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He despised me but claimed me anyway.

Gabriel Moretti is a monster.

A man who bought me from auction.

I’m supposed to care for my new husband.

But how can I when he hates my father for what he did to him?

Now I’m trapped in a marriage filled with deceit.

My mind is filled with loathing.

While my body yearns for his touch,

I’m not sure what the outcome will be.

All I know…

Gabriel has me ensnared.

And I’m not sure I’ll make it out alive.

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Sneak Peek - Chapter One

Eva

I’m fully invested in the book I’m reading—a modern-day fairytale about a woman trapped in a beast’s dungeon—when I hear my youngest sister running down the hall, giggling.

Sienna probably getting into trouble as usual.

She enjoys using her status as the baby of the family to get whatever she wants from our father since he always indulges her.

I glance up from my book to see Sienna run past the library door, where I’m sitting, with her long hair flowing behind her.

The library—a room filled with dark, sturdy bookcases and all the books one could ever ask for—is my favorite room in our house.

It’s the only place where I ever truly feel at peace.

Returning to my book, I drown out the world around me.

Witches, goblins, and utter fantasy captivate me until I hear footsteps entering the room.

I don’t need to look up to know who it is when the person sighs and slumps into a seat next to me.

My sister Greta is just a year behind me and the second oldest in our family.

“What do you want?” I ask, keeping my eyes glued to the page in front of me.

Greta huffs. From the corner of my eye, I see her tilt her head back over the edge of the cozy chair she settled into. “I’m bored.”

“You’re always bored,” I remind her, flipping a page.

“Yes, but that’s because father won’t let me outside.”

I glance up and out the window. It’s pouring rain, droplets hitting the glass. “Probably because it’s raining.”

“So what?” Greta asks, pushing her light brown hair over the back of the chair.

My hair is a few shades darker, closer to black.

In some lighting, Greta’s hair almost looks like a dairy blonde.

She always complains about how much she hates her hair and wishes she had my hair color.

Honestly, I can’t blame her. I love my dark hair and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“So what?” I repeat, setting my book down. Knowing Greta, she wants to talk, which means no more reading for me. “Greta, it’s a downpour out there.”

Greta shrugs. “I’m not a helpless flower. I won’t wilt or drown or anything. I just want some fresh air.”

Greta is always the most tomboy out of the four of us.

Whereas I like to read, Imelda—the third oldest—likes to make her own clothes, and Sienna just likes to watch TV.

Greta loves going outside and experiencing things our father disapproves of.

Greta’s favorite hobby, though, is horseback riding.

Father is terrified she’ll get hurt, but Greta insists, and at nineteen years old, she’s become seriously good.

But there’s no way he’d let her go riding in the rain. Even he has his limits.

Even though Greta and I are over eighteen, we have to remain home until we’re married.

It’s just the way our family is. It probably has to do with the fact that our family is part of a long line of Italian mobsters.

Mafia ways have always limited women. And our family is no exception.

And that includes our father dictating what we can do with our time.

“No,” I say, “You just want to ride Emilia.”

Greta lifts and finger and points it at me. “True. But who cares? Can’t I do what I want?”

“You know that’s not true.”

Greta folds her arms across her chest. “This is so unfair.”

“What’s unfair?” a young voice asks. I look over and see Sienna standing in the doorway. Her hair, as dark as mine, is tousled from running around the house.

“Nothing,” I reply.

“Don’t you have any shows to watch?” Greta asks.

Sienna flops down next to Greta. “There’s nothing good on at the moment.”

“Not even on Netflix?” Greta asks. “There’s always something on!”

“I’d rather hang out with you,” she says to both of us. “Besides, Dad said I could. So, you two have to do as he says, which means you have to listen to me.”

Greta shoots me a quick look. Sienna has always been the brattiest out of the four of us.

“Ok, Sienna,” I say. “What do you want to do?”

Greta rolls her eyes as Sienna eagerly claps her hands. “I want you to do my makeup.”

I nod. Sienna so desperately wants to fit in with us older girls. I don’t want her to feel left out, even though I know Greta wouldn’t mind. “I’ll go get my kit,” I tell her.

“You’re leaving me alone in here?” Greta asks.

“Hey!” Sienna says. “I’m here.”

Greta pauses. “Exactly.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ll be right back.”

I venture out of the library and into the large foyer of our house.

I should actually call it a mansion, considering its cold white marble flooring and wide steps leading to the second story.

On my way up the staircase, I spot the small crumbling bits of the banister.

It takes away from the grandeur of our home. A mixture of elegance and disrepair.

Once I’m upstairs, I pass by Imelda’s room.

Her door is open, and I can hear her sewing machine whirring.

I poke my head in and knock on her door.

Imelda looks up, her golden blonde locks falling around her shoulders.

At only seventeen, she’s the most strikingly beautiful out of all of us.

She receives the most attention from my father’s men during the holidays.

It always grosses Greta, Imelda, and me out.

Sienna is too young to notice the attention her sister receives.

All the attention has made Imelda grow quieter over the years, more reclusive.

Now, she spends most of her time in her room, making clothes for all of us.

I have a lot of her pieces hanging in my closet.

It always makes me sad how this world is already making her feel self-conscious about her looks.

As women, we shouldn’t be made into objects.

“Whatcha working on?” I ask.

Imelda lifts her foot from the pedal, the whirring sound puttering out. Her room is eerily quiet. Pink and gold fabric is lined up underneath the needle. “A dress I’m making for Sienna. She asked.”

“Of course, she did.”

Sienna is also the most demanding.

“She asked me to do her makeup for her,” I tell Imelda.

Imelda raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Did she now?”

“Of course. You know Sienna.”

“Well, as long as she’s happy, I guess.”

I laugh a little. “Sure. At least it stops her from throwing a tantrum.” I nod at her machine. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Imelda nods and returns to her sewing.

I grab the makeup kit from my room and head back to the library. I can hear Sienna talking to Greta. Well, rambling on and on is more like it.

“Did you know more human twins are being born nowadays than ever before?” Sienna asks Greta. “Just think, you and Eva could have been twins. Imagine that.” My sister loves to pick up random knowledge from all the TV she watches.

“Sure,” Greta drawls out.

I can’t help but find Greta’s annoyance amusing, but I put her out of her misery by walking back into the library. “Twins, huh?” I ask. “Well, Greta and I are technically Irish Twins. We’re exactly a year apart.”

Sienna snaps her fingers. “That’s true. I didn’t even think of that.”

“Uh-huh,” Greta mumbles, sitting up from her chair. “With that in mind, this Irish twin is going to take a bath.”

“I figured you were going to try sneaking out,” I say, winking at her.

Father has guards stationed at every door.

He claims it’s for our protection, but I think he’s just way too overprotective.

As a single father, he can’t keep an eye on all of us, so he hires an abundance of guards.

Our mother passed away in childbirth, having Sienna.

Maybe that’s why our father dotes on her so much. She’s the last piece of his wife.

“When I said bath, it’s really code for sneaking past the guards and riding Emilia.”

“That sounds more like it,” I say.

“Dad will be furious if you do that,” Sienna says. “He won’t like it.”

Greta makes a face at her. “Then don’t tell him.”

“I will tell him,” Sienna snaps back.

“Then Eva won’t do your makeup,” Greta snaps in return.

I place the makeup kit on a table, holding my hands up. “Whoa, don’t bring me into this.” I cross my arms. “But you know, Greta, it probably is dangerous to go riding in this rain.”

Greta slumps a little. “Yeah, I know.”

Sienna shoots Greta a smug expression.

“But I’m not going just because you said you’d tell dad,” Greta says to Sienna. “It was all Eva. She’s the one who talked some sense into me.”

“Damn straight,” I say, sitting down next to Sienna, who pouts. She’s the only person in the world I’ve seen actually do that.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Greta says, waving a hand towards Sienna’s face.

I laugh and pick up the makeup kit, placing it in my lap. “Here, Sienna, let me do your makeup.”

That perks her up in an instant. “Ok, I want pink eyeshadow and pink blush and the reddest lipstick you have.”

Greta shakes her head as she leaves the room. I look back at Sienna. “Whatever you want.”

But just as I reach into the kit to grab the eyeshadow, our father arrives, striding into the library.

“Greta,” he says. “Come back in here.”

Sienna jumps up and runs to hug our father. With a lean build and dark brown hair that he always slicks back with grease, my father looks younger than he is. He’s nearing sixty but doesn’t look a day over forty-five.