Chapter 2

I didn't want any more trouble.

I turned silently toward the spa's side entrance, just wanting to get the hell out of there.

"Wait." Marco's voice cut through the rain. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I didn't turn around.

Dante's protective streak was terrifying. If he found out they'd kept me standing in the rain, screaming insults at me—by morning, this entire block would be a crime scene.

"Elena." Claire grabbed my arm. "You think you can just walk away?"

I looked down at her hand gripping my sleeve.

"We have nothing to talk about," I said coldly.

"Oh no no no, we have plenty to talk about. See, a very important guest is coming to this spa tonight. A real lady. Marco and I are here to meet her."

"I want you to stand here and watch. Watch how people like us interact with actual high society. Today you're going to witness what a real class divide looks like."

The smugness in her voice made me sick.

"Tonight's guest," Claire continued, "is the Donna from Sicily. From the Vancetti family."

She looked at Marco with exaggerated adoration. "Honey, you have to get a good look at the Donna's membership card. I heard Dante gave her the platinum VIP card. You know what that represents—power, lineage, true aristocracy."

Her gaze turned back to me, cold and mocking.

I couldn't help but smile—they had no idea who they were talking to.

Marco's voice turned sickeningly sweet. "Don't worry, baby. Didn't I get you that gold membership card last month? It might not be platinum, but it still gets you priority seating."

"You're the best to me, honey," Claire said, then turned her mocking gaze on me. "Did you hear that, Elena? That's what a real man does. They take care of their women, get them into the right circles."

"Not like some people," her voice dropped but grew sharper, "who stay poor their whole lives, probably never even stepped foot in an upscale spa, standing in the rain like a drowned dog."

Marco crossed his arms, looking at me like I was a circus act.

"What are you even doing here anyway?" Claire's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you actually have an appointment. This place costs more per hour than you probably make in a month."

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the card.

Midnight black. No branding except a small embossed 'V' in the corner that only showed when the light hit it right.

Platinum VIP. Lifetime membership. Only five existed in the entire world.

Claire's eyes locked onto the card.

"What the fuck is that?" She lunged forward and snatched it from my hand before I could react.

She held it up to the light, squinting at it.

Then she started laughing.

"Oh my God. Oh my GOD, this is priceless." She bent over, actually slapping her knee. "Elena, you're carrying around a fake VIP card?"

Marco leaned in to look, then he started laughing too.

He grabbed the card, flipping it over.

Then his face went white.

Engraved on the back, in small elegant script: D. Vancetti

"You stole this," Marco hissed. "You fucking stole this card from—"

"I didn't steal anything."

"Bullshit!" He held the card up like evidence. "You expect us to believe that Dante Vancetti—the most powerful man in San Valero—gave this to you? To some nobody who—"

"Holy shit, are you serious?" Before I could react, Claire pulled out her phone and took a picture.

"This is so pathetic," Marco wheezed. "What, you thought if you carried some fake card, you could magically become somebody important?"

"That card," I said calmly, "was a gift from my husband."

The laughter stopped.

"Your what?" Claire's smile froze.

"My husband. Dante."

Marco's face darkened. "Dante? You mean—"

"You mean Dante Vancetti?" Claire's voice went up an octave. "The Boss? The fucking—"

"Elena," Marco cut in, his tone turning nasty, "you lying bitch—"

He grabbed my jaw, forcing my head up.

The pressure made my jaw ache.

"Elena," he hissed, each word deliberate, "you've really done it now."

He leaned in close, his hot breath on my face.

"You have no right to carry his name."