Prologue.
"Sophia?" Otello asked. "Who was that?" his fresh green eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun as they ate on the veranda overlooking the sea.
Sophia put her phone on the table face down, shock pulling at her features.
"My brother," she said softly.
"Luca?" Otello said, stunned.
"My father...he's dead," a smile spread across her face and Otello watched her carefully. She thought she was going to break into hysterical laughter. Otello reached over and put his hand over hers. Her eyes darted to it suddenly and she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Cowards die many times before their deaths," he said seriously. She stared at him, her mouth positively watering with the need to kiss him. But they had made an agreement and she clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
"He wants me to come home," Sophia squeaked out, which was unlike her, her voice was usually strong. Otello's eyes weren't surprised, but interested.
"And?" She narrowed her eyes at him, "When do you leave?" He knew her too well. She scoffed and rolled her eyes to look out over the sea. When she'd left New York 5 years ago, she had never even considered returning. But now that the opportunity presented itself, her brother's voice an earnest plea on the other line, she missed it so much.
The old family had been good to her, but she knew she could be of use to her brothers back in New York. And, with her father finally dead, she could finally pursue the life she'd been planning since the Old Family had invested in her training. She was no longer a pawn, or a thing to be discarded or sold off. She was more valuable than just her legendary beauty—Sophia was dangerous. A Made Woman. A trained killer.
She thrilled at the idea of serving a Capo from her family that cared for more than what she looked like.
"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon," she said softly, sure. Otello nodded with understanding. He was always that way.
"And so you must," he said with finality. Sophia watched the sun set as her heart swelled with hope.