Page 1 of Vow of Desire

Chapter One

Luciana

My life has been served to me on a silver spoon. Literally.

I take a bite of the caviar on a silver spoon that costs hundreds of dollars. Even though I hate caviar, it’s still a sign of wealth. And wealth is something I have always known.

I force down the caviar with a smile on my face as I sit at the table covered with a cloth decorated in fine lace at the luncheon function I always attend. It’s a monthly meeting of women.

Mafia women.

Mafia wives and daughters. As a mafia daughter, this is like my second home.

“You look so beautiful today, Luciana,” Alexandra murmurs, smiling – though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you. So do you.” It’s a lie. Alexandra looks like she put her face through too many plastic surgeries. Her lips are too filtered and her head is too unmoving. Her nose is no longer her nose. She’s in her fifties, so I get it. Aging is hard for women in our world. Men expect us to be perfect. I know my father has always expected me to be perfect.

“Well, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Shopping. I need new shoes,” I respond, taking another bite of caviar. It’s disgusting but it’s the most expensive thing on the menu. I was always taught to buy the most expensive thing on the menu even if it wasn’t what I wanted.

Alexandra flutters her hand. Her dark red nails draw attention. “Of course. One always needs new shoes. I hate wearing the same pair twice.”

“I agree.” It’s such a shame too because I have multiple pairs of shoes I would love to wear again and again but I force myself not to. I can’t be seen wearing last season’s fashion. Florence is a huge city. I need to make my mark on it and I can’t do that by wearing old clothes.

“Has your father mentioned anything to you about marriage?” It’s an innocent question but the way Alexandra gives me a hungry look over her teacup tells me otherwise.

I can feel my spine straightening. Tensing. “No. He has not.”

“Such a shame. A pretty, young woman like you should get married soon. I’m sure there are tons of eligible mafia men waiting in line for your hand. Unless… there aren’t any? Are you undesirable, Luciana?”

I flush but keep my smile on my face. Never crack. That’s what I was taught. “My father is going to find the right match for me. It’s an honor to be married. I will marry whoever he tells me.”

“Even if that man is a brute? Even if that man hurts you?”

I’ve heard many stories from other mafia women about the men they married. Abusive men. It’s a terrifying thought. If I’mbeing honest, I don’t want to be married if my husband will be horrible. But that decision is not up to me. Arranged marriages are common in the mafia. My father will choose someone for me – someone of high rank I am sure – and I will be expected to marry that man. And I will have to do it with a smile on my face even if it’s killing me inside.

“My father would never marry me to a man who would hurt me,” I say. I believe it in my gut. My father has always wanted what’s best for me.

Alexandra’s smile is full of pity. “It’s sweet you believe that. I also believed that but then when I was your age, my father married me off to a mafia man thirty years older than me. He just recently died.”

“I know. Condolences.” It’s completely fake. Alexandra is clearly happy her husband is dead.

“Yes. Well… the point is, fathers don’t always look out for their daughters. Remember that. You are a beautiful young woman, Luciana. I would hate to see your light snuffed out.”

“I am only nineteen. I have years before I need to be married. I am sure my father will find me the perfect match in that time.”

She pats my hand and it takes everything inside of me to not pull it away. “Of course. Of course. Enjoy your caviar. I must be getting home. I have more of my husband’s things I need to attend to. With him being gone and all.”

“Yes. Sorry for your loss.” It’s autopilot. Both of us going through the motions.

Alexandra smiles but her face barely moves. “Yes. Remember to enjoy your youth, Luciana.” She walks away after that, leaving me alone at the luncheon table. The room is filled with other mafia women. Hosted in the tearoom of one of the best hotels in the city.

And yet, in this moment, I feel completely and utterly alone in a place I once considered a second home.

My driver, Tom, brings me back to my house. Well, my father’s house since I still live with him. I am not allowed to have a job or date or have any sort of independence of my own. My father treats me like a princess so it doesn’t bother me that my gilded cage is still a cage.

“Thank you, Tom,” I murmur before getting out of the car. My white high heels clack on the ground, drawing the attention of the guard out front. “Hello, Nico.”