Chapter 1
December settled over Westhaven in Ashford. The Silvercrest River that cut through the city had frozen solid beneath relentless snowfall.
I pushed my beat-up hot dog cart along the edge of Liberty Square, my fingers numb and red from the cold.
I kept calculating how much I could make before calling it a night, considering my little brother was locked in a basement somewhere across town.
Loan sharks already had their hands around his throat.
I had 72 hours to come up with 2 million dollars. If I failed, they'd cut off one of his fingers and mail it to me.
By the time I stuffed another sausage into a stale bun, darkness had swallowed the streets.
I packed up my cart and took my usual shortcut home through the quiet alley.
Three black armored SUVs suddenly screeched to a halt, blocking both ends of the alley. Blinding headlights flooded my vision.
The doors swung open. Four massive men in black suits and leather gloves stepped out, faces cold as stone.
My stomach dropped. I snatched up the tomato knife from my cart and spun around to run.
Just then, something slammed into the back of my neck.
Everything went black. The last thing I remembered was being shoved into a car that reeked of expensive cigars.
When I came to, I was lying on a thick Persian rug.
Ignoring the pounding in my head, I forced myself upright.
An ancient manor stretched before me, elegant, silent, and unsettling.
The fireplace crackled softly. A woman sat in a high-backed chair, studying me with calm, calculating eyes.
She was Carmela Vitale, the woman every mob family in Ashford knew by name.
The Iron Widow.
Carmela lifted her teacup, then casually tossed a stack of documents onto the floor in front of me.
"Chloe Hayes, 21 years old. College student. Makes a living selling cheap hot dogs on the street. Your younger brother developed a gambling habit and borrowed 2 million dollars from the Lucas family. They're planning to take his left hand tomorrow night."
Every word squeezed the air from my lungs. My entire life was sitting in this woman's hands.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. "What... do you want from me?"
The Mafia didn't believe in charity. If they'd gone to the trouble of bringing me here alive, it meant they still had a use for me.
Carmela looked me over from head to toe. Apparently, she liked what she saw.
She made a small gesture. The secretary behind her stepped forward and handed me a contract along with a certified cashier's check.
Carmela's gaze remained ice-cold. "I screened over 100 women. So far, you're the only one I find suitable. There's 10 million dollars as an advance. Sign the confidentiality agreement, and your brother's debt disappears tonight. If you complete the job, you'll receive another 40 million. 50 million dollars total."
I stared at the check in disbelief.
50 million?
I could sell hot dogs for ten lifetimes and never earn a fraction of that.
Fear and temptation tangled together inside me.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
"Heal my son, Nero Vitale."
The moment she spoke his name, her expression darkened.
Everyone had heard stories about Nero, cold-blooded and paranoid.
No woman had ever managed to stay by his side, and the problem was already beginning to tear the family apart.
A mob boss without an heir was a king waiting to lose his throne.
Carmela looked straight into my eyes. "I don't care if you seduce him, drug him, or cling to him until he can't shake you off. Get close to him. Make him lower his guard. Then get into his bed and give him an heir.
"If he beats you to death, consider the 10 million your compensation. But if you succeed, you'll receive 50 million, and then you'll disappear for good."
Either way, I was putting my life on the line.
I snatched up the pen without another moment's hesitation.
"I'll do it."
For a million dollars, I'd kiss a sewer rat.
For 50 million, I was willing to take my chances, even if the man turned out to be a monster.
*****
Two hours later, Carmela's staff stripped off my grease-stained clothes.
They made me shower, then squeezed me into a skintight black dress with a plunging neckline.
I stared at my reflection.
The fabric clung to every curve, leaving little to the imagination. My generous cleavage was impossible to miss.
Against the black silk, my pale skin looked even more striking. They painted my lips a vivid crimson and darkened my eyes until their violet color seemed almost hypnotic.
Normally, I hid beneath oversized hoodies and barely spared my reflection a glance.
Now I looked exactly like the kind of gorgeous gold digger who could destroy a man's life.
For the finishing touch, they sprayed half a bottle of pheromone perfume over my neck and collarbones.
Then a driver took me to a private club in Westhaven.
Nero's underground casino.
The heavy steel doors swung open.
Music pounded through the room, and the metallic tang of blood hung in the air.
The casino was alive with shouting gamblers, rattling chips, and bursts of drunken laughter.
At the center of it all, a man lounged on a leather sofa.
Everything about him warned people to stay away.
Nero Vitale.
The top three buttons of his black shirt were undone, revealing dark tattoos that climbed his pale throat and disappeared beneath the fabric.
His features looked carved from stone, and his icy blue eyes made his already striking face dangerously compelling.
A cigar rested between his fingers. He tapped away the ash with effortless, unhurried ease.
At his feet knelt a man with blood covering his face.
Nero barely looked at him.
Even that brief glance carried enough authority to make everyone nearby lower their heads.
At last, he spoke, "I hate it when people touch what's mine."
He raised a finger.
Bang!
The gunshot tore through the casino.
The kneeling man's right leg burst open in a spray of blood.
Scarlet droplets splattered across Nero's polished leather shoes.
He frowned, more irritated by the stain than the screaming man at his feet.
Just then, chaos erupted at another table.
Two gamblers who had lost everything began trading punches.
Several bodyguards instinctively rushed over to break up the fight.
Now was the time. This was my only chance.
I drew in a deep breath.
50 million dollars.
Forcing a sweet smile onto my face, I balanced on my heels and slipped through the opening.
Then I ran straight toward Nero.
At the last second, I deliberately caught one heel against the other.
Every detail had been calculated.
I pitched forward, aiming directly for his arms.
The entire casino fell silent.
Except I never reached him.
Half a yard away, two pistols pressed against my forehead.
Nero hadn't moved an inch.
His glacial gaze traveled slowly over my face before dropping to the swell of my chest.
The moment he caught the scent of my perfume, naked disgust flashed across his features.
Nero calmly drew out a handkerchief and covered his nose.
Then he spoke, his voice colder than the winter outside.
"Where did this piece of trash come from?"
He gave his men a dismissive glance.
"Take her outside. Cut her into pieces and dump whatever's left in the river."
