Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

01 | Nina

Someone spilled their wine, and it looks like blood. 

I step over the crimson splatter, my heel wobbling as it wedges into a crack in the sidewalk. It's winter in Las Vegas but the air is deceivingly warm, and I don't blame some of the guests for loitering outside. This is just another stuffy fundraiser for another worthy cause—world hunger, I believe—for which all the proceedings fall into some rich guy's pocket.

'Some rich guy' being the man who calls himself my father. I know the drill by now.

Thank God my car hasn't left yet; it's still idling at the curb where all the guests of importance are supposed to make their entrance.

And I sure do look important. I'm wearing a designer dress, my makeup has been touched up to perfection, and the jewelry around my neck alone adds up to the price of a new car. None of it is mine. None of this is me.

I tug at the diamonds as I duck back into my limo. It all feels fake. I'm not anyone important, but you'd certainly be fooled by all the stares and whispers that followed me the second I stepped inside those doors.

Of course, this is Luciano Genovese's idea of a funny joke. Ever since the gem of the Genovese family, Luciano's precious daughter, disappeared soon after she turned five—and with the mysterious death of her mother occurring around the same time—people in the underground crime world have been asking questions. What's wrong with her? Why does Luciano lock her away? And what did Angelina Genovese do?

There's nothing wrong with me—not like anyone thinks, anyway. What's wrong with me has everything to do with the day I watched my mother die, and the subsequent years of isolation, pain, and torture that followed.

What did my mother do? She had an affair. And she paid for it with her life.

The sins of my mother have been following me in close pursuit my entire life, nipping at my heels like a feral wolf before drawing back just enough so I can keep running, trying to escape it. She paid with her life, and I continue to pay for those sins at the hands of the man who killed her. The cruelest man in Vegas.

Luciano wanted me to make an appearance tonight, so I am. He wanted me to wear diamonds and red, so I am. Over the years, he's paraded me through an event here or there before locking me away again, sending me back to live with my aunt and uncle. I think he likes making me look pretty in public. So perfect and put together. It's so different from the way he makes me feel in private. He likes the game of it all, the dichotomy of who I am and who he allows me to be.

I'm a woman divided. Sometimes, I feel some deep yearning in a part of me that's unreachable, like the real me is trying to escape. But then I'm reminded that I have no idea what she looks like, and I'm stuck half ghost, half doll.

This has been my entire life—hiding, remaining tucked away wherever Luciano wants me. Far enough so that he doesn't have to look at me and be reminded of what my mother did, but close enough that he can still make my life a living hell. It's all I've ever known, and I've been hanging onto my sanity by a thread for God knows how long.

A hand grips my upper arm, yanking me out of the car. I stumble into a hard chest and cold, brown eyes.

"The fuck you think you're doing?"

"Fuck off, Carlo," I keep my voice low so as not to attract attention, trying to escape his hold. He tightens his grip, eyes flaring at my language.

"If you know what's good for you, Nina, you'll put on a pretty smile and follow me back inside. People are watching. This is your first time out in a while, remember?" His smile is colder than snow, eyes like icicles. "You wouldn't want to make a bad impression."