Chapter 1

The Moretti name controlled half the waterfront, three unions, a chain of clubs, and enough men with sworn loyalty to make police patrols slow down at the edge of its territory. Inside that world, Dominic Moretti's word carried the force of law.

Dominic Moretti's first love, Bianca Falcone, had thrown herself from a rooftop in a fit of despair.

In a fit of rage, Dominic dragged his eight-months-pregnant wife, Adriana, to an abandoned amusement park on the dead edge of Moretti territory and strapped her into the seat of the old water tower ride. His men stood by, made men with faces carved from stone, saying nothing as they bound her wrists and ankles to the cold metal.

"If you hadn't provoked Bianca, would she have broken and jumped?"

Terrified of heights, Adriana clutched at the restraints, her swollen belly making it hard to breathe. She cradled her ruined right hand against it out of old habit, fingers curling to hide the scar. Tears streamed down her face as she forced out an apology she did not owe him, her voice cracking as she begged, "Dominic, please... let me go. I promised. I swore on the blood. I'd never appear in front of Bianca again."

But her husband only looked at her with chilling indifference. Two fingers rested against his signet ring, and they did not move.

"Adriana, for the sake of the child, I won't cast you out." His voice was calm, almost gentle, but it only made the next words colder.

"But the pain you've caused Bianca, I want you to pay it back a hundred. No. A thousand times over."

Dominic gave the order to set the ride running without stop for an hour, then turned and walked away without a backward glance. The made men parted for him without being told. Men who had taken the oath did not make a Don ask twice.

The machinery groaned to life, the seat jerking beneath her as the tower rose higher and higher into the dark. She fought against the restraints, screaming until her throat felt raw. Every time the ride plunged, her stomach flipped, the terror so intense she thought she might lose consciousness.

Then, on one brutal drop, pain ripped through her body, sharp, hot and unstoppable. A rush of fluid gushed between her legs, soaking her dress and the seat beneath her.

The next day, Dominic finally remembered that she was still out there.

"Adriana, Bianca is fine now," he said, his voice devoid of concern. "As long as you kneel and beg her pardon, I'll let you down."

What he didn't know, what none of them knew, was that the platform had already been drenched in blood for hours. Her baby had been torn from her body somewhere between the sky and the earth, reduced to nothing but mangled flesh and silence.

——

"Dr. Greco reached me this morning. That woman is skipping her checkups. What game is she playing to pull my eyes back to her now?"

Dominic frowned, a trace of disgust flashing through his dark eyes as he swirled the wine he had not touched.

Beside him, Enzo, the old consigliere who had kept the Moretti books, secrets, favors, and blood debts since Dominic's father wore the ring, turned pale. He pressed a folded handkerchief flat against his palm and smoothed it once before he spoke, his voice trembling. "Don Moretti, Donna Adriana still hasn't been brought down. And she's terribly afraid of heights. She won't set foot on the second-floor balcony. Now that she's so far along, could... could something have gone wrong?"

Dominic's expression froze for a split second before he frowned again, doubt flickering across his face. "Really. Adriana's afraid of heights?"

Before Enzo could finish confirming it, Dominic waved a dismissive hand. "It's a rusted carnival ride inside my own territory, not an enemy rooftop. Let her be scared. Maybe fear will teach her what rank, blood, and omertà apparently could not—and she'll stop reaching for Bianca."

Enzo lowered his head and did not dare say another word.

The soldier assigned to the Don's person, however, could not hold his tongue any longer. "Don Moretti, at first the Donna was screaming. But then she went completely silent. And she carries your child. Your own blood. Shouldn't you at least send someone to look?"

Dominic's expression shifted slightly, the brief flicker of realization swallowed at once by scorn.

"I knew it. Even the fear of heights was theater. If she were truly that terrified, how does a woman go quiet all on her own? Adriana is as false as ever. Since she wants to put on a show, let her stay up there till morning. Tomorrow I'll bring her to kneel before Bianca and beg pardon. Only then is this debt settled."

With that he waved his hand, cutting off any further word, and crossed the floor toward the bedroom. No made man in the room moved to stop him. Under a Don's roof, an objection to an order could be heard as an objection to his authority, and every soldier there knew how quickly that kind of mistake became a blood debt.

On his bed, Bianca lay half-bare beneath the soft sheets, her delicate shoulders exposed to the dim light. Dominic's gaze darkened as he approached, his throat working with want. Without a word, he leaned down and captured her lips in a deep kiss.

Bianca whimpered softly, her fingers pressing weakly against his chest before she opened her eyes. "Dominic... we're in your room. If Adriana finds out, she'll be hurt."

Her voice trembled just enough to sound pitiful. Her tears came a half-second too fast, and her eyes flicked sideways to catch his face before the crying fully landed. "And what I did before... Dominic, I only did it because I love you too much. I thought if I were gone, Adriana would stop fighting you over me. I never wanted you to punish her for my sake. Should I go to her and beg her pardon myself?"

She bit her lip, looking heartbreakingly torn.

Sure enough, at the sight of her like this, Dominic's want and his fury braided together. His large hands moved to roughly knead her soft chest, his breath growing heavier as he flipped her beneath him with ease.

"Bianca, you're too soft-hearted. If it weren't for you, I'd have died back then. Even your fear of heights came from pulling me out of it. And to think Adriana told a woman as gentle as you to go throw herself off a roof. It makes my chest ache."

His grip tightened, possessive, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "If she ever does it again, even carrying my child, she pays for it with her life."