3

I couldn’t picture myself being a husband or a father, but I continued to listen.

“You’ll be loyal to this woman, protect her with your life, and never take another woman while she’s yours—but it will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough.”

“Why would I waste my time on a woman like that?”

She examined the lines in my palm before she let me go. “Because that’s the curse. You’ll love this woman inexplicably. Forces outside of your control will dictate your emotions. You’ll be forced to love her even if you don’t want to. That will be your punishment.”

“Loving someone doesn’t seem like a punishment.”

“Love is the most painful feeling in the world. It’ll crush you, Hades. To be with the woman you love every day but know she doesn’t feel the same way… That’s torture.”

“Then why would she marry me in the first place?”

She shrugged. “That remains to be foreseen.” For the first time since I’d stepped inside that tent, she actually showed emotion—pity. She leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, like touching me had burned her fingertips. “But the cards don’t lie. You’re a dangerous man…and you’re only getting started.”

 

   

“Seriously?” Damien asked as we walked down the pathway to the brothel on the other side of the bazaar. “You’re not going to tell me what she said?”

“It was bullshit anyway.”

“Then, all the more reason.”

“She’s just some poor gypsy wanting to take our cash. I’m sure she tried to pickpocket us a few times.”

“Didn’t look like it to me.” He continued to look at me as he walked by my side. “So, what? You’re just never going to tell me?”

“If it’s bullshit anyway, what does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s not bullshit. You never know. She didn’t know my name, so she can’t be that good.”

My feet stopped moving, and I halted in my tracks.

Damien took a few more steps before he realized I’d fallen behind. He turned around and looked at me. “What?”

She knew my name.

Damien hadn’t said it all day. There was no way she’d overheard. My driver’s license didn’t even show that name.

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, man?”

I moved forward again, going through the motions even though I was still shocked. “Yeah…I’m fine.”

1

Sofia

It was one of those big parties, the kind where so many people are invited that you’re only going to know a handful of people there. Publicity was important to my parents. As one of the most famous hotel owners in the country, my father had an image to uphold. Success. Popularity. Money. Those were all important to him.

But they were more important to my mother.

It was the grand opening of our new hotel in Florence, Tuscan Rose—with three hundred rooms, a gorgeous lobby, three pools, and everything anyone would want for a summer vacation in Italy.

I was only eighteen years old, but someday, this hotel would be mine. I would run it with the same integrity my father did, with the same attention to detail, and with the best customer service any guest could ask for.

But for tonight, I was still too young to even think about those things. In my black party dress with my hair pulled to one side, I stepped into the ballroom and watched everyone mingle, holding cocktails as they appreciated the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the wagyu beef appetizers being passed around by the waiters.

I stood off to the side and stared at them all. It was a fun party, but since I was the youngest person there, I felt out of place.

My father came out of the crowd, tall, lean, and with a moustache that he’d sported as long as I could remember, and placed his hand at the small of my back. “There you are, Sofia. I wanted to introduce you to a couple people.”

I was tired of meeting new people that I would never remember. Their faces wouldn’t register, and their names would only be in my brain for two seconds before I forgot them too. I was proud of my father and everything he accomplished, but I was also bored by the whole ordeal. “Sure.”

He guided me to a group of older men. We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and my father proudly introduced me as his beautiful daughter. More niceties were exchanged before they moved away.

Then the most beautiful man in the world walked right up to us. Young, muscular, and with a light shadow on his jawline just the way I liked, he approached us both confidently and shook my father’s hand. “Congratulations, Peter. This hotel will be here hundreds of years.” He held himself perfectly straight, a handsome face on a strong frame. His black suit was nearly the color of his dark hair, and his brown eyes looked like two pieces of melted chocolate. He was definitely older than me, but much younger than the rest of the guests at the party.