CHAPTER ONE
ROSALIA
-PLEASE SEE CW/TW AT FRONT OF BOOK-
Peregrine Calo was the most beautiful man I’d ever met.
He had the face of a god, the kind I’d only ever seen on models. Even his hair had that casually tousled look that never seemed to get messed up no matter what he did. His chiseled jaw was covered with a short beard and he had a fine, straight bridge nose. His cheekbones could cut glass and he had thick, dark lashes and permanently lowered brows. The eyes that smoldered beneath them were a rich gold, like sunlight shining through dark amber.
I’d spent my entire life being ignored by him and I couldn’t care less because he meant nothing to me. He was friends with my brother and three stepbrothers so I was aware of him growing up, but he was fourteen years older and we moved in different circles. I grew to adulthood without having spoken so much as a sentence to him.
He was a golden boy, the kind who floated through life while everything was handed to him on a silver platter. Everyone loved him, they adored his face, they adored his charisma. He’d been an adorable child, fawned on by everyone, and he’d grown into a beautiful adult. Even a childhood accident that left a thick, scarred line from his jaw to his hairline did nothing to diminish his beauty.
I loitered in the doorway, staring him down with a cold gaze. He was talking with my stepfather in the hallway, ignoring my presence. They were discussing me—I knew because I’d heard him show up at the door. I’d heard my stepfather’s surprised greeting when he’d let Peregrine step into our hallway.
“I’m here about your daughter, Rosalia,” he’d said. “Lucien said he spoke with you.”
“Yes, I just didn’t expect you so soon,” my stepfather said.
“Is she here?”
He turned and his gaze swept over the hall and his eyes locked on mine for a second. A shiver moved down my spine. I knew he had ugly parts, I’d seen flashes of them over the years. When my parents were out of town and my brothers were using the house to throw a party, I’d watched him let his facade drop. I would never forget that night; the sight of him unbound was burned into the back of my lids.
He’d just defended his final thesis for his second degree and he was celebrating. I’d walked into the middle of a party in our kitchen that night. There were cups littering the table and Peregrine was shirtless, glistening with sweat. He held a beer in his hand and as I stopped in the doorway, he paused and his eyes locked with mine.
Pure heat rippled through me as his eyes glittered gold through the moving bodies and the pounding music. There was an expression of hazy disinterest on his face and it made me want to hate him for no reason at all. Just because he was a bright flame that drew people like moths and I was a shadow slipping along the wall.
He lifted the bottle, braced it on the counter’s edge, and hit it with his palm. Popping the cap off. He turned away and I stood, rooted to the ground. For a second, I had seen whatever he was underneath all those nice suits and formal education.
And it sent a chill down my spine.
His education was another thing I hated about him. He had numerous degrees from two different Ivy League schools and they were all in subjects I had no interest in. Political science, international relations, foreign policy, and to top it off, a law degree. It didn’t feel like school at that point, it felt like bragging.
Like he was taunting the world.
Do your worst. I can take it.
I’m Peregrine fucking Calo.
He was one of those people everyone knew everything about and no one knew anything at all. He was the oldest of five boys, the heir to both his grandparent’s and father’s sizable fortune. That was the main reason he was in my house, asking my father to marry me. He needed a bride to unlock the first half of his inheritance from the trust fund his grandmother had placed it in.
Why he couldn’t just go get a woman the normal way, I had no idea. He was so charming and handsome that obviously he had women. But he was discreet about it. He showed up to parties on his own and he always left alone. It made me wonder if he paid women to sleep with him to relieve that itch. Maybe that was the easiest, cleanest way of getting the sex made men seemed to crave with abandon.
Or maybe he didn’t have to work for it at all. Maybe he just opened his door and there were women lining up for him. With a face like that, they probably fell into his bed.
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in a rigid knot. My stepfather led the way down the hall. He unlocked his office and Peregrine leaned in to say something and they both laughed. Then they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.
Neither of them turned to look back at me.
Of course they didn’t. I was the invisible child. When my mother had married my stepfather, my twin brother had integrated seamlessly into the Antonucci family and got along well with Federico, Marcus, and Tony Antonucci. I had remained ignored and awkward on the sidelines. I wasn’t sure why it was, but I was clearly the least favorite child.
I threw myself into my music and let that be my consolation. And it wasn’t as if I was abused. I was just casually forgotten in the dark corners of my family’s enormous, old house. I’d assumed that was how it would always be, that I wouldn’t get married because I doubted my stepfather had put together a dowry for me. Or that he would put any effort into helping me find a husband.
But he must have, because here Peregrine was at my house in a closed door conversation with my stepfather.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the hall. I was pretty, I knew that, but I wasn’t doing myself any favors with the giant sweatshirt that covered my figure. It looked absurd beside the blue suit and the crisp white shirt Peregrine had arrived in. He always dressed like he was about to attend a luncheon with the president.
Maybe that made sense. He was the diplomat for the Italian-American mafia and he met with politicians and business moguls daily. The boss, Lucien, had played his cards well when he appointed Peregrine to that post. If his smooth words didn’t seduce his targets, surely his perfect face would. The rest of the outfit made a joke of it to the point of calling him Pretty Boy Calo.