Page 1 of Tormented Diamonds
Chapter One
BECCA
Montclair, New Jersey
Istare at myself in the mirror, and my stomach lurches. In less than an hour, I’ll become Becca Marchesi—a mafia don’s wife.
What have I done?
I close my eyes. The answer is everything. I’ve given everything I am for revenge. While saving my father’s life and securing my own was a driving factor in accepting Gianni’s proposal, it wasn’t what made me sell my soul. That came with the chance to look my mother’s killer in the eye and even the score.
Andthat’swhat has had me tucked away in this bedroom all day. I’m not hiding from Gianni. I’m not even hiding from my obligation. I’m hiding fromme… from the person I’ve become. There are two Beccas at war inside me, and one has the clear advantage.
There’s a click at the door, and I jump as it swings open.A thousand warning bells ring all at once as flashbacks of Henry cause me to stagger back. I squint across the room, trying to force my blurry eyesight into submission when I see Anton peer through the opening and clear his throat.
“Hi, Becca.” He gives me an awkward smile that’s infuriatingly endearing. His obvious discomfort throws me off balance. Where’s the insufferable hard ass from last night? The one who literally dragged me out of the estate, kicking and screaming.
“What do you want?” My gaze narrows as he steps inside, and I take another step back. “Who are you, really?”
Two questions I fully expect not to be answered. However, I’m more than a little knocked off guard when that steel mask shifts, and he invades the space I put between us.
“Anton Altieri, underboss of the Marchesi family.” He lets a hesitant pause fall before adding, “The one who sent word to Providence that Gianni was being set up by his father again.”
His admission hits like a sledgehammer to the chest. I glance from him to the door, a confusing rush of hope and panic flooding my veins. “Is he…?”
“Here?” He shakes his head. “No, but he sent me, along with this…” He gestures to the garment bag draped over his arm.
I twist away to hide the tears in my eyes. I don’t know why I’m upset. Why would he come? It’s not like I gave him any reason to after storming up the stairs like a child.
Anton approaches and hovers his hand uncertainly over my back before lowering it by his side. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
He doesn’t answer. I don’t blame him. I’m bruised, beaten, and battered. I’m as “okay” as I am free. But it’s not his fault, and I’m a bitch for taking my morality crisis out on him.
I drop my chin with a heavy exhale. “I’m sorry.I’m just … not myself.”
“Don’t apologize.”
There’s another weighted pause, and I look up to find him holding the garment bag out in front of him like it’s a threaded bomb. “No, thanks.”
He chuckles. “Gianni said you were stubborn.”
“Did he also tell you I’m a hypocrite who sold my future for a chance at doing the very thing I condemn him for?”
“No. He said you were one of the smartest women he’d ever met and a survivor who’d been through hell and came back stronger than any man ever could. Is he wrong?”
I meet his stare. “No.”
“Then prove it.” He gives the bag a shake. “Survivors don’t self-sabotage.”
As much as I hate to admit it … he’s right. I can throw out all the insults I want, but it won’t change the fact that I agreed to this. Gianni may have presented it as a forced marriage, but we both know better. That whole production downstairs wasn’t to make me submissive to his demands. It was to make me an accomplice.
I take the offered bag, only getting it halfway unzipped when my hand stills.
Oh, God. It’s beautiful.
It’s not just a wedding dress. It’sthewedding dress, sultry and romantic with a beaded illusion corset that cinches at the waist. I don’t have to look to know the rest is sleek, form-fitting, and understated. Only one person knows me this well.
