APRIL
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The first time I saw a man die, I was eight years old.
My father didn't know I was watching from the crack in his office door, small fingers pressed against the mahogany as Salvatore Belmonte choked on his own blood. My father, Marco De Luca, the most feared man in Milan, simply sipped his espresso, eyes cold as the corpse slumped across his imported rug.
"Clean this up," he told his men, not even looking at the body. "And get April a new tutor. One who understands the definition of loyalty."
I should have cried. I should have screamed.
Instead, I quietly closed the door and walked back to my bedroom, where I buried my face in my pillow and forced myself to breathe until the shaking stopped.
That was the day I realized what it meant to be a De Luca.
Ten years later, I still hadn't learned to scream.
"Stand still April," Giulia whispered, pins between her lips as she adjusted the hem of my blood-red gown. My eighteenth birthday celebration was tonight, though 'celebration' felt like the wrong word for what was essentially my auction.
I stared at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The dress was beautiful, tight bodice, sweetheart neckline, skirts that flowed like wine. My dark curls had been tamed into an elegant chignon, diamonds dripping from my ears and throat. I looked older, sophisticated.
I looked like my mother in the portrait that hung in the main hall. The one my father couldn't bear to look at.
"You're fidgeting again," Giulia scolded gently, her weathered hands smoothing the fabric. At sixty-two, my nanny moved slower these days, but her eyes missed nothing. "Your father will notice."
"Let him," I muttered, but we both knew it was hollow bravado. No one defied Marco De Luca. Not even his only daughter.
especially not his only daughter.
Giulia stood, her knees cracking as she rose. She'd been with me since the day I was born, the day my mother died. In a household full of killers and criminals, Giulia was my constant,the one person who saw me as more than a bargaining chip or a bloodline.
"They're all downstairs," she said quietly, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "Eighteen of the most powerful men in Italy, and half of them looking to claim you."
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "And my father? Has he decided which one gets the prize?"
Giulia's expression tightened. "There are rumors ragazza."
"Tell me."
She hesitated, then relented, as she always did. "Leonardo Russo. They say your father has already promised you to him."
The name hit me like ice water. Everyone knew Leonardo Russo, the orphan from Naples who'd clawed his way from the gutter to become one of the most feared men in Europe. Violent. Ruthless. Almost twice my age and never seen with the same woman twice.
"He can't..." I whispered, though I knew better. In our world, daughters were currency. I'd always known this day would come.
Just not with him. Anyone but him.
Giulia squeezed my shoulders, her touch steadying. "Your father thinks this alliance will strengthen the family. Russo controls the ports, the politicians. He has what your father needs."
"And I'm the payment." My voice was flat.
"Tesoro mio, I wish— "
"Don't." I turned from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer. "Wishing is for children and fools."
Outside my window, dusk painted the gardens where I'd spent my childhood. Guards patrolled the grounds, their silhouettes dark against the dying light. Beyond the walls lay Milan, then Italy, then a world I'd never been allowed to explore.
A world I would never see if I became Leonardo Russo's property tonight.
"Help me!" I whispered suddenly turning to Giulia. "Help me get out of here."
Her eyes widened. "April— "
"Please," I gripped her hands. "You've always protected me. Protect me now."
"What you're asking—" She shook her head, voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Your father would kill me if he found out."
"He'll kill my soul if I stay."
Giulia studied my face, the conflict in her eyes giving way to resolve. She'd always been more mother than servant to me. Now I was asking her to risk her life for my freedom.
I knew it was selfish, but I felt trapped beyond belief then..
"....I ... I have savings.." she said finally. "Not much, but enough to get you started somewhere new. And I have a cousin in Tuscany who might help."
Hope— dangerous, fragile hope— bloomed in my chest.
"T— tonight? Before the party?"
She nodded. "There's a delivery truck coming at six. The driver owes me a favor. But April..." Her fingers tightened around mine. "If you do this, you must disappear completely. New name, new appearance. You must become someone your father could walk past on the street and not recognize."
"I will." I promised. "I'll become invisible."