Chapter 1

Introduction

Two nights before the investiture, my fiancee Selina threw a celebration at the estate.

She personally pinned a silver family crest on every core member. When it was my turn, she slid the tray right past me.

Underboss Luca laughed as he tore the old crest off my chest and nailed a Notice of Expulsion to the wall of honor.

"A whore who used women to climb his way to the negotiating table thinks he belongs at the Bellini family's table?"

He pressed a button on the remote, and the screen filled with photographs of me meeting a representative from the port family, the manager of the underground bank, and an attorney. All three were women.

Everyone laughed. Only I knew that those meetings, stripped of their timecodes, had bought the Bellini family three shipping lanes, two truce agreements, and the mafia throne she was about to claim.

I looked up at Selina in her deep red gown.

"You're sure you want to throw me out of the family two days before the investiture?"

Forty-eight hours to the investiture. Silver crests covered the long table at the Bellini estate, and Luca Ferraro pinned them onto every core member himself.

When he reached me, the tray slid past without stopping.

I took it for his usual provocation. For five years, Luca had refused to accept an outsider with no family name behind him in the mediator's chair. But two guards came up behind me, and one of them caught hold of the old crest on my chest and wrenched the pin off. The metal tore through my shirt and dropped into a wineglass.

The room went quiet.

At the head of the table stood Selina Bellini in a deep red gown. The Commission had not yet recognized the investiture ring on her right ring finger, but she was already wearing it. Tonight was supposed to be our celebration. In two more days, she would become the first woman formally recognized by the Atlantic Commission as Donna of the Bellini family, and after the investiture, we would make our five-year engagement public.

At least that was what I had always believed.

"What is this?" I asked.

Selina did not look at the crest sinking in the wine. "Before the investiture I have to clean the stains out of this family."

Luca pressed the remote, and an old film projector on the wall whirred to life. The first photograph appeared on the white screen: me talking to the port family's representative at a window table. The second showed the underground bank manager handing me documents. The third showed me holding an umbrella over an older attorney outside a hotel.

Real places, real people, real meetings. Only the timestamps at the beginning and end of each clip had been cropped out.

"Three shipping lanes, two truce agreements, one bridge credit line." Luca leaned against the table edge like he was tallying up my crimes. "We all used to think Mr. Vale was good at negotiating. Turns out he's just good at pleasing women."

A few low laughs went around the table. Someone called me the bedroom courier. Someone else asked how big a commission the Bellini family paid to keep a man who climbed into beds for them.

I ignored them and looked at Selina. "Every one of those agreements has formal minutes and your signature on them. You know what I negotiated."

"I know the results," she said, finally lifting her eyes. "And they came too easily. So easily that I was willing to look the other way."

She pushed a sheet of paper at me. Notice of Expulsion from the Family. It was dated three days ago, the same day I closed the last port truce.

"You had this ready a long time ago," I said.

"I gave you a chance to leave with dignity."

"Letting me finish one last agreement and then nailing me to the wall, that's your idea of dignity?"

Selina held the corner of the paper down. "Adrian, this investiture is not going to be ruined by a whore."

Luca advanced the film one last frame.

The iron door of the lakeside safe house came up on the screen. In the shot, a dark-haired woman had her arm around my waist and most of my weight was on her shoulder. She held my face to check that I was still conscious, then took me inside.

I recognized the black onyx ring on her hand.

That was my sister, Isabella.

Three weeks earlier, someone had tampered with my drink at a dock reception. As my mind blurred, I accidentally dialed the emergency number I had kept for five years without ever using. Isabella came from New York and took me to the Moretti safe house. When I woke the next day, I asked her to stay out of my life in Chicago. She swore at me for half an hour but respected my decision in the end.

What I had not expected was that someone had been waiting outside that night.

"She's my sister," I said.

Luca laughed. "How many women do you introduce that way?"

I kept my eyes on Selina. "Pull the original door logs. Or hand me an encrypted line and I'll have her tell you herself."

Five years together should have been enough for her to know I never joked about family. She also knew that I had never once hidden where I went after a negotiation. One verification was all it would take. The cropped timestamps, entry credentials, and that ring would all speak for themselves.

Instead Selina picked up the expulsion notice and handed it to a guard.

"Nail it up."

The guard nailed the paper to the center of the family's wall of honor. Each blow of the hammer made the ballroom a little quieter.

Then I understood. The photographs had not enraged her. She had been rehearsing this trial for three weeks, waiting only for me to turn over the last of my value.

Luca froze the image on the frame where Isabella was holding my face.

Selina asked, "If she's your sister, have her come here and claim you as her brother."