Chapter 1 Perfect illusion

Sage's POV

The champagne bubbles caught the light from the crystal chandelier, and for a moment, everything felt like a fairy tale.

"To Bradley and Sage!" someone called out, and I lifted my glass with a smile that felt natural for one of the few times in years. The ring on my finger caught the light too, a two carat princess cut, everything I dreamed about when I was a girl playing dress-up in my mother's closet before she died.

"You look stunning tonight," Bradley whispered in my ear, his hand warm on the small of my back. His cologne was expensive and subtle, nothing like the leather and motor oil smell that clung to every man I knew back home. "I can't believe you're mine."

Neither could I, honestly. Six years ago, I was Sage Romano, daughter of the Steel Wolves MC president, sister to the heir apparent. Now I was Sage Romano, fashion buyer for Nordstrom, engaged to Bradley Hamilton, a man whose idea of rebellion was wearing brown shoes with a navy suit.

"The dress is perfect on you," my friend Sarah said, appearing at my elbow with her own glass of Dom Pérignon. "That shade of emerald makes your eyes pop."

I smoothed the silk down over my hips, knowing the dress cost more than most people made in a month, but I'd earned every dollar myself. No club money, no blood money, no dirty bills passed under tables in smoky rooms.

"Thank you. You helped me pick it out, remember?"

Sarah laughed, the sound light and musical. "I have excellent taste in both dresses and best friends."

Bradley's arm tightened around my waist as more guests approached to congratulate us, mostly his parents' friends. Investment bankers, lawyers, trust fund babies who never worried about anything more dangerous than their stock portfolios dropping.

"Tell us about the proposal again," Mrs. Henderson gushed, her diamonds flashing as she gestured with her champagne flute. "It sounded so romantic!"

Bradley's chest puffed out with pride. "I took her to the Rainbow Room and had them play 'At Last' while I got down on one knee right there on the dance floor."

"It was perfect," I added, because it really was. Soft lighting, beautiful music, the kind of proposal every girl dreams about with no danger, no violence, no wondering if the man you love might not come home tonight.

"When's the wedding?" someone else asked.

"June," Bradley answered before I could. "St. Patrick's Cathedral, then the reception at the Plaza."

I nodded along, sipping my champagne and playing the part of the happy bride, and I was happy. This life I built, this man I found, it was everything I wanted when I left Millbrook six years ago with nothing but a suitcase and a promise to myself that I would never look back.

"Have you chosen your dress yet?" Mrs. Hamilton asked, sliding up beside us with the grace of someone born to navigate social gatherings.

"Not yet, but I have some ideas. Something classic, I think. Timeless."

"Oh, I know just the designer," she said, already pulling out her phone. "Vera Wang did my niece's dress last year, and it was absolutely stunning."

Vera Wang. I bit back a laugh, thinking of the wedding dresses in Millbrook that were mostly white sundresses bought off the rack at Target, if the bride bothered with traditional white at all. My mother wore leather pants and a halter top when she married my father, and everyone said she looked beautiful.

"That sounds perfect," I said instead.

Bradley squeezed my hand. "Only the best for my girl."

The warmth in his voice made something twist in my chest because he meant it. He wanted to give me everything, to make up for whatever difficult past he imagined I had. I'd told him my father ran a motorcycle repair shop and that we weren't close, which was technically true. I just left out the parts about the gun running, the territory wars, and the fact that Vincent Romano was one of the most feared men in three counties.

"Sage, darling," Sarah said, touching my arm. "Remember when you first moved to New York? You were so scared of everything."

"I was not scared," I protested, laughing.

"You jumped every time a car backfired, and don't get me started on how you reacted to sirens."

Bradley looked down at me with concern crossing his face. "You never told me that."

I shrugged, aiming for casualness. "New York takes some getting used to when you're from a small town."

"Well, you've certainly blossomed," Mrs. Hamilton said approvingly. "Bradley chose well."

The conversation moved on to wedding venues and flower arrangements, safe topics that required nothing more than smiles and nods. I let the voices wash over me, feeling grateful for the normalcy of it all. These people had no idea that I knew exactly what a body looked like after it got dragged behind a motorcycle, or that I could strip and clean a gun in under two minutes, or that I still woke up some nights with the sound of gunshots echoing in my ears.

That life was behind me now, dead and buried, just like...

My phone buzzed inside my clutch, and I ignored it at first, but it buzzed again and again.

"Excuse me," I murmured, stepping away from the group.

The number on the screen made my blood run cold. Jaxon. My brother never called unless something was wrong.

I stepped out onto the balcony of Bradley's parents' penthouse, and the cold night air hit my bare shoulders like a slap.

"Jax?"

"Sage." His voice sounded wrong, broken in a way I'd never heard before. "You need to come home."

My fingers tightened on the phone. "What's wrong? Is it..."

"Dad's dead."

The champagne glass slipped from my hand and shattered on the marble floor of the balcony.

"What?" The word barely made it past my lips.

"Three bullets to the chest. Someone killed him in the clubhouse parking lot two hours ago." Jaxon's voice cracked on the last word. "Sage, I need you to come home. Now."

"No, that's not... he's not..."

"I'm sending someone to get you at the airport. And Sage?" His voice hardened, becoming the tone I remembered from when he had to make the difficult decisions. "Watch your back. Whoever did this might come after you next."

The line went dead, and I stared at the phone in my hand, watching my reflection in the black screen. The woman looking back at me was all wrong with her perfect makeup, designer dress, diamond ring catching the city lights. She looked like she belonged in this world of champagne and crystal chandeliers.

But the girl underneath, the one who grew up in a world where violence was currency and loyalty was everything, that girl was screaming.

Behind me, I could hear the party continuing with Bradley's laugh, Sarah's giggle, the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation about stocks and vacation homes and charity galas.

My father was dead. Vincent Romano, the man who taught me to ride a motorcycle before I could properly ride a bike, who read me bedtime stories about brave princesses who saved themselves, who held me while I cried after my mother's funeral. He was gone, and I was standing here in a dress worth more than most people's rent, pretending to be someone I never really was.

The balcony door opened behind me.

"Sage? Is everything okay?" Bradley's voice was full of concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I turned to face him, this good man who loved a version of me that was about to disappear forever. "I have to go home."

"Home? To your apartment? But the party..."

"No." I looked down at my engagement ring, the symbol of everything I thought I wanted. "Home home. My father is dead."

Bradley's face dropped. "Oh my God, Sage, I'm so sorry. What happened?"

What happened was that three bullets to the chest in a parking lot was the kind of death that followed men like my father, the kind of death I ran from six years ago.

"I need to leave. Tonight."

"Of course, I'll come with you and help you with arrangements..."

"No." The word came out sharper than I meant it. "I need to do this alone."

Bradley reached for my hand. "Sage, you don't have to go through this by yourself. Let me be there for you."

I pulled away because something in his touch felt wrong now. Everything felt wrong. The party, the ring, the life I built on lies and half truths.

"I'll call you when I get there."

I walked back through the party without saying goodbye to anyone, grabbed my coat from the hall closet, and called a cab from my phone. Bradley followed me to the door.

"Sage, please. Talk to me."

"My father was murdered tonight. I need to go home to my family. To my real family."

"I am your family now, or I will be once we're married."

I smiled a weak smile and then walked out the front door. I looked at my reflection in the window of the cab. The perfect hair, the designer dress, the carefully constructed mask I wore for six years. It was time to take it off.

The fairy tale was over and the Steel Wolves' princess was going home.