Page 1 of The Rhino’s Rose: Fate’s Falls (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Sicily

Eleven years before Chapter One

Hovering in the dark hallway outside my father’s study, I hold my breath and listen. Normally, I would be asleep in my bedroom at this hour, but my stomach didn’t approve of all the desserts I ate earlier, or the extra glass of wine my father let me have since it was “a big birthday.”

Every living member of the Falsone family attended the party, plus some of the made men who work for my father, and even a couple dons of other families. My father’s toast called it a celebration of my debut into womanhood .

Embarrassingly, he knew the biological accuracy of that statement because he’d been made aware that I got my first period a couple of weeks ago. Keeping anything secret from him is impossible. As one of Sicily’s most-feared mafia dons, no one in his employ would dare get on his bad side. The consequences could be deadly.

I’ve grown up knowing that everything I do—or don’t do—is reported to my father. By my nannies, tutors, the household staff, the handful of cousins who are the closest thing I have to friends. Don’t ask me why I expected the details of my bodily functions to be any different. I guess because I didn’t think my father would care to know that I got my first period. We’ve never been close. I honestly can’t remember the last time he hugged me.

Isabella, my nanny since forever, the closest thing I have to a mother figure, says my father holds himself apart from me to protect me.

Since I literally never leave our heavily guarded compound, I’m safe from physical danger. As for protecting me from the harsh truths of being a mafia family, why do that when I’ll need to learn all about the inner workings so I can take over one day? My mother died when I was just two years old, and I’m an only child. If my father had plans to remarry and make babies until he has a son, he would have started long ago.

Now that I’m officially a woman in his eyes, maybe I should tell him I’m ready to step into the role of heir. The worst he can say is no, right? When I heard his voice from down the hall, I thought this might be as good a time as any to make the suggestion. Until I heard the second male voice, Nicolo Nicchi’s unmistakable rasp.

“Not until she turns sixteen. That was the deal.” The metallic ting of a flip lighter opening punctuates my father’s evenly spoken words, followed by the familiar inhalation and exhalation sounds of his cigar habit.

“Yes, Angelo, that was the deal,” Nicolo, one of the other family dons in attendance earlier, answers. “But you wouldn’t have invited me to her party and presented her as a woman if you didn’t intend to give her to me sooner.”

Give me to him?

“She’s thirteen years old, Nicolo. She’s not even a full month into womanhood.”

Oh my god. It’s not bad enough that my father knows my brand-new menstrual cycle, he’s sharing that information with the head of one of the other families? That’s just?—

“I assume that means she is untouched?” Nicolo has the audacity to ask.

Again, I hold my breath, this time waiting for the crack of my father’s fist on Nicolo’s jaw.

It never comes. Only my father’s cool, calm voice. “Not so much as a kiss. I ensure she never has opportunity for any intimate contact with others, just as we agreed.”

Just as they agreed? What the hell?

“Good, good. I want her pure in every way when I take her. ”

“When she’s sixteen , Nicolo. I gave my word, here in this room, and I will keep it—three years from now.”

“Surely you aren’t attempting to intimidate me , the person who handed you Giuseppe Morello’s head on a platter, quite literally, so that you could take control of his territory. That offering was personal, Angelo. I crafted it with my own hands.”

I cup my hand over my mouth as the contents of my stomach lurch upward. My father promised me to Nicolo in exchange for expanding the Falsone family’s territory? I had just turned ten when that happened. I remember Nicolo coming to the house with a present I thought was a birthday gift for me, but he took it into my father’s study instead, and I never saw it again. Now I know what was in the box. And I understand the weird comment Nicolo made when he walked past me on his way out of the house.

“I will see you in six years, little girl.”

Only now, Nicolo wants to shorten the timeline.

“I am amending the terms of our deal, Falsone, and if you say another word in rebuttal, yours may be the next head I deliver. Many have offered greater prizes than yours, but I declined those proposals out of respect for our agreement. I am here, my betrothed is ready, and I’m not leaving without what is mine. Wake her now, before I lose my patience. I’m sure you would rather my mood is one of tolerance when I take my bride-to-be to her new home.”

My father won’t let it happen. Promising me to a creepy old man is bad enough. Letting him have me when I just turned thirteen… he wouldn’t do such a horrific thing. Not to his daughter. We aren’t close, but I’m still his flesh and blood. His only child.

My pulse is pounding so loud in my ears, I barely hear my father’s long, resigned sigh. But his words are crystal clear.

“Help yourself to a brandy and a cigar, Nicolo. I’ll wake Rosa and get her ready to go.”

No. I must have heard him wrong. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

But he did, and his footsteps on the polished marble floor in his study are headed this way.

Quickly backing away from the door, I bump into one of the obscenely large vases my father favors, sending it crashing to the floor in the dark. Lights come on as everyone—my father, Nicolo, and any staff within earshot of this part of the house—all become immediately aware of my lurking presence.

“Rosa!” my father calls out as I turn and run as fast as possible in my shin-length nightgown. When I don’t stop, his tone turns to thunder. “Come back here this instant!”

“I’m not going with him!” I scream as I take the first set of stairs toward my third-story bedroom.

Loud male voices drift up the wide, marble staircases, but they’re not directed at me. Father and Nicolo speak to each other in heated conversation. Hope flickers inside me when I hear my father command Nicolo to wait, only to have that hope die seconds later when it becomes clear he means “wait in the study” and not “wait until she turns sixteen.”

My pulse skyrockets at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs below. Sparing a glance back is a mistake that costs me more than the split-second it takes. With my head turned, I don’t see Isabella as I round the corner toward my room, the impact taking us both to the ground.

“You have to help me,” I screech while untangling my limbs from hers, then rush into my room.

“Rosa, calm down,” she says, following me into the room.

“Close the door. Hurry, help me shove the dresser in front of it. We can’t let my father in.”

“That dresser is made from black ironwood and weighs more than both of us put together, and I’m not at liberty to lock your father out of any room. Take a breath and tell me why you’re upset. I heard you yelling. Did you have another night terror?”

It’s been years since the last time, and even now, I’d swear to God the creature I used to see outside my window at night was real, not a figment of my subconscious mind. “No,” I say, shaking my head forcefully enough to rattle my brain. “My father made a deal with Nicolo Nicchi—a deal for me . You have to help me get away from here.”

Her patient expression pales, her lips forming a straight line. “I care about you dearly, but you know I can’t help you with this. ”

Of course not. My father would literally kill her on the spot if she helped me escape.

“Then distract him while I sneak out. You can tell him I pushed you and you fell and lost consciousness for a couple of minutes. Or just…make up any story you need to save yourself after I’m gone, but please, please , Isabella, help me get away. He gave me to Nicolo. As a wife! He’s letting Nicolo take me away tonight. Right now.”

“It wasn’t ‘gave,’ Rosa. An arrangement was made. Nicolo swore a blood oath to keep you safe and ensure you want for nothing when you become his wife.”

“I’m not marrying anyone because my father tells me to. Especially Nicolo. Why would he think I would go along with that? Why do you?”

“Because in this matter, there is no choice. Arrangements are an integral part of the business among the families. Your parents were arranged. Their feelings toward each other were irrelevant. They did what was required, as you will now.”

Is that why my father didn’t care that my mother died when I was a toddler, because they were arranged and he didn’t love her? Possibly didn’t even like her? Is it why he never saw me as anything other than an asset to be leveraged for power?

But the worst part, the thing that actually hurts my heart right now, is that Isabella knew about the deal. For the past three years, the nanny who basically raised me has known I was living on borrowed time, that when I turned sixteen, I’d be shipped off to marry a man older than my father. She knew and she’s okay with it.

“I don’t feel well.” Clutching my stomach, I sit on the edge of my bed. “Would you get me a glass of water and a seltzer tablet from the bathroom?”

“Of course,” she says, gently stroking my hair. “Then I will help you get ready for the next chapter of your life. There are things every woman should know before her first time with a man.”

A sex talk in preparation for losing my virginity to a disgusting, fifty-year-old mobster who decapitated a man in exchange for my body. If I didn’t need to get the hell out of here immediately, I might actually vomit.

Groaning and rocking dramatically, I watch Isabella cross the large bedroom. The instant she disappears into the adjoining, oversized bathroom, I bolt for the narrow French doors that lead to my balcony. Throwing them open, I lunge onto the small concrete terrace overlooking the courtyard. There’s no way down. Not that I can walk away from.

“Rosa Angela Maria Falsone.”

I jump at the sound of my full name spoken in anger. A breeze lifts my hair as I turn to face the room, but the shiver that runs its unwelcome fingers up my spine has nothing to do with the night’s cool temperature. “I’m not going with him!” I yell, pointing at Nicolo, where he stands at my father’s side, openly ogling me.

Disgusting creepy man.

My father isn’t much better, bartering me off like a commodity. Like a whore .

“You’ll do as you’re told, Rosa. By me, and when you leave here, by Nicolo. Now, get in this room and pack a bag. I’ll have the staff box up the rest of your things and send them along next week.”

“Fuck you! Both of you! And fuck you too, Isabella,” I scream when she enters my view.

“Insolent little thing. But not for long. I’ll teach her the obedience you clearly have not, Angelo.” Nicolo’s eyes sparkle as he rubs his palms together, taking a step forward.

My father blocks him with an outstretched arm, but Nicolo brushes it away, like an annoying fly from a dinner plate. And my father lets him. He lets this, this, would-be child molester move closer.

“I’m not going with you,” I shriek, edging backward until I bump against the concrete railing.

“No?” Nicolo mocks. “Then where are you going? Does my little bride think she’s a bird that can fly away?”

“I will never be your bride, and I can’t fly, but I can die. And I choose death over a life with you.”

Nicolo scoffs, his eyes opening wide when I yank the hem of my nightgown to my hips, then hoist myself over the railing, where I cling to the other side, my toes barely gripping the narrow concrete ledge. “Enough of this foolish, bratty game. Get in here before you scrape yourself. If there are to be any red marks on you, they’ll be from my hand when I put you over my knee for this unacceptable show of disrespect.”

Inside the room, my father and Isabella watch in silence. Nobody is coming to my rescue. There is truly only one way out of my father’s deal.

“You can spank my cold, dead ass,” I say, then spit on the balcony and let go of the railing.

Screams and hollered words fill the air, along with a thunderous, inhuman roar. My hair whipping upward around my face isn’t enough to block the impossible sight from view.

The creature from my childhood night terrors comes to life in that instant. His gray, stony body breaks free from the side of the house, quadrupling in size right before my eyes. Massive wings wide, he swoops down, catching me before shooting high into the night sky, with me in his thick, humanlike arms. Saving me? Whisking me away for a worse fate than I jumped to escape?

Or maybe I’m lying dead on the flagstone patio, and this is a dream. The last one I’ll ever have. If it is, at least it didn’t end with Nicolo dragging me away and doing disgusting things to me. No matter what the huge, gray, flying creature does, I’d choose this monster from my imagination over that real-life man. Even so, a scream rips loose when the last dots of light on the solid land below us disappear from view, replaced by endless darkness.

“You are safe now, Rosa. No harm will come to you.”

The monster is speaking to me. Addressing me by name.

My shrieking morphs into maniacal laughter. “I really am dead, and you’re an angel.” My next breath comes out as a sharp gasp. “Will my mother be there, wherever we’re going?” Just thinking about seeing her breaks open the dam inside me, the tears flowing as sobs rack my body. “I don’t care that I died if I get to see my mother.”

The monster’s arms pull me closer against his cool, rough skin. “I’m sorry, Rosa, but your mother is not waiting where I’m taking you. She died eleven years ago, and you are still very much alive.”

“How do you know when she died?” The night’s cool wind dries my tears as quickly as they stream from my eyes, causing tracks of tight skin down my cheeks.

“I was there. I have always been there, since long before you were born.”

“By ‘there,’ you mean on the side of the house? That concrete statue outside my room?”

“The specifics of ‘there’ have varied, but my place has always been at your family’s side, and yes, that was my stone form.”

“Riiight. You’re actually the monster I imagined outside my window when I was little, and now you’re magically flying me off to safety somewhere.” More hysterical laughter erupts from inside me. “None of this is real. And it’s way too vivid to be a dream, so…what? I hit the ground and now I’m in a coma or something, and this is all subconscious brain activity?”

“I am not a figment of your imagination or a character from a dream, and you are not comatose. You are alive and awake, high above the Tyrrhenian Sea, on your way to a place where no one will ever find you or harm you or force you to do anything against your wishes. My name is Garion. I am a gargoyle, and I have always been real. Those times you thought you saw me, you were correct. It pained me to remain in stone, listening while you implored your caregivers to believe you, doing nothing to validate your pleas. I am deeply sorry for my part in the loneliness you endured.”

Shifting position in the monster’s arms, I look up and find a pair of intense yellow eyes staring at me. “Whether I’m dead, comatose, or dreaming, this is way beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I should be screaming my head off, but I’m not scared of you. I’m not even afraid you might let go and drop me into the sea. I’ve obviously had a psychotic break.”

“Neither your mind nor eyes are deceiving you, Rosa. You’re not afraid because inside, you know you have nothing to fear from me. I am your family’s sworn protector.”

“But you’re not protecting my father right now. And I assume you’re on his payroll, since everyone at the house is. Everyone does his bidding without question.” Betrayal stabs at my stomach as Isabella’s complicity replays in my mind like a scene from a horror movie that you can’t look away from, no matter how much you try.

“I am not paid by anyone.” For a couple of seconds, Garion’s yellow eyes flicker white, speaking the word paid as if it’s repulsive. “My oath is to the Polizzi family.”

“That’s my mother’s maiden name.”

“I have guarded your family, her family, for many generations.”

“Did she know about you?” My whispered words are barely audible over the steady beating of his wings in the night.

But he hears them. “Yes. But not until it was too late, when I was unable to save her.”

“But you tried?” I ask as fresh tears spill, blurring my view of my rescuer’s stoic expression.

“I did what I could.”

The lump in my throat makes answering impossible, so I nod instead, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. I was only two when it happened, but Isabella told me the basics. My mother had a seizure, fell, hit her head, and died on the same balcony where I jumped.

Of course, Garion couldn’t save her; he’s a gargoyle, not a paramedic. Plus, it happened during the daytime, while he would have been in stone form.

Isabella said my crying brought her running to the nursery—my bedroom—where she found me wailing over my mother’s lifeless body.

Though, maybe that’s not even true. Now that I know Isabella’s loyalty was always to my father, and that my parents’ marriage was just a mafia business arrangement, my mother’s tragic death could be a lie. For all I know, my father had her killed. Or did it himself.

I don’t know what’s real anymore, and the only one who might be able to tell me is a monster straight out of a fairy tale. I have truly lost my mind. “All of this is impossible.”

“And yet, you know it is not. Since a very young age, you have known there is more in the world than can be seen on the surface. You consciously remember the nights you saw movement outside your window, the nights you witnessed me returning to the stone after stretching my wings. But search deeper in your memories, Rosa. Remember the first time you looked into my eyes. The first time I carried you to safety in these arms.”

“What? You mean—no, that’s—that didn’t happen.”

“You were very small. Barely two years old. Perhaps too young to remember,” he says, turning his attention to the dark sky ahead.

Barely two years old.

She died eleven years ago.

I did what I could.

It’s as if a door unlocks inside me. The memories rush through all at once. Flashes of sunlight casting ribbons on my beautiful mother’s smiling face. Melodic singing. Laughter, hers and mine. Joyfulness. Then the sensation of falling. A baby’s fearful wail—my wail. Darkness enveloping me, blocking the sunlight. Cool arms holding me, then gently releasing me. Sorrowful yellow eyes meeting mine before disappearing, seemingly to nowhere.

“She was dancing with me on the balcony. You were there.”

Garion’s yellow gaze meets mine again. “You remember.”

“Just bits and pieces, but enough,” I whisper around a gulping sob. “I remember her face. Her voice. I don’t want to forget again.”

“You won’t.” Cupping my head in one large, claw-tipped hand, he tucks my cheek against his chest. “Rest now, child. We have a long journey ahead. Plenty of time to talk about the world as you will soon know it.”

“Thank you for saving me…twice.” Fatigue like I’ve never experienced rushes in, pulling my eyelids closed. Whatever dreams might come, I know the monster will protect me.