365 days to love the devil

Prologue

Sicily, 2020

The meeting was set for midnight on the rooftop of an old villa on the island’s east side. Lothaire Cingretti arrived with his father and three of their men. The other group was already waiting.

They got through the usual greetings, then down to business. Lothaire listened as they talked about shipping routes and percentages. Standard stuff. Then the leader leaned forward.

“There’s a new opportunity. Big money. We need your routes.”

“For what?” Lothaire’s father asked.

“Girls. Young ones. We bring them in from Eastern Europe, North Africa. Sell them, put them to work. You provide the routes, you get thirty percent.”“It’s simple logistics,”

Lothaire looked at his father. “No,” Lothaire said.

The merchandise is excellent, a real bargain, easier than anything you’re running now.

Think about it”

“I said no. We don’t traffic people.”

The man’s expression changed. “That’s unfortunate.”

It happened fast. Someone pulled a gun. His men pulled theirs. Shots fired.

Then his father jerked backward, blood spreading across his chest. Lothaire lunged for him, but something punched through his own chest, white hot pain that dropped him to the concrete. The shot had come from somewhere else. A sniper.

He hit the ground next to his father. Couldn’t breathe. Blood pooling beneath them both. The other group was already running, disappearing into the night. All his men dead.

Lothaire’s vision blurred. He was dying. He knew it.

Then she was there. A woman, kneeling beside him, hands pressing against his chest, dark hair whipping in the wind.He didn’t know where she came from. Her face was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

An Angel

But he woke up.

She’d saved him.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Chapter 1: Are You Lost, Mama

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”

The voices around the table were loud and off-key, exactly how Emily liked it. Marco stood up, raising his glass higher than necessary, that stupid grin on his face that meant he was about to say something ridiculous.

“Let’s drink to the successful surgery of the most beautiful woman in the world”

“My mother!” Marco finished, then burst out laughing. “Just kidding. My lovely girlfriend, Emily.”

“You’re an idiot,” Emily said, but she was smiling.

The beach house was perfect for this. Ten of them crammed around the long table on the deck, the ocean visible.

The cabana was perfect for this. Wooden frame with white curtains tied back at the posts, open on all sides. Ten of them crammed around the long table, the ocean just steps away, string lights strung overhead, and someone had gone overboard with the decorations. Silver balloons. A banner that said “Still Hot at 29.”

“Happy birthday to my girl who will turn twenty-nine in three… two… one… yaaaay!” Marco threw his arms up like he’d just announced New Year’s.

Emily shook her head. “You’re making me feel old.”

“You are old,” her best friend Jenna said from beside her, then kissed her cheek. “But we love you anyway.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Marco tapped his glass with a fork. “Speech! Speech!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Em. Say something.”

She sighed and stood up, holding her wine glass. Everyone quieted down, waiting.

“Okay, fine. Thank you all for coming. Thank you for pretending Marco is funny when he’s clearly not…”

“Hey!”

“And thank you for not mentioning that I’m basically thirty now, which means I’m officially ancient and should probably start planning my funeral…”

“Dark!” someone called out.

“But mostly, thank you for being here. I love you guys. Even Marco, despite his terrible jokes and even worse timing.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to another year of questionable decisions and good company.”

They all drank.

Emily was about to sit down when a waiter approached their table carrying a bottle. She recognized the label immediately. Dom Pérignon. The expensive one. The very expensive one.

“Oh my God, babe.” She turned to Marco. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world.”

Marco looked confused. “What?”

“The champagne. Thank you.”

“I didn’t order that.”

The waiter set the bottle down.

Marco looked at the bottle, then at the waiter. “Really?”

“Must be on the house probably ,” Jenna said. “It’s your birthday, Em. They’re being nice.”

Marco shrugged. “Well, if it’s free, let’s drink it.”

The waiter popped the cork and poured. Emily took a sip. It was smooth, ridiculously good. She could get used to this.

“I need to pee,” she announced, setting her glass down.

“Too much information,” Jenna said.

“I’ll be right back.”

Emily walked inside, the music from the deck fading behind her. The beach house was bigger than it looked from outside. She turned left down a hallway, then stopped. This didn’t look right. She backtracked, and tried another hallway. Still wrong.

“Where the hell is the bathroom?”

She turned a corner and walked straight then sharply turned back, then she stumbled into something.

Not something. Someone.

She stumbled back, looking up. A man stood directly in front of her. Tall. Dark suit, which was weird for a beach house. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched when she’d crashed into him. Just stood there, watching her with dark eyes that didn’t blink.

Emily’s heart kicked in her chest. Something about him felt different. The way he stood. The way he looked at her. Too still. Too focused.

She opened her mouth to say excuse me, or sorry, or literally anything, but the words stuck in her throat.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

“Are you lost, mama?“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​