: Chapter 3

I’ve been staring at the door Enzo stormed out of for no less than five minutes, trying to work out the weird-ass breakfast we just shared. Despite being contractually engaged months ago, this was officially the longest conversation we’ve ever had, which is so fucking weird in itself.

Declaration of consent?

I’ll cease to exist?

What the hell does that even mean?

Obviously, he’s just trying to rile me up and assert dominance as if I didn’t already know I’m the meat tossed into the lion’s den, but that doesn’t explain why he would overlook my leaving him at the altar, so to speak.

Is it some sort of pride thing, he agreed so he’ll keep his word regardless? I agreed so he’ll force me to keep mine on principle? Is he on the brink of a turf war and in need of what my father can offer? Did he finally realize my sister was spoken for and the trade-up wasn’t a possibility?

Fuck, I need to find a way to call her, see what hell was unleashed after I ran, and how I ended up right back in this giant, desolate mansion.

At the thought of speaking to Rocklin, an excited energy rolls through me, but I don’t show it as I follow an elderly man in a light gray uniform toward the foyer. It’s pathetic, really, but also not. This will be my first time out of the house in a week, and even though I don’t know where this driver is taking me, my chances of being able to speak to my sister are at least higher than they are while locked in this fortress.

Plus, I’m bored and I can’t possibly dance any more than I already have without causing a major issue for my back, so yeah, I’m thrilled to see the sun today.

I used to spend my free time rehearsing or composing, outside of my mandated training sessions on Greyson grounds. Only when my body was spent with exhaustion and my back completely at odds with me did I stop, soaking in the luxury of lavender and chamomile with a book and a glass of wine.

My sister used to tease me, saying I was two people in one, a princess with an old soul, but she was wrong. I don’t live multiple personas, picking and choosing between the two. I’m simply multi-faceted, and in our world, that’s not exactly a good thing.

As the daughters of the Don, the leader of the criminal underground district of the north we were born into, we were expected to be many things, but it all led to the same thing: perfection.

For my twin, it was even more than that.

Of the two of us, Rocklin was chosen to represent the union between the power families as the daughter of the northern district—alongside three others, the heiresses to the south, west, and of course the east—whom has yet to show her face to the world. The heiresses of the founding families, known as the girls of Greyson.

I was the leftover heir, the lesser of Rayo Revenaw’s kin.

I was as perfect as they painted me—hair never out of place, makeup forever fresh—but that was only the surface.

My sister embodies what a mafia princess is meant to be, according to my father.

She’s fierce, bold, and beautiful every minute of the day.

I’m…different.

I’m not weak and I’m not ugly. I’m aware of that—she and I share a face, after all—but I don’t shoot for sport and haven’t memorized every law book in existence. Where Rocklin is the picture of poise in situations that call for it, I am not.

She can smile in shitty circumstances, planning all the ways she’ll take you down in her head, where I’m more along the lines of take you down with a bottle to your head.

Which is why she was coveted, and I was the pain in the ass.

The daughter who didn’t listen, would rather dance in pointe shoes and read fiction than rule the world one scheme at a time. The rogue Revenaw I’ve heard people call me, all because I made no point of hiding my displeasure for the rules a daughter in this world is supposed to follow.

We’re the kids of murderers, drug runners, and more, for fuck’s sake. No shit we’re terrible at following the rules.

My invitation into Greyson Elite Academy, the accredited school for the blood of bad men, royalty, and upscale gang members my sister helps lead, was meant to whip me into shape, but so much good that did.

Where do you think I found the guy that helped me track down the man who wanted to kill my father and take his place? Son of the go-to family for PI work? Of course he goes to Greyson Elite.

It’s funny, though, being around the spawns of the most notorious criminals in our world, you see firsthand the difference in expectations we all had—or have – held over our heads.

My dad wanted his daughters to be strong leaders, perfect on the outside and even more so on the inside—soldiers in sapphires and satin—where other power families trained only the men. The females were raised to be submissive, to never meet the eye of a man and bend to their every will. To be soft, sweet, and basically a virginal weakling doomed to be traded for opportunities she grants a man.

I had issues, and my father knew it just as I knew my sister was the future for our family, so it made sense he didn’t breathe down my neck like he did her. That meant I had to figure out which version of a mafia princess to be and that was difficult when I hated both options.

I’m a terrible listener and I do things out of spite.

They think I’ll try to steal the show—I steal it or I don’t show up at all.

They think I’ll give little effort—I give zero or I upstage everyone.

It’s easy to be what people expect and the fun part is everyone expects something different, so maybe I’m the lazy brat they assumed me to be, and then in the next second, I’m collapsing with overexertion. It makes for an interesting shit-talking session at the galas, others taking bets in what the other twin will or won’t do since no one can say for sure which role I’ll play when the moment arises.

If my mother were alive, she would have helped me find my way, but she isn’t so I found what makes me feel less like a piece on a chess board—you can’t back a girl into a corner if you’re unsure whether she’ll cower or claw her way out.

I knew with my mother dead, the promise my dad made to never force us to marry had died too, so with my sister taking over the family name, that meant I would be treated like the other heiresses to powerful men. I’d be given to whomever offered my father the most incentive.

There was no way Father would go to his enemy, the only man who had the power to burn my family’s empire to the ground; he was way too proud for that.

So I went to him myself, thinking it was the smartest move I could ever make.

If my sister got the power of the name we were born into, I would find one just as supreme.

It was a fool’s way of thinking, but I’ve been called worse.

Looking down the long drive, I watch as a sleek silver car comes into view, curving along the giant paved path, and again, my heart beats a little faster.

Finally, a tiny hint of freedom. I don’t even care where he’s sending me, but at least it’s not in a cell with four blank walls and no room to dance in, let alone zero means to play music to dance to.

My lips curve up the smallest bit as the car slides between the giant beams, pulling to a stop a few feet from the glass door I stand behind. I watch as a gorgeous woman with long dark hair and bright red lips steps out, her skirt tight across her thick thighs and heels so high her feet are damn near pointed.

My eyes fall to the black flats at my feet, and I wince as I curl my toes within them.

Clearing my throat, I stand tall, waiting for the elderly man to open the door so I can step out and join this woman for whatever the hell Enzo planned for me…but as I stare at her, she faces forward, her smile spreading, her tongue flicking out to run along her upper lip.

I scoff, swallowing it, and I swear the man at my side bounces with silent laughter. My eyes slide his way, to find him smiling ahead, and mine breaks free.

Tired of waiting, I go to pull the door open, but my hand freezes on the giant, swirling handle when the red-lipped woman opens her arms as if in greeting.

The person she reaches for appears a moment later.

Enzo.

He steps from the small conclave, having exited through a door I can’t see from here, and he doesn’t stop until he’s right before her.

She says something that makes him smile, and it’s an unexpected punch to the gut. The man will hardly look at me. He ignored me for months before I left, locked me in a room since the day I was dragged back, and here he is. Smiling and chatting freely with the gorgeous woman that is closer to his age than I am.

His hand slides along her lower back and he stares into her eyes as he responds to whatever she said.

She winks, climbs back into the car, and a hollowness I don’t understand blooms behind my ribs as Enzo slides in beside her.

“Come, dear.” My head whips around to find the woman from this morning behind me.

Once again, her face is blank, giving nothing away. I frown but when she only turns on her heel, heading down the hall, I sigh.

With one last glance, I look out the glass doors, but this time, the car is gone. A million questions run through my mind, the ones screaming the loudest being who the fuck is she and where the fuck did they go? but I give nothing away as I face the old woman once more.

I hold my head high as I follow behind, knowing without a word I’m being taken back to my room. I step inside without turning back, and even when the door closes behind me, a lock clicking softly after, I keep my spine straight.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m sitting in the plush chair in front of the north side window overlooking the front of the property, and I don’t move.

Sleep evades me.

And Enzo doesn’t return.