He Chose My Best Friend. I Chose His Uncle.

Before Nico Rinaldi reached into the velvet bridal box, I had already slipped my name out of it.

Our families had promised us to each other when we were children. He was the expected heir to the Rinaldi crime family; I was Serena Valenti, the daughter whose marriage would secure their alliance with mine. For years, everyone had treated our wedding as an unshakeable certainty. Until the night before the ceremony, so had I.

Then I'd found Nico with Livia Hart in the family's underground chapel.

Livia had been my best friend since school. I'd gone looking for the two people I trusted most, only to hear their muffled moans echoing behind the chapel door. I had stayed long enough to understand that my fiancé was sleeping with my friend. Then I'd left without letting them see me.

This morning, I wanted my name out of their hands.

The Rinaldis called the draw sacred: their prospective leader selected a bride's name before the family and accepted the result as God's will. It was their own custom, staged in the same chapel where their Dons swore their oaths. No one seemed troubled that, after a lifetime of promises, I was expected to submit to a lottery.

I folded my slip into my purse and took a seat.

When the guests had settled, Nico reached into the box. He drew a folded paper and handed it to one of his men without so much as a glance in my direction.

A woman in the row behind mine leaned toward her companion.

"It'll be Serena, of course. They've been engaged since they were children."

I kept my eyes on the paper.

"Serena, come here." Nico's mother, Gianna Rinaldi, held out her hand.

Guests smiled as I passed. Someone offered congratulations. I walked to the front of the chapel and stopped near the altar — the exact spot where Nico and Livia had been writhing together just hours earlier.

"Mrs. Rinaldi."

Gianna took my hand. "Don't be so distant. You can stop calling me that now. We're family."

"Maybe we should hear the name first."

Her smile faltered.

Nico's man unfolded the slip. "The woman chosen by God is Livia Hart."

For a few seconds, the silence in the hall was so absolute I could hear someone turning a page in the back row.

"Who is Livia Hart?" Gianna gasped, her eyes darting in disbelief. "Serena's friend? What is the meaning of this?"

Livia rose. Nico stepped down to meet her and drew her against his side.

"My bride, Mom. The one God chose."

Gianna released my hand. She looked from Livia to her son, then toward the waiting guests.

"A draw isn't something we should let determine the entire future of this family. Perhaps we should reconsider—"

"But this ceremony is sacred, Mrs. Rinaldi," I interrupted.

Nico looked at me then.

"You heard the result.” I told Gianna. “ If you overturn it now just because you don't like the name, aren't you making a mockery of your own traditions? People might call it a sacrilege."

Gianna lowered her voice. "Serena, you know I've always wanted you as my daughter-in-law."

"Mom, stop." Nico tightened his arm around Livia. "I've always thought of Serena as a sister. I never promised to marry her."

I had expected him to choose Livia. I hadn't expected him to stand there and tell everyone I'd invented us.

He met my eyes without a shred of embarrassment.

"I know you've had feelings for me since we were kids. But I never felt that way. You misunderstood."

On my eighteenth birthday, he'd led me into the garden, away from the music and our parents. He'd knelt on the grass and held both my hands.

"Once I'm in charge, Serena, I'll give you the wedding you deserve."

He hadn't been a child playing at marriage then. Neither had I.

My fingers curled against my palm. If I told that story now, he'd deny it too, and I'd be standing in front of both families begging a man to admit he'd wanted me.

I made myself look at Livia. She was wearing the small, worried smile she used when she wanted me to make something easier for her.

Not this.

"Then I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," I told Nico, forcing a polite smile..

He relaxed. He thought that was my surrender.

Instead, I turned toward the guests and raised my chin.

"In truth, my family secured another alliance weeks ago. My wedding will proceed in seven days."