Ties of Blood (Book One)

Chapter 1 ~ Gianna

Gianna Rostova

I looked to my right, the cold air blowing through the half-open window of our limo, turning the night outside into a blur of dim city lights.

The lampposts stretched out like a string of glowing beads, disappearing into the distance as we sped down the road.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my nerves, but the weight of the moment pressed on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I turned my head to the left, where my father sat, his face as expressionless as ever.

He seemed carved from stone, with those same sharp features I remembered from my childhood—before everything changed.

He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched and his hands folded tightly in his lap, never betraying any emotion. His eyes, once warm and full of life, had turned into two cold, unfeeling orbs.

It had been like this ever since my mother died from cancer he never even told me about. I found out only when she was already gone, her absence like a gaping wound in our home.

After she passed, he shut down completely. He withdrew into his study, becoming more a ghost than a father.

Birthdays, Christmas nights, even those ordinary moments in between—he missed them all. He was there, physically present, but miles away in every other sense.

I never blamed him for missing her; I missed her too. But being on the receiving end of that emptiness was a different kind of pain. It was as if I had lost them both at once—my mother to death, my father to his grief.

I glanced back out the window, trying to swallow the tight knot of resentment that rose in my throat. Tonight was supposed to be a turning point, a chance to make things different.

Marrying Matteo Moretti, the soon-to-be heir to the Italian mafia, was my father's idea, a way to end a rivalry that had lasted for decades. I never knew what sparked the feud in the first place—maybe a betrayal, or a deal gone wrong.

But I did know that agreeing to this marriage was the only time I had seen my father look directly at me in months. He said it would bring peace, but I wondered if it was more about restoring his own legacy.

Maybe, in some small way, I thought this might be a chance for me too—to earn back my father's attention, to be more than a shadow in his life. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that this sacrifice, marrying a stranger, would make him care again.

"Gianna, chin up." My father's voice cut through the silence of the limo, cold and clipped.

It echoed through the cabin like a command rather than encouragement, pulling me out of my thoughts. It was the first thing he had said to me in a week.

I straightened my back, forcing my chin up, even though my stomach was a bundle of nerves. His gaze flicked towards me, but he said nothing else, returning to his stone-faced silence.

As we approached the estate, my breath hitched. The house came into view, though "house" was a gross understatement.

The mansion loomed over us, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. It was palatial, sprawling, with an intricate iron gate and perfectly manicured hedges leading up to the front door. I had never seen anything like it in my life, and the sight of it only made my unease grow.