Chapter 1

"Kneel, you cheap whore! What are you looking at?"

The burly man behind me slammed his rifle butt into my back.

I stumbled and fell flat on the cold marble floor.

My elbow hit the stone with a dull thud.

Several gunmen in black beside the weapons crates chambered rounds at once.

Valentino, in the seat of honor, didn't look up.

He wore a subtly patterned black shirt, open at the collar to reveal his solid chest.

He worked the thread with such care, you'd think he was handling a priceless treasure.

The tattered teddy bear lay cradled in his palm.

My mind raced as I stared at his callused hands.

Ten years.

Back then, in the pouring rain on a backstreet in the Naples slums, a few local thugs had dumped stolen food scraps on his head and made him bark like a dog.

I'd grabbed a board with a nail in it and swung at the gang leader like a madwoman, cracking his shoulder blade.

On my way back, I fished a bear missing its left eye out of a trash can and pushed it into his arms.

"Here, take it. Don't let anybody walk all over you again."

That was the first time he stared at me with those gray-green eyes, clutched my pant leg, and swore that if anyone ever made me bleed, he'd tear their throat out.

"Are you deaf? Get down and beg the Don for forgiveness!"

Bruno, a one-eyed capo with a full beard, strode over and ground the iron-studded sole of his boot into the back of my hand.

"Is this what Marcus sent over?"

He turned to Valentino with an ingratiating smile.

"Don, Mr. Galli says this woman spent four years in his bed. She knows exactly how to please a man.

"She just mouthed off to you. Want me to cut out her vocal cords and soak them in wine?"

Valentino slowly took the needle from between his lips and stuck it back in the bear's ear.

He didn't even look at me. He picked up the solid-gold lighter on the table and lit a cigar with a snap.

Blue-white smoke blurred his chiseled profile.

"Where's Marcus?"

His voice was husky, with the cold, careless air of a man who'd held the power of life and death for years.

Bruno bowed hastily.

"Mr. Galli is waiting outside the estate. He says he wouldn't dare come in and disturb your peace himself."

The huge projection screen on the side of the chapel suddenly lit up.

Marcus's handsome, phony face appeared on it, with Olivia in a couture gown tucked against his side.

"Mr. Sartori."

Marcus raised his champagne glass toward the camera with a cold smile.

"This tramp's been standing in for Olivia at my side. She's cheap as dirt.

"Just use her for target practice."

On the screen, Olivia hid a giggle behind her lace fan and sneered down at me.

"Claire, don't you love copying my style back in Milan?

"Why don't you try copying the Don's sweetheart who's buried at sea?"

She drew out every word, slow and taunting.

"If you upset the Don, there'll be one more body floating in these waters tomorrow morning."

I dug my nails into the marble until blood seeped from beneath them.

Just two days ago, Marcus had sworn that once he and Olivia were married, he'd give me a trust fund big enough to retire on and let me go.

Now he'd stripped me of my dignity himself and tossed me to this devil like garbage.

All to please his fiancée.

Valentino rubbed the silver ring on his thumb. His eyes came to rest on me.

The thin gold silk dress clung to me. The night wind gusted in through the stained-glass windows, and I couldn't stop shaking.

"Copy her?"

Valentino gave a low, cold snort, as if he'd heard a ridiculous joke.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and tapped the weapons crate with his silver ring.

"Fine.

"Let her play the part."

Bruno caught on at once, a nasty grin spreading across his face.

He picked up a bucket of ice water from beside the altar and dumped it over my head.

It streamed through my blond hair and down my collar. The cold made my chest seize.

"Got it? The Don says play the part!"

Bruno planted his boot on my back and pressed down hard.

"Don't tell me you never bothered to find out what the Don's dead wife was like?"

He pinned me against the stone floor, and my chin struck the cold tiles.

My eyes landed right on the tattered bear on Valentino's knee.

How could I not know?

It was ten years ago, in a rundown basement in the slums.

The Italian boy lay curled on a moldy straw mat, burning with fever and shivering with cold.

I soaked half a loaf of stolen black bread in hot water and brought it to his lips.

"Val, swallow."

His feverish eyes stayed on me. He was so obedient my heart melted.

Now he sat among piles of cash and weapons, watching his men grind me into the floor.

Marcus's sharp, impatient voice came from the screen.

"Claire, why are you playing dead?

"You were born to be somebody's shadow. Hurry up and act like a slut. Don't ruin Mr. Sartori's fun!"

I closed my eyes and forced back tears.

When I opened them again, I pushed myself up with my free left hand.

I raised my head, looked past Bruno's black boot, and met Valentino's gray-green eyes head-on.