Which Joan Didion Book Best Captures Her View Of California?

"You could have chosen anyone. Women throw themselves at you, I'm certain of it. Women who would die to be your chosen… your mate. Why take me, someone unwilling?" "I did not choose you," he said, with a shrug. "Alexandros and Nikolaos did." "Then what's stopping you from setting me free? From choosing another?" I challenged. "I don't want another." ***** Becoming the bride of the most desired and dangerous Alpha is no fairytale, but a bloody nightmare. Lyla Gray, a young human woman, is taken from a life of poverty and dumped into a world of wealth and Lycans... sold into an arranged union with a man she neither trusts nor desires. Her marriage to Zephyrus Wrath, the fearsome and filthy-rich Alpha of a dominant Lycan pack, is not born out of love, but forced by his pack’s traditions. He never wanted a mate. But when duty calls, he bends to take a bride. What he doesn’t expect is to want her. Uncontrollably. Madly. Yet even as the desire is evident between them, he refuses to force the bond. He wants Lyla to choose him willingly. But Lyla is no calm, submissive woman. She challenges him at every turn, determined to frustrate him enough to make him back down and send her away. Yet in doing so, she draws dangerous attention to herself. Eyes that see her as ungrateful, as someone who should feel honored to be Zephyr’s 'Chosen'.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I was straddling my Mafia husband, Lucian, kissing him deeply. My fingers fumbled in the pocket of my expensive silk dress, searching for the pregnancy test I'd hidden there. I wanted to save the news of my unexpected pregnancy for the end of the evening. Lucian's right-hand man, Marco, asked with a suggestive smile in Italian: "Don, your new little canary, Sophia. How does she taste?" Lucian's mocking laughter vibrated through my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied, also in Italian: "Like an unripe peach. Fresh and tender." His hand was still caressing my waist, but his gaze was distant. "Just keep this between us. If my Donna finds out, I'm a dead man." His men chuckled knowingly, raising their glasses and swearing their silence. The warmth in my blood turned to ice, inch by inch. The one thing they didn’t know was that my grandmother was from Sicily, so I understood every word. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect smile of a Donna fixed in place, but the hand holding my champagne flute trembled. Instead of making a scene, I opened my phone, found the invitation I had received a few days ago for a private international medical research project, and tapped "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from Lucian's world completely.

I had been married to Alexander for three years. Everyone feared his ruthlessness, but he had always been incredibly gentle with me. But ever since Elena took a bullet for him during a shootout six months ago, everything changed. He always said she got hurt saving him, so I had to be accommodating. At the family’s most prestigious gala, my husband—the Don, Alexander—arrived with his secretary, Elena, on his arm. Pinned to her chest was the ruby brooch that symbolized the position of the Donna of the family. "Elena took a bullet for me. She liked the brooch, so I let her borrow it for a while. Regardless, you are the only donna here. Try to show some class." I didn't argue with him. I just removed my wedding ring and pulled out the divorce papers: "Since she likes it so much, she can have it. Including this seat next to you. I'm giving that up, too." Alexander signed without hesitation, a cold smile on his face. "What kind of manipulative trick are you playing now? You're an orphan, separated from your family, you won't survive three days in Sicily. I'll wait for you to come back begging me." I took out an encrypted satellite phone I hadn't used in three years. Alexander didn't know that I was actually the youngest daughter of the oldest Mafia family in Europe. But my family and Alexander’s had always been enemies. To marry him, I had changed my name and even severed ties with my father and brothers. The call connected. I took a deep breath and whispered, "Papa, I regret it. Send someone to pick me up in two weeks."

The contractions were ripping me in two. My vision was going dark. My husband, Don Vittorio, the man who ruled Chicago, squeezed my hand. His dark eyes burned with love. "Just a little longer, mia cara. You'll meet our baby soon." Sweat poured down my face. I still found the strength to smile for him. Then a nurse walked in. She held a syringe. I thought it was to stop the pain. But Vittorio’s hand fell away. He took a single step back. The needle sank into my arm. I heard Vittorio’s voice. It was cold steel. "Dose her carefully. She holds on until midnight. Not a minute sooner. Not until after Ornella delivers." And then I knew. He thought I married him for the money. He was stopping my labor. All for a sick Falcone family rule: the first son born is the next heir. Pain tore through me. I reached for him. Tears streamed down my face. I begged him to stop. He bit his lip. His voice was pure ice. "My brother is dead. Ornella carries his only heir. You will do as you are told. You and your child will not steal his birthright." The drug hit my veins. The violent squeeze in my belly, like some invisible hand, just… stopped.

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family. One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids. Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing. “Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?” “That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.” Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed. “If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.” “But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.” “Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.” My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand. He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall. He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean. Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows. He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago. He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea. I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

On the day of our graduation trip, my boyfriend, Josiah Holt, and my childhood friend, Meredith Sloan, leave me behind at a highway rest stop. They drive for half an hour before realizing that I am missing. When Josiah calls me, there is no panic in his voice, only impatience. "Calliope, why didn't you get in the car? Stop messing around. We're rushing to catch the sunset. We can't turn back for you. Just take a taxi and catch up with us yourself." Through the phone, Meredith's voice comes through clearly. "She's not a child. You can't expect to take care of her forever, can you?" In the past, I would have apologized with tears in my eyes. Then I would drag my luggage along and do everything I could to catch up with them. But this time, as I stare at the gray-blue sky outside the rest stop, I suddenly no longer want to chase after them. I cancel all the hotels I have booked for the rest of the trip. Then, I change my ticket and head to a seaside town I have always wanted to visit—the one they always dismissed as boring. From this moment on, the world is my oyster. I finally set out on my own journey, no longer trailing after anyone.