“The wedding is in three weeks.”

I stared at him.

“You’ve already chosen a date?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Should I choose my own coffin too?”

“Amelie!”

I grabbed my handbag.

Then his voice softened.

“Your mother would have wanted you safe.”

I froze.

My mother had supposedly died in a car accident eight years ago. I remembered her funeral, the white flowers and my father’s refusal to let me see her one last time.

He’d told me it was better to remember her alive.

I’d believed him.

Perhaps I’d been too young to question the things that never made sense.

“Don’t bring Mum into this.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“Then start telling me the truth.”

He looked away.

That was when I realised my father wasn’t simply arranging a marriage.

He was terrified.

And somehow, I was the price of his fear.

Gio Locatelli arrived the following afternoon.

Three black SUVs rolled through our gates. The guards immediately straightened as a tall man stepped out of the middle vehicle.

His charcoal suit fitted perfectly. Dark hair framed a face that might have been handsome if it weren’t so intimidating.

He didn’t admire the mansion or acknowledge the expensive surroundings.

He studied the guards, cameras and windows.

He was assessing the property.

Interesting.

“Gio,” my father greeted him.

“Daniel.”

Their handshake looked more like a warning than a greeting.

I descended the staircase before anyone could summon me.

Gio noticed me immediately.

“So you’re the man I’m supposed to marry.”

One corner of his mouth lifted.

“And you’re the woman who already hates me.”

“I haven’t decided that yet.”

“How reassuring.”

“I’ve decided I won’t marry you. Everything else remains uncertain.”

My father muttered my name.

Gio looked almost entertained.

“Can we speak privately?”

“Why? Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“Not particularly. I’m curious about my future bride.”

“Then curiosity is the only thing you’ll be marrying.”

His smile vanished.

For a second, our eyes remained locked.

Then he glanced at my father.

“Perhaps we should talk.”

The sitting room smelled of leather and fresh roses.

Gio closed the door.

“I didn’t ask your father to sell you to me.”

“Congratulations. That’s the bare minimum.”

“Our families are in danger.”

I folded my arms.

“From whom?”

“Someone who has been threatening both families.”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“That’s a question for Daniel.”

He moved towards the window.

“Three months ago, your father insisted he could handle everything himself. Last week, he called me demanding this marriage happen immediately.”

“Why agree?”

“Because refusing might put you in greater danger.”

My stomach tightened.

“Have you noticed anyone asking about your mother?”

I stared at him.

“What does she have to do with this?”

His expression changed.

“More than you realise.”

I stepped closer.

“What do you know about her?”

Before he answered, my father knocked.

“Gio, your men are waiting.”

Gio opened the door, but paused beside me.

“If you want the truth, ask your father what happened at St. Catherine’s Hospital the night your mother died.”

Then he left.

I remained motionless.

St. Catherine’s Hospital.

I’d never heard that name before.

At 11:53 p.m., my phone vibrated.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You deserve to know what happened to your mother.

Another message followed.

Ask Gio why he was the last person to see her alive.

Then a photograph appeared.

My mother stood outside a private hospital, her hand resting on the shoulder of a younger Gio.

The date was the same night she’d supposedly died.

My fingers trembled.

One final message appeared.

Your mother didn’t die in that accident, Amelie. Your father knows exactly where she is.

A knock interrupted me.

“Amelie.”

Gio.

I opened the door, holding up the photograph.

His expression changed immediately.

“Where did you get that?”

“Tell me the truth. Did you kill my mother?”

“No.”

“Then why were you with her that night?”

His phone rang.

He answered sharply.

“What?”

I watched his expression darken.

“What do you mean she’s alive?”

He ended the call.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he looked at me.

“Amelie, your mother is alive.”

My knees weakened.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you marrying me?”

He stepped closer.

“Because your mother made me promise to protect you if anyone ever tried to use you against our families.”

“And the marriage?”

His eyes held mine.

“Your mother is the reason I agreed.”

Before I could respond, his phone vibrated again.

He read the message.

Something murderous crossed his face.

“What is it?” I whispered.

He turned the screen towards me.

A photograph showed my father standing beside a woman in a hospital corridor.

My mother.

Beneath it were six words.

YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN HIDING HER.

I looked up at Gio.

“Why would my father lie?”

He reached for his gun.

“Because, sweetheart, your father isn’t the man you think he is.”

A gunshot shattered the silence outside.

Gio pulled me behind him.

And then he whispered something that made my blood run cold.

“Whatever happens, Amelie, don’t let your father take you alive.”