ien

my sight, but the scent of her-something clean and cold, lik

lenched. Caesar hated strangers. He was trained to tear out the throat of anyone who approached me without permissi

ully on the velvet sofa, her perfect, statuesque features betraying nothing but polite observ

rrected, her voice taking on that iron-clad tone she usually reserved for the Commission. "She just handed us the Marino family's throat on a silver platter. A debt of blood

ply rested my hand on Caesar's sleek head. Sensing my rising lethal inte

less skirt. "I should check on the gala preparations. Excuse me, Eleonore. Damien." She slipped out

ternal warmth for the ruthless pragmatism of a Falcone daughter. "She is

ign is solidified by blood and fear, not by chaining myself to

aved m

over her. "I will drown her father in gold. I will elevate her family's status. But I wil

arrogant," Eleonore count

a crown. You're signing her death warrant. I'll have to send a funeral wreath

off. Anger was a useless weapon against Eleonore

a Matriarch," I commanded, pacing toward the floor-to-c

er anger faltering.

a dress without a single designer label. It was well-tailored, but old." I turned to face my mother, watching the realization dawn in her eyes. "Her

silence wa

r eyes... she didn't look at this room with awe. She looked at the exits. She looked at me like she was calculating ho

hard paranoia of our world. Eleonore stared at the rosa

she picked up the telephone

owns, a selection of diamonds, and an envelope with thirty thousand dollars in untraceable cash. Have a Soldier deliver it directly to t

eating the girl who held the Moretti Matriarch's favor, they were abou

York, a dark anticipation coiling in my chest. L