CHAPTER ONE: SERENA
I’ll never forget the night I almost lost my life.
The night it was almost literally stolen out from under me.
But a nameless, faceless hero saved me.
A man I’ve never seen.
A man I’ve never spoken to.
But I know he exists.
It’s because of him I started this foundation.
It’s because of him that I’m alive to see it flourish.
And it’s because of him that I’ve been able to help so many other innocent victims who weren’t lucky enough to escape.
I always wonder where he is and what drove him to me that night.
I’ll always be grateful to him, whoever he is. I actually believe he was part angel, hovering over my shoulder after I’d been captured, there to make sure I found my way out of that hellish darkness.
I hope one day I can meet him and tell him how grateful I am that he found his way to me that night.
My eyes scout the sea of smiling faces around the ballroom. I have a perfect view of the guests from my position next to the bar.
Could one of them be his face?
Would I know it if my gaze tangled with his?
Would I feel a tinge of a connection?
My gaze continues its sweep over the room until a tightness in my chest makes me gasp.
A pair of dark eyes assaults me from across the room—searching, questioning, accusing. A tightness in my chest makes it hard to pull in a breath under his heavy stare. I force a smile at the bartender and take the champagne flute from his outstretched hand. I raise the crystal flute to my lips and sip the bubbly liquid, trying to shake the feeling of dread that washes over me.
Mama was nervous about me hosting this gala, but I told her it was worth the risk. The work I do for the foundation puts me in the limelight pretty often, and I knew when I established it six months ago that there would always be dangers lurking because of who my family is and what they’ve done.
Allegedly.
My eyes flicker back toward the man standing in a darkened corner clenching a glass in his hand. People seem to flock to him, whoever he is, but he turns them away, refusing to talk, rejecting their efforts to mingle. He ignores everyone.
Except me.
But yet, he hasn’t made a move to approach me. He only watches, tracking my every move through the crowded ballroom of Casale Cardini. And as unsettling as his actions are, I refuse to let him shake me. Not now, when I’m about to make the biggest speech of my life in front of nearly a thousand people with very deep pockets who are about to join me on a quest for hope founded for the young and innocent women of Italy who need it most.
I was almost one of them.
I blink fast and take another quick sip of the champagne. The bubbles tickle the inside of my nose, and I have the sudden urge to sneeze. The bartender grins at me and nods at my half-empty champagne flute. “Looks like you can use a bottle of that instead of just a glass.”
I manage a grin, my fingers clutching the stem of the glass. “You could say that. But I have to give a speech in a little while. I might need it afterward though.”
The bartender holds up the bottle and gives me a wink. “It’s got your name on it. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard as the mystery man moves closer, clearly on his own quest. The feeling of unease weaving its way through my insides amplifies as the distance between us closes.
I take a few steps away from the bar as other guests cross his very determined path. One such person, a man just as tall and just as broad, lays a hand on his arm and guides him out onto the veranda, speaking with a pinched expression on his face.
Jackie Anzelone, my father’s underboss.
And as much as I despise that slimy asshole, a two-faced prick whom my father refuses to eliminate, he just saved me.
I let out a shaky breath.
From what, I don’t know for certain. But I have a damn strong suspicion.
And my neck is permanently cricked from constantly looking over my shoulder.
A strong hand presses against the small of my back, and I jump, a yelp escaping my lips. “Papa!”
“You’re a little on edge, huh?” He smiles at me. “Your mother and I just wanted to wish you luck before you blow all of these people away with your speech.”
I glance around the ballroom draped in shades of blue and bite down on my lower lip. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the sea of faces waiting to hear from the hostess of this event. I couldn’t have predicted this kind of turnout, but I guess when you run a foundation on behalf of the Vitale family, a family who pretty much owns all of central and southern Italy, people take notice.
Of course, they all want to be seen at the premier event of the year.
Actually, if you ask my parents, it’s the event of the decade.
And on this Saturday evening in Naples, Casale Cardini is the place to be.
It’s amazing to see the level of support the foundation has generated since it was founded months ago. And my father’s iron fist doesn’t hurt my crusade.
I’m not naïve. I know people flocked to this event because of the threat of what might happen to them and their livelihoods if they didn’t, but that doesn’t bother me in the least. They showed up, and once I convince them why it’s so important for them to care, they’ll happily throw cash at me.
The only hitch is, I can’t tell them the truth...the real truth behind my quest.
I’m a victim, yes, but I’m one of the lucky ones. Too many suffer the opposite fate.
“Serena,” Mama says, her fingertips grazing my arm. “Look around. You did all of this. These people have come such a distance tonight because you’ve made them believe that everyone deserves a future filled with hopes and dreams and happiness. Your tireless work with the foundation, the hospitals and orphanages you’ve supported, the women whose lives you’ve changed forever...it’s your passion that brought these people together, convinced them that they all have an important part to play in this world, my strong and beautiful girl. You’ve done such an amazing job of making people care, and I couldn’t be prouder of you, cuore mio.”
“Thank you, Mama.” I give my mother a quick hug, breathing in her perfumed scent. I grasp her hand and then grab onto one of Papa’s hands, looking at them with a wide smile on my face. “You’re the most amazing parents. I can’t tell you enough how much I love you and how lucky I am to have you in my life.”
We don’t talk about that night anymore. My parents respect my need to battle the demons that led me on my own personal crusade against sex trafficking, and it remains the huge elephant in every room.
Never to be talked about.
Always there as a reminder of what could have been lost. Namely me.
Papa drops a kiss onto the top of my head. “Good luck with your speech, topolina.” Then he snickers. “Even though in those shoes, you’re the exact opposite of my little mouse.”
I giggle. “Yeah. I’m about two heads taller than Mama right now.”
A man in a tuxedo comes up next to Papa and nods his head in the direction of the podium set up at one corner of the room. “It’s time.”
I force a smile even though my stomach is twisted like a pretzel at the thought of climbing onto the stage to speak to the crowd now filing into the room from all areas of the venue. Papa walks in front of us, his commanding presence and size forcing people to take a few steps back, clearing a path for me and Mama. I smile and nod and shake hands with donors who greet me and offer their congratulations.
Being the daughter of Franco Vitale makes me Italian royalty.
Mafia royalty.
I smooth the front of my gown, a deep-red sheath that hugs my curves just enough to not look borderline pornographic.
Mama’s fingertips dance across my back as she nudges me forward. I look back and grin at the woman who has given up so much to make me into the person I am today. She nods her head toward the stage and I turn, gathering my skirt as I step up to the microphone.
I dip my head the slightest bit since my shoes are much higher than the ones I wore when I did my test run yesterday. I raise my eyes to the expectant faces surrounding me and smile. As I do a quick sweep of the room, my gaze locks on another set of eyes and my heart stills.
Holy hell.
When his full pink lips curl into the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen, a delicious shiver slithers down my back. He has to be around my age, and he’s flanked on all sides by three other guys who look very much like him. One is more delectable than the last.
But the one who is eyeing me right now, the devilish glint in his eye making me tingle in places that have yet to be explored...my, oh my.
The guy is Swoon City, and my God, do I want to take a road trip.
I flash a bright smile at him and his own grin deepens, revealing a dimple in his right cheek.
For a split second, my mind glitches, and I drag my gaze away before I drown in the deep pools of chocolate brown melting me from the inside out.
Bad freaking timing!
I turn my attention to another part of the room, resisting the urge to take a peek at my newfound eye candy.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I start. “Thank you so much for joining me here for such an important event. We’re gathered here tonight to celebrate all of the good that the Rizierio Vitale Foundation has done for women in need over the past year and to look forward to expanding our reach so that we can touch the lives of women across the country and across the world.”
I pause with a smile. “I’m a dreamer. An eternal optimist. I believe that with faith, hard work, and dedication, anything is possible. And with the support so many of you have shown since the foundation was established, we’ve been able to make the dreams of so many others come true.”
I take a deep breath before continuing. “We’re all aware of the dangers faced by so many young orphaned women in our country, women who have nothing—no families, no jobs, no money, no hope. They become targets for organizations that want to exploit them, stripping them of their every last freedom. They lure in these young, impressionable women by promising them better lives. And then they addict them to drugs. They force them into slavery. They sell them to the highest bidders.”
A shudder runs through me as I speak the words. “I’ve seen how these organizations work. I’ve heard firsthand accounts of the atrocities committed against these girls. And it sickens me,” I say, my voice quivering.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing the memories down deep yet again so they can’t consume me. “But that’s why we’re gathered here tonight. To join forces against these trafficking organizations and to save the lives of orphaned girls who feel lost, hopeless, and alone. Because everyone deserves a chance.”
Those dark, sinister eyes seek me out again as I finish my speech. But just before the fear paralyzes me, I brush my fingertips over the fabric of my dress, grazing the outline of the knife strapped to my thigh.
I don’t know who he is.
I don’t know what he wants.
But I do know that I will fight with everything in me to make sure I don’t lose my second chance.
