Chapter One Carmen’s POV

The crystal chandelier above me glittered like a thousand small suns, throwing fractured light across the marbled floor.

The music was elegant. The blend of violins and cellos gave rise to a waltz that didn’t quite reach my heart.

Pretending to belong, I stood near the edge of the ballroom with a glass of red wine in hand, pretending to sip from it.

It was my engagement party.

It wasn't to my first love or the man I was head over heels for. It was to the most feared man in the whole of Italy; Don Alaric Castellanos.

He was the kind of man whose presence could still a room and silence even the most reckless tongues.

Though he wasn't standing next to me or in the hall, I felt cold chills running through my spines as my heart slammed mercilessly against my chest.

Across the hall, my family laughed, drank, and pretended not to notice me. My father’s hand was resting on the back of my mother’s chair.

They looked like they belonged to another world, one that hadn’t been forced into the dark to repay a debt.

A smile spread across my lips the moment I caught sight of Kethan, my son darting between the tables. He was chasing bubbles from a champagne glass someone had spilled.

His laugh was the only real sound in the room for me. He was three years old, full of light, and unaware that his mother was about to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather.

My stomach twisted at the thought.

Everyone was waiting for the Don to appear. The tension in the air was heavy, like the seconds before a storm breaks.

In no time, the polite smiles stretched thin. Even the orchestra seemed to play softer, unsure whether to continue.

A man beside me murmured to his companion, “Maybe he’s testing her loyalty.”

Not minding my presence, the woman across gave a short laugh. “Or maybe he’s already bored of her.”

Their words cut deep, but I didn’t flinch. I had learned long ago that pain was safer when swallowed quietly.

When the clock struck ten pm and he still hadn’t appeared, I couldn’t take it anymore. My pulse had become a steady drum in my throat.

With my heart in my mouth, I groped my way towards the table my family occupied.

“I will go find the Don now," I said to them with a bowed head and racing heart.

“You mean your husband." Isla, my older sister snickered. "You should start calling him sweet names, not Don." She added.

A flicker of pity flashed across my mother's face for a split second before she met my eyes. “Do what you must.” That was all she said.

With a nod, I slipped away from the noise, the music, and the eyes that had refused to leave me.

Once I got into that hallway, I took a deep breath. It was colder and dimly lit by wall sconces.

My heels clicked softly against the marble as I waddled through it, clutching my dress to keep it from brushing the floor.

Halfway down the corridor, a man stepped out from the shadows.

He was tall, broad shouldered and dressed in a black suit with the collar open just enough to reveal the ink curling up his neck.

His hair was dark and messy in a deliberate kind of way. On his lower lips was a glinting silver ring and the tattoos crawling down his forearms where he had rolled up his sleeves gave him the overall look of that typical bad boy.

“Are you lost?” He asked, looking me over like I was some stray cat. His voice was low and rich, with an accent that slid over my skin like silk.

Gripping my gown more firmly with one hand while I tightened my grip on my wine glass with the other, I said quietly, “I’m looking for the Don.”

That instant, his mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Everyone’s looking for the Don.”

“I mean…” I hesitated, unsure why I was explaining myself to him. “He has been gone for a while now.” I muttered and with a shrug, I added, “I thought maybe he stepped out.”

Titling his head, he began to study me with lazy interest. “You’re the fiancée.”

The word sounded like poison on his tongue.

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard.

He took another look at me and let out a low whistle. “You don’t look like the women he usually keeps around.”

Biting my lower lips, I swallowed the sob that had risen in my throat.

I should have run away that night, but I was a coward. Now, look where my cowardice had landed me in.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked, feigning to be calm but he saw through my facade.

With his hands tucked into his pockets, he leaned back against the wall, tapping his fingers against a cigarette he hadn’t lit.

“Last time I saw him, he was making a call down this corridor. I think he is in his study now, the third door on the left.”

Nodding, I muttered, “Thank you.”

He shrugged and said nothing but I could see pity dancing in his eyes.

The sound of my heartbeat followed me as I hurried down the corridor.

The third door on the left loomed ahead, it was made of heavy oak with brass handles. I hesitated for a moment to listen.

There were no voices, no movement, only silence.

Taking a deep breath, I connected my fist with the oak door and knocked. “Don?” I called softly but no response.

“Sir?” My voice was smaller now and uncertain.

After thinking of what to do for a while, I turned the handle and it gave way easily.

The room smelled of books and old wood. The curtains were drawn and the only light coming was from the dying embers in the fireplace.

At first I didn't see him because of the dim light. It was when I was going to return to the hall that I saw him.

He was sitting in his leather chair with head bowed slightly as if he had fallen asleep mid thought. One hand rested on the armrest while the other hung loosely by his side.

Relief fluttered through me for a heartbeat.

“Don?” I called as I stepped closer, my heels making soft thuds against the carpet.

“Everyone’s waiting for you,” I said and once again, he didn't answer.

We weren't exactly equals but the few times we had crossed paths, he had responded when I spoke to him.

What changed? — I pondered as tears welled up in my eyes.

“Sir?” I called, a frown creasing my brow.

Still nothing and that made the air suddenly heavier.

With my heart in my mouth, I set the glass down on the edge of his desk, my fingers trembling.

It was at this moment that the smell hit me; it was iron, sharp and metallic.

Immediately it registered, my stomach dropped.

“Don?” I whispered again, this time reaching out to touch his shoulder.

The moment my fingers brushed his sleeve, my breath caught. The fabric was damp and sticky.

Terrified, I jerked my hand back, staring at the dark stain spreading across my palm.

It was blood, his blood.

My heart began to thunder so violently that I could barely hear. I stumbled backward, falling into the desk.

“No…” I whispered, my voice shaking.

Mustering courage, I forced myself forward again, circling his chair. That was when I saw it fully, the gash at his throat and the deep crimson soaking his shirt. His eyes were half open, glassy and fixed on nothing.

The Don, the man whose name could silence armies, was dead.

My knees nearly gave out beneath me.

“Oh God… oh God.” I cried as the room spun around me.

Pushing both hands upwards, I pressed them to my mouth, choking back a sob. I wanted to scream, but the sound was lodged somewhere in my chest.

Stumbling back again, I caught the corner of the desk. My sleeve brushed against him and his blood smeared on the satin fabric of my dress.

“No… no, this can’t…” I trailed off.

My mind was racing as I tried to make sense of the sight in front of me.

Who would dare kill him? And why tonight of all nights?

The metallic smell filled my lungs, choking me.

My gaze darted back to the Don’s lifeless face. The sight of the unnatural stillness and the blood broke something inside me.

The world tilted.

The glass I had left on the table toppled, shattering on the floor. I watched in fear as red wine bled into the carpet like another wound.

My chest tightened as panic clawed up my throat until there was no room left to breathe.

And when I couldn't hold it in anymore, I let out a loud ear splitting scream.