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Chiara

I looked longingly at the canapé I had managed to steal from the kitchen.

I sighed before popping it into my mouth and slowly chewed the salmon roll.

What I thought might be a relief to my hungry stomach turned out to be a huge disappointment. It was the most tasteless damn canapé I had ever tasted, and it was the only thing I had been able to ingest that day.

“Shit,” I whispered in disgust before taking a sip from my champagne cup.

If before I was annoyed at being forced to play the role of the dutiful daughter of Lorenzo Moretti, capo of the 'Ndrangheta, at that moment I was completely furious at not being able to eat something decent.

I checked my phone, but the battery had died.

The situation couldn't get any worse.

I was not only hungry, irritated, and overheated; I was also bored.

I had only been in Italy for a few weeks, living in an opulent and dangerous world that my mother had kept me away from. That night, at the Greco mansion, I understood why my mother had made that decision. I myself wanted to get the hell out and go back to New York.

“This is a disaster,” I said in a whisper and drank the rest of the champagne in one gulp.

I heard laughter, so I moved to hide behind the large rose hedges that connected to the Greco's garden show: a beautiful labyrinth.

Damn, I thought bored.

I had hidden in the garden to avoid prying eyes and uncomfortable questions about my existence. I was a newcomer in the world of the mafia.

“Bored, bella straniera (beautiful foreigner)?” A man asked from the side, and I jumped in fright.

I turned immediately to say a scathing remark but couldn't.

I saw the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life.

He was leaning against the hedge, grinning amusedly, as if I were the most interesting thing at the party. My cheeks flushed immediately at the sight of me uncovered.

“Does it show much?” I asked, feignedly calmly, in an attempt to regain my sanity.

He stood up straight, and I immediately realized that he was a very tall, strong, and intimidating man, yet there was something relaxed about his posture that calmed me. Perhaps it was the mischievous spark in his gray eyes that contrasted with the palpable tension in the atmosphere. For an instant, I forgot my purpose of invisibility and smiled without realizing it.

The stranger smiled, baring all his teeth at me, and it was devastating to realize that his perfect smile matched his angular features and thick black hair.

“Your battle against that salmon roll was epic, although it looked like the roll had offended you personally.”

A genuine laugh escaped my lips, catching me off guard.

“The food is only as good as the smiles everyone offered me tonight,” I admitted sarcastically.

“Ah, I see you understand the code,” he said with a bigger smile and extended his hand to me. “I am Alessandro.”

“Chiara,” I replied and shook his hand firmly, as my father had taught me to do.

At that moment I felt an electric current run through my body, and Alessandro looked at me in a different way. I could swear his nostrils flared wider.

“Chiara,” Alessandro said as if he savored my name, released my hand, and looked me over from head to toe. “It's a beautiful name, worthy of its meaning.”

“Illustrious is the most accurate meaning of my name, and I have no sense of being illustrious,” I said with amusement.

“Of course, you are illustrious and unforgettable,” Alessandro said and took a sip from his cup. “However, what I don't know about illustrious is that you seem ready to run away from this lovely evening.”

I smiled with amusement.

“Would you like to know the truth?” I asked innocently, and he nodded immediately. “I'm evaluating my strategic options.”

Alessandro tilted his head and looked at me curiously.

“Have you found a feasible escape route yet?” He asked, holding back a smile, and I lifted my shoulders.

“Maybe,” I said mysteriously, and we laughed, “I'm not going to reveal my secrets to a stranger so easily.”

“Too bad,” Alessandro replied with a mock pitiful tone. “I thought I'd tell you that the best escape route is to jump the hedges on the south side of the labyrinth.”

I let out another laugh at his refreshing humor and realized that I felt very comfortable with Alessandro. That was unusual.

“Sounds tempting, maybe for another night.”

“It will definitely be another night, Chiara,” Alessandro said firmly.

His gaze became so intense that my body tensed in an inexplicable way.

I did the smart thing: I ran away.

“Well, Alessandro, it was... nice talking to you. I need to... go to the bathroom,” I said quickly and turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

“The pleasure was mine, Chiara,” Alessandro said with a charming smile and kissed my hand. That gesture gave me goosebumps. “I hope to see you very soon.”

I nodded and quickly left.

I felt her gaze boring into my back, and as I entered the mansion, I felt some relief.

I left the empty cup on a tray and headed for the bathroom. When I closed the door, I leaned against the cold ceramic of the sink and sighed.

Alessandro.

His name echoed in my mind like an infinite loop.

His mischievous smile and amused look were too interesting.

That man could be the devil's temptation if he set his mind to it. And if I was honest with myself, maybe meeting Alessandro had been the most interesting thing of the night.

Then don't hide in the bathroom, silly!

I sighed at that thought, looked in the mirror, and the reflection didn't sit well with me.

Although I looked splendidly made up and was dressed in an elegant black Chanel dress, I didn't feel comfortable. I shook my head and touched up my makeup, especially the red lipstick that had faded.

“If I have to endure this party, at least I'm not going to be bored,” I said with amusement and walked out of that bathroom determined to chat with Alessandro.

I walked toward the garden, but Alessandro was nowhere to be seen.

A pang of disappointment ran through my body.

At that moment, I felt a firm hand on my arm and knew immediately who held me by the smell of the perfume I had given him myself on his birthday. 

“Chiara, come with me,” my father said, and I raised my eyebrows. “There are people you must meet.”

I knew immediately that this was not a request but an order.

A waiter walked past us, and I took another cup of champagne.

My father said nothing but squeezed my arm tighter, so I followed him through the maze. We went through a tunnel of hedges and reached the center. There was a large table and two waiters ready to serve.

I was surprised to see that many important men were there.

Italian mafia capos were conversing in low voices while avoiding soiling their custom-made suits. When they saw me, they immediately looked me over from head to toe. I felt disgust and fear at the same time. I knew my father had brought me to the party for an ulterior motive, but I didn't think he would dare to formally introduce me to his business associates.

Damn it, I hope Dad honors the agreement, I thought angrily.

I had agreed to stay in Italy if my father agreed to pay for medical treatments for Fabiano, my maternal grandfather. What I was earning as a novice writer was not enough to cover all the expenses, and, besides, I wanted extra money to pay for specialized studies in creative writing.

I held back and walked behind my father.

What I never expected was to see Alessandro in the middle of that group of men.

Unlike how he had had a casual posture next to me, there was no trace of that lightness at that table. His presence was imposing, his gaze was intense, and his expression was that of a lion about to catch its prey.

I had a bad feeling.

“Chiara, may I introduce you to the signori of Italy (gentlemen of Italy),” my father said in a serious manner. “Marcelo Greco, capo of the Casamonica and our host; Paolo Esposito, capo of the Sacra Corona Unita; Stefano Lombardi, capo of the Camorra; and Alessandro D'Amato, capo of the Cosa Nostra.”

Alessandro nodded, and the name hit me like a punch.

He was a kind of ghost of whom legends were whispered, a man whose power rivaled my father's and the only one at the table who dared to have a hostile relationship with my progenitor.

He was known as the most feared predator in Italy.

Alessandro offered me a smile that didn't reach his gray eyes.

“Signorina Moretti (Miss Moretti). It is a pleasure for me to be able to meet you,” Alessandro said, dismissing our encounter in the garden, and I didn't even know what to reply.

“She is identical to her mother,” Marcelo Greco said with a smile. “I hope you like Italy. Andrea liked Rome. She was a good friend of my daughter, Beatriz.”

I nodded robotically, and my brother, who was sitting at the end of the table, frowned at the paralyzed look on my face.

“Luca, take your sister dancing,” my father said, and my brother immediately walked over to where I was and took me by the arm. “We have some private matters to settle that—”

“I make you a final offer, Lorenzo,” Alessandro said suddenly. He rose from the table gracefully and walked toward us firmly. “We will establish peace and have absolute collaboration for a very reasonable price.”

My father smiled in satisfaction.

“I think it would be good to talk it over in private and—”

“I want to marry your daughter,” Alessandro said, interrupting my father.

The champagne cup I was holding slipped from my fingers like butter and crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

I shook my head and couldn't help but look at Alessio in horror.

The predatory smile on his face chilled my blood to the core.